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OSMANIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

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Author        ^v.A^eAxv  \VvcVvx  o, 

Title 


This  book  should  be  returned  on  or  before  the  date 
last  marked  below. 


BULFINCH'S 


MYTHOLOGY 


BY 

ELINORE  BIAISDELL 


.  Crowell  Compivn 
r 


PUBLISHERS'    PREFACE 


No  new  edition  of  Bulfinch's  classic  work  can  be  con- 
sidered complete  without  some  notice  of  the  American 
scholar  to  whose  wide  erudition  and  painstaking  care 
it  stands  as  a  perpetual  monument.  "The  Age  of  Fable" 
has  come  to  be  ranked  with  older  books  like  "Pilgrim's 
Progress/'  "Gulliver's  Travels,"  "The  Arabian  Nights," 
"Robinson  Crusoe,"  and  five  or  six  other  productions  of 
world-wide  renown  as  a  work  with  which  every  one 
must  claim  some  acquaintance  before  his  education  can 
be  called  really  complete.  Many  readers  of  the  present 
edition  will  probably  recall  coining  in  contact  with  the 
work  as  children,  and,  it  may  be  added,  will  no  dotfbt 
tliscover  from  a  fresh  perusal  the  source  of  numerous 
bits  of  knowledge  that  have  remained  stored  in  their 
minds  since  those  early  years.  Yet  to  the  majority  of 
this  great  circle  of  readers  and  students  the  name  Bul- 
iinch  in  itself  has  no  significance. 

Thomas  Bulfinch  was  a  native  of  Boston,  Mass.,  where 
he  was  born  in  1796.  His  boyhood  was  spent  in  that 
city,  and  he  prepared  for  college  in  the  Boston  schools. 
He  finished  his  scholastic  training  at  Harvard  College, 
and  after  taking  his  degree  was  for  a  period  a  teacher 
in  his  home  city.  For  a  long  time  later  in  life  he  was 
employed  as  an  accountant  in  the  Boston  Merchants' 
Bank.  His  leisure  time  he  used  for  further  pursuit  of 
the  classical  studies  which  he  had  begun  at  Harvard, 
and  his  chief  pleasure  in  life  lay  in  writing  out  the  re- 
sults of  his  reading,  in  simple,  condensed  form  for  young 
or  busy  readers.  The  plan  he  followed  in  this  work,  to 
give  it  the  greatest  possible  usefulness,  is  set  forth  in 
the  Author's  Preface. 

Bulfinch  died  in  1867,  with  the  following  list  of  books 
to  his  credit:  "Hebrew  Lyrical  History,"  1853;  "The 


iv  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE 

Age  of  Fable,"  First  Edition,  1855;  "The  Age  of  Chiv- 
alry," 1858;  "The  Boy  Inventor,"  I860;  "Legends  of 
Charlemagne,  or  Romance  of  the  Middle  Ages,"  1863; 
"Poetry  of  the  Age  of  Fable,"  1863;  "Oregon  and  El- 
dorado, or  Romance  of  the  Rivers,"  1860. 

In  this  complete  edition  of  his  mythological  and  leg- 
endary lore  "The  Age  of  Fable,"  "The  Age  of  Chivalry," 
and  "Legends  of  Charlemagne"  are  included.  Scrupulous 
care  has  been  taken  to  follow  the  original  text  of  Bul- 
finch,  but  attention  should  be  called  to  some  additional 
sections  which  have  been  inserted  to  add  to  the  rounded 
completeness  of  the  work,  and  which  the  publishers  be- 
lieve would  meet  with  the  sanction  of  the  author  him- 
self, as  in  no  way  intruding  upon  his  original  plan  but 
simply  carrying  it  out  in  more  complete  detail.  The 
section  on  Northern  Mythology  has  been  enlarged  by  a 
retelling  of  the  epic  of  the  "Nibelungen  Lied,"  together 
with  a  summary  of  Wagner's  version  of  the  legend  in 
his  series  of  music-dramas.  Under  the  head  of  "Hero 
Myths  of  the  British  Race"  have  been  included  out- 
lines of  the  stories  of  Beowulf,  Cuchulain,  Hereward 
the  Wake,  and  Robin  Hood.  Of  the  verse  extracts 
which  occur  throughout  the  text,  thirty  or  more  have 
been  added  from  literature  which  has  appeared  since 
Bulfinch's  time,  extracts  that  he  would  have  been  likely 
to  quote  had  he  personally  supervised  the  new  edition. 

Finally,  the  index  has  been  thoroughly  overhauled  and, 
indeed,  remade.  All  the  proper  names  in  the  work 
have  been  entered,  with  references  to  the  pages  where 
they  occur,  and  a  concise  explanation  or  definition  of 
each  has  been  given.  Thus  what  was  a  mere  list  of 
names  in  the  original  has  been  enlarged  into  a  small 
classical  and  mythological  dictionary,  which  it  is  hoped 
will  pr:>ve  valuable  for  reference  purposes  not  necessar- 
ily connected  with  "The  Age  of  Fable." 

Acknowledgments  are  due  the  writings  of  Dr.  Oliver 
Huckel  for  information  on  the  point  of  Wagner's  ren- 
dering of  the  Nibelungen  legend,  and  M.  I.  Ebbutt's 
authoritative  volume  on  "Hero  Myths  and  Legends 
of  the  British  Race,"  from  which  much  of  the  informa- 
tion concerning  the  British  heroes  has  been  obtained 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE 


IF  no  other  knowledge  deserves  to  be  called  useful 
but  that  which  helps  to  enlarge  our  possessions  or  to 
raise  our  station  in  society,  then  Mythology  has  no  claim 
to  the  appellation.  But  if  that  which  tends  to  make  us 
happier  and  better  can  be  called  useful,  then  we  claim 
that  epithet  for  our  subject.  For  Mythology  is  the 
handmaid  of  literature;  and  literature  is  one  of  the  best 
allies  of  virtue  and  promoters  of  happiness. 

Without  a  knowledge  of  mythology  much  of  the  ele- 
gant literature  of  our  own  language  cannot  be  under- 
stood and  appreciated.  When  Byron  calls  Rome  "the 
Niobe  of  nations,"  or  says  of  Venice,  "She  looks  a  Sea- 
Cybele  fresh  from  ocean,"  he  calls  up  to  the  mind  of 
one  familiar  with  our  subject,  illustrations  more  vivid 
and  striking  than  the  pencil  could  furnish,  but  which 
are  lost  to  the  reader  ignorant  of  mythology.  Milton 
abounds  in  similar  allusions.  The  short  poem  "Comus" 
contains  more  than  thirty  such,  and  the  ode  "On  the 
Morning  of  the  Nativity"  half  as  many.  Through 
"Paradise  Lost"  they  are  scattered  profusely.  This  is 
one  reason  why  we  often  hear  persons  by  no  means  il- 
literate say  that  they  cannot  enjoy  Milton.  But  were 
these  persons  to  add  to  their  more  solid  acquirements  the 
easy  learning  of  this  little  volume,  much  of  the  poetry 
of  Milton  which  has  appeared  to  them  "harsh  and 
crabbed"  would  be  found  "musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute." 
Our  citations,  taken  from  more  than  twenty-five  poets, 
from  Spenser  to  Longfellow,  will  show  how  general  has 
been  the  practice  of  borrowing  illustrations  from  myth- 
ology. 

The  prose  writers  also  avail  themselves  of  the  same 
source  of  elegant  and  suggestive  illustration.  One  can 
hardly  take  up  a  number  of  the  "Edinburgh"  or  "Quar- 


vi  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

terly  Review"  without  meeting  with  instances.  In  Ma- 
caulay's  article  on  Milton  there  are  twenty  such. 

But  how  is  mythology  to  be  taught  to  one  who  does 
not  learn  it  through  the  medium  of  the  languages  of 
Greece  and  Rome  ?  To  devote  study  to  a  species  of  learn- 
ing which  relates  wholly  to  false  marvels  and  obsolete 
faiths  is  not  to  be  expected  of  the  general  reader  in  a 
practical  age  like  this.  The  time  even  of  the  young  is 
claimed  by  so  many  sciences  of  facts  and  things  that 
little  can  be  spared  for  set  treatises  on  a  science  of  mere 
fancy. 

But  may  not  the  requisite  knowledge  of  the  subject  be 
acquired  by  reading  the  ancient  poets  in  translations? 
We  reply,  the  field  is  too  extensive  for  a  preparatory 
course ;  and  these  very  translations  require  some  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  the  subject  to  make  them  intelli- 
gible. Let  any  one  who  doubts  it  read  the  first  page 
of  the  "yEneid,"  and  see  what  he  can  make  of  "the  hatred 
of  Juno,"  the  "decree  of  the  Parcae,"  the  "judgment  of 
Paris,"  and  the  "honors  of  Ganymede,"  without  this 
knowledge. 

Shall  we  be  told  that  answers  to  such  queries  may 
be  found  in  notes,  or  by  a  reference  to  the  Classical 
Dictionary?  We  reply,  the  interruption  of  one's  read- 
ing by  either  process  is  so  annoying  that  most  readers 
prefer  to  let  an  allusion  pass  unapprehended  rather  than 
submit  to  it.  Moreover,  such  sources  give  us  only  the 
dry  facts  without  any  of  the  charm  of  the  original  nar- 
rative; and  what  is  a  poetical  myth  when  stripped  of 
its  poetry?  The  story  of  Ceyx  and  Halcyone,  which 
fills  a  chapter  in  our  book,  occupies  but  eight  lines 
in  the  best  (Smith's)  Classical  Dictionary;  and  so  of 
others. 

Our  work  is  an  attempt  to  solve  this  problem,  by 
telling  the  stories  of  mythology  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
make  them  a  source  of  amusement.  We  have  endeav- 
ored to  tell  them  correctly,  according  to  the  ancient 
authorities,  so  that  when  the  reader  finds  them  referred 
to  he  may  not  be  at  a  loss  to  recognize  the  reference. 
Thus  we  hope  to  teach  mythology  not  as  a  study,  but  as 
a  relaxation  from  study;  to  give  our  work  the  charm 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE  vh 

of  a  story-book,  yet  by  means  of  it  to  impart  a  knowledge 
of  an  important  branch  of  education.  The  index  at  the 
end  will  adapt  it  to  the  purposes  of  reference,  and  make 
it  a  Classical  Dictionary  for  the  parlor. 

Most  of  the  classical  legends  in  "Stories  of  Gods  and 
Heroes"  are  derived  from  Ovid  and  Virgil.  The>  are 
not  literally  translated,  for,  in  the  author's  opinion, 
poetry  translated  into  literal  prose  is  very  unattractive 
reading.  Neither  are  they  in  verse,  as  well  for  other 
reasons  as  from  a  conviction  that  to  translate  faithfully 
under  all  the  embarrassments  of  rhyme  and  measure  is 
impossible.  The  attempt  has  been  made  to  tell  the  stories 
in  prose,  preserving  so  much  o*the  poetry  as  resides  in 
the  thoughts  and  is  separable  from  the  language  itself, 
and  omitting  those  amplifications  which  are  not  suited  to 
the  altered  form. 

The  Northern  mythological  stories  are  copied  with 
some  abridgment  from  Mallet's  "Northern  Antiquities." 
These  chapters,  with  those  on  Oriental  and  Egyptian 
mythology,  seemed  necessary  to  complete  the  subject, 
though  it  is  believed  these  topics  have  not  usually 
been  presented  in  the  same  volume  with  the  classical 
fables. 

The  poetical  citations  so  freely  introduced  are  ex- 
pected to  answer  several  valuable  purposes.  They  will 
tend  to  fix  in  memory  the  leading  fact  of  each  story,  they 
will  help  to  the  attainment  of  a  correct  pronunciation  of 
the  proper  names,  and  they  will  enrich  the  memory  with 
many  gems  of  poetry,  some  of  them  such  as  are  most 
frequently  quoted  or  alluded  to  in  reading  and  con- 
versation. 

Having  chosen  mythology  as  connected  with  litera- 
ture for  our  province,  we  have  endeavored  to  omit  noth- 
ing which  the  reader  of  elegant  literature  is  likely  to 
find  occasion  for.  Such  stories  and  parts  of  stories  as 
are  offensive  to  pure  taste  and  good  morals  are  not  given. 
But  such  stories  are  not  often  referred  to,  and  if  they 
occasionally  should  be,  the  English  reader  need  feel 
no  mortification  in  confessing  his  ignorance  of  them. 

Our  work  is  not  for  the  learned,  nor  for  the  theolo- 
gian, nor  for  the  philosopher,  but  for  the  reader  of 


viii  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

English  literature,  of  either  sex,  who  wishes  to  com- 
prehend the  allusions  so  frequently  made  by  public 
speakers,  lecturers,  essayists,  and  poets,  and  those  which 
occur  in  polite  conversation. 


In  the  "Stories  of  Gods  and  Heroes"  the  compiler  has 
endeavored  to  impart  the  pleasures  of  classical  learning 
to  the  English  reader,  by  presenting  the  stories  of  Pagan 
mythology  in  a  form  adapted  to  modern  taste.  In  "King 
Arthur  and  His  Knights"  and  "The  Mabinogeon"  the 
attempt  has  been  made  to  treat  in  the  same  way  the 
stories  of  the  second  "age  of  fable/'  the  age  which 
witnessed  the  dawn  of  the  several  states  of  Modern 
Europe. 

It  is  believed  that  this  presentation  of  a  literature 
which  held  unrivalled  sway  over  the  imaginations  of 
our  ancestors,  for  many  centuries,  will  not  be  without 
benefit  to  the  reader,  in  addition  to  the  amusement  it 
may  afford.  The  tales,  though  not  to  be  trusted  for 
their  facts,  are  worthy  of  all  credit  as  pictures  of  man- 
ners; and  it  is  beginning  to  be  held  that  the  manners 
and  modes  of  thinking  of  an  age  are  a  more  important 
part  of  its  history  than  the  conflicts  of  its  peoples,  gen- 
erally leading  to  no  result.  Besides  this,  the  literature 
of  romance  is  a  treasure-house  of  poetical  material,  to 
which  modern  poets  frequently  resort.  The  Italian  poets, 
Dante  and  Ariosto,  the  English,  Spenser,  Scott,  and  Ten- 
nyson, and  our  own  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  are  ex- 
amples of  this. 

These  legends  are  so  connected  with  each  other,  so 
consistently  adapted  to  a  group  of  characters  strongly 
individualized  in  Arthur,  Launcelot,  and  their  compeers, 
and  so  lighted  up  by  the  fires  of  imagination  and  inven- 
tion, that  they  seem  as  well  adapted  to  the  poet's  pur- 
pose as  the  legends  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  mythology. 
And  if  every  well-educated  young  person  is  expected  to 
know  the  story  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  why  is  the  quest 
of  the  Sangreal  less  worthy  of  his  acquaintance?  Or  if 
an  allusion  to  the  shield  of  Achilles  ought  not  to  pass 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE  ix 

onapprehended,  why  should  one  to  Excalibar,  the  famous 
sword  of  Arthur? — 

"Of  Arthur,  who,  to  upper  light  restored, 
With  that  terrific  sword, 
Which  yet  he  brandishes  for  future  war, 
Shall  lift  his  country's  fame  above  the  polar  star."1 

It  is  an  additional  recommendation  of  our  subject,  that 
it  tends  to  cherish  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  the  source 
from  which  we  sprung.  We  are  entitled  to  our  full 
share  in  the  glories  and  recollections  of  the  land  of  our 
forefathers,  down  to  the  time  of  colonization  thence. 
The  associations  which  spring  from  this  source  must  be 
fruitful  of  good  influences ;  among  which  not  the  least 
valuable  is  the  increased  enjoyment  which  such  associ- 
ations afford  to  the  American  traveller  when  he  visits 
England,  and  sets  his  foot  upon  any  of  her  renowned 
localities. 


The  legends  of  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  are  neces- 
sary to  complete  the  subject. 

In  an  age  when  intellectual  darkness  enveloped  West- 
ern Europe,  a  constellation  of  brilliant  writers  arose  in 
Italy.  Of  these,  Pulci  (born  in  1432),  Boiardo  (1434), 
and  Ariosto  (1474)  took  for  their  subjects  the  romantic 
fables  which  had  for  many  ages  been  transmitted  in  the 
lays  of  bards  and  the  legends  of  monkish  chroniclers. 
These  fables  they  arranged  in  order,  adorned  with  the 
embellishments  of  fancy,  amplified  from  their  own  in- 
vention, and  stamped  with  immortality.  It  may  safely 
be  asserted  that  as  long  as  civilization  shall  endure  these 
productions  will  retain  their  place  among  the  most  cher- 
ished creations  of  human  genius. 

In  "Stories  of  Gods  and  Heroes,"  "King  Arthur  and 
His  Knights*'  and  "The  Mabinogeon"  the  aim  has  been 
to  supply  to  the  modern  reader  such  knowledge  of  the 
fables  of  classical  and  mediaeval  literature  as  is  needed  to 
render  intelligible  the  allusions  which  occur  in  reading 
and  conversation.  The  "Legends  of  Charlemagne"  is 

»  Wordsworth. 


x  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

intended  to  carry  out  the  same  design.  Like  the  earlier 
portions  of  the  work,  it  aspires  to  a  higher  character 
than  that  of  a  piece  of  mere  amusement.  It  claims  to  be 
useful,  in  acquainting  its  readers  with  the  subjects  of 
the  productions  of  the  great  poets  of  Italy.  Some 
knowledge  of  these  is  expected  of  every  well-educated 
young  person. 

In  reading  these  romances,  we  cannot  fail  to  observe 
how  the  primitive  inventions  have  been  used,  again  and 
again,  by  successive  generations  of  fabulists.  The  Siren 
of  Ulysses  is  the  prototype  of  the  Siren  of  Orlando,  and 
the  character  of  Circe  reappears  in  Alcina.  The  foun- 
tains of  Love  and  Hatred  may  be  traced  to  the  story  of 
Cupid  and  Psyche;  and  similar  effects  produced  by  a 
magic  draught  appear  in  the  tale  of  Tristram  and  Isoude, 
and,  substituting  a  flower  for  the  draught,  in  Shakspeare's 
"Midsummer  Night's  Dream."  There  are  many  other 
instances  of  the  same  kind  which  the  reader  will  rec- 
ognize without  our  assistance. 

The  sources  whence  we  derive  these  stories  are,  first, 
the  Italian  poets  named  above;  next,  the  "Romans  de 
Chevalerie"  of  the  Comte  de  Tressan;  lastly,  certain 
German  collections  of  popular  tales.  Some  chapters 
have  been  borrowed  from  Leigh  Hunt's  Translations 
from  the  Italian  Poets.  It  seemed  unnecessary  to  do 
over  again  what  he  had  already  done  so  well;  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  those  stories  could  not  be  omitted  from 
the  series  without  leaving  it  incomplete. 

THOMAS  BULFINCH. 


CONTENTS 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Introduction I 

II.     Prometheus    and    Pandora 12 

III.     Apollo  and  Daphne  —  Pyramus  and  This- 

be  —  Cephalus   and   Procris    ....  19 

lAf.     Juno   and   her   Rivals,   lo   and  Callisto —  """" 
Diana    and    Actaeon  —  Latona    and    the 

Rustics 28 

V.     Phaeton 38 

VI.     Midas  —  Baucis  and  Philemon  ....  46 
Opll.     Proserpine  —  Glaucus  and  Scylla   ...  52 
VIII.     Pygmalion  —  Dryope  —  Venus    and    Ado- 
nis—  Apollo  and   Hyacinthus      ...  62 

IX.     Ceyx  and  Halcyone 69 

y*X.     Vertumnus      and      Pomona  —  Iphis      and 

Anaxarete 76 

\X.I.     Cupid   and  Psyche 80 

XII.     Cadmus  —  The  Myrmidons 91 

XIII.     Nisus   and   Scylla  —  Echo   and   Narcissus 

—  Clytie  —  Hero  and  Leander    ...  98 

•KJV.     Minerva  and  Arachne  —  Niobe       .      .      .  107 
XV.     The    Grseae    and    Gorgons  —  Perseus    and 

Medusa  —  Atlas  —  Andromeda    .      .      .  115 
XVI.     Monsters:     Giants  —  Sphinx  —  Pegasus 
anc\  Chimaera  —  Centaurs  —  Griffin  — 

Pygmies 12^ 

XVII.     The  Golden  Fleece  —  Medea     ....  120 

XVIII.     Meleager  and  Atalanta r$& 

XIX.     Hercules  —  Hebe  and  Ganymede   .      .      .  143 
xi 


Xll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XX.    Theseus  and  Daedalus  —  Castor  and  Pol- 
lux—  Festivals  and  Games    ....      150 

XXI.     Bacchus  and  Ariadne 160 

XXII.     The    Rural    Deities  — The    Dryads    and 
Erisichthon  —  Rhoecus  —  Water  Deities 

—  Camense  —  Winds 166 

XXIII.  Achelous    and    Hercules  —  Aclmetus    and 

Alcestis  —  Antigone  —  Penelope        .      .      177 

XXIV.  Orpheus     and      Eurydice  —  Aristaeus  — 

Amphion  —  Linus  —  Thamyris  —  Mar- 
syas  —  Melampus  —  Musaeus        .      .      .     185 

XXV.     Arion  —  Ibycus  —  Simonides  —  Sappho    .     194 

XXVI.     Endymion  —  Orion  —  Aurora  and   Titho- 

nus  —  Acis  and  Galatea 204 

XXVII.     The  Trojan  War 211 

XXVIII.     The  Fall  of  Troy  — Return  of  the  Greeks 

—  Orestes  and  Electra 227 

XXIX.     Adventures  of  Ulysses  —  The  Lotus-eaters 

—  The    Cyclopes  —  Circe  —  Sirens  — 
Scylla  and  Charybdis  —  Calypso       .      .     2$ 

XXX.     The  Phaeacians  —  Fate  of  the  Suitors  .      .     247 

XXXI.     Adventures   of  ^neas  — The   Harpies  — 

Dido  —  Palinurus 258 

XXXII.    The  Infernal  Regions  —  The  Sibyl       .     .     266 
XXXIII.    -^Eneas    in    Italy  —  Camilla  —  Evander — 
Nisus    and     Euryalus  —  Mezentius  — 

Turnus 276 

^WfXIV.     Pythagoras  —  Egyptian  Deities  —  Oracles     288 

XXXV.     Origin   of    Mythology— Statues    of    Gods 

and  Goddesses  —  Poets  of  Mythology   .     300 

XXXVI.     Monsters     (modern)  —  The    Phoenix  — 

Basilisk  —  Unicorn  —  Salamander    .      .     310 

XXXVII.  Eastern  Mythology  —  Zoroaster  —  Hindu 
Mythology  —  Castes  —  Buddha  —  The 
Grand  Lama  —  Prester  John.  .  .  .  318 


CONTENTS 


Xlll 


X^XVIII. 
X5tXIX. 


Northern  Mythology  —  Valhalla  —  The 
Valkyrior  .........  328 

Thor's  Visit  to  Jotunheim   .....     337 

The  Death  of  Baldur  —  The  Elves  — 
Runic  Letters  —  Skalds  —  Iceland  — 
Teutonic  Mythology  —  The  Nibelun- 
gen  Lied  —  Wagner's  Nibelungen  Ring  343 

The  Druids  —  lona     .....  *    •      •     35$ 


KING  ARTHUR  AND   HIS   KNIGHTS 

I.     Introduction 367 

II.  The  Mythical  History  of  England  .      .      .  378 

III.  Merlin 389 

IV.  Arthur 394 

V.     Arthur  (Continued) 405 

VI.     Sir  Gawain 414 

VII.  Caradoc  Rriefbras;  or,  Caradoc  with  the 

Shrunken  Arm 418 

VIII.     Launcelot  of  the  Lake 424 

IX.     The  Adventure  of  the  Cart 435 

X.     The  Lady  of  Shalott 441 

XL     Queen  Gtienever's  Peril 445 

XII.     Tristram  and  Isoude 449 

XIII.  Tristram  and  Isoude  (Continued)  .      .      .  457 

XIV.  Sir  Tristram's  Battle  with  Sir  Launcelot.  464 
XV.     The  Round  Table 467 

XVI.     Sir  Palamedcs 472 

XVII.     Sir   Tristram 475 

XVIII.     Perceval 479 

XIX.  The  Sangreal,  or  Holy  Graal   ....  486 

XX.     The  Sangreal  (Continued) 491 

XXL     The  Sangreal  (Continued) 497 

XXII.     Sir  Agrivain's  Treason 507 

XXIII.    Morte  d' Arthur 515 


xiv  CONTENTS 


THE  MABINOGEON 

CHAPTER  ?AGB 

Introductory  Note 527 

I.     The  Britons 529 

II.     The  Lady  of  the  Fountain 534 

III.  The  Lady  of  the  Fountain  (Continued)  .      .      .  539 

IV.  The  Lady  of  the  Fountain  (Continued)  .     .     .  546 
V.     Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin 553 

VI.     Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin  (Continued)  .     .     .  564 

VII.     Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin  (Continued)  .      .      .  572 

VIII.     Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyved 583 

IX.     Branwen,  the  Daughter  of  Llyr 589 

X.     Manawyddan        597 

XL     Kilwich  and  Olwen 608 

XII.     Kilwich  and  Olwen  (Continued) 620 

XIII.     Taliesin 626 


HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

Beowulf 635 

Cuchulain,  Champion  of  Ireland 637 

Hereward  the  Wake 641 

Robin   Hood 643 


LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Introduction 647 

The  Peers,  or  Paladins 656 

The  Tournament 664 

The  Siege  of  Albracca 672 

Adventures  of  Rinaldo  and  Orlando 683 

The  Invasion  of  France 693 

The  Invasion  of  France  (Continued) 702 


CONTENTS  xv 

PAGE 

Bradamante  and  Rogero 712 

Astolpho  and  the  Enchantress 721 

The  Ore 732 

Astolpho's  Adventures  continued,  and  Isabella's  begun  .  739 

Medoro        745 

Orlando  Mad 753 

Zerbino  and  Isabella 760 

Astolpho  in  Abyssinia 769 

The  War  in  Africa 777 

Rogero  and  Bradamante 788 

The  Battle  of  Roncesvalles 801 

Rinaldo  and  Bayard 814 

Death  of  Rinaldo 819 

Huon  of  Bordeaux 825 

Huon  of  Bordeaux  (Continued) 832 

Huon  of  Bordeaux  (Continued) 842 

Ogier,  the  Dane 848 

Ogier,  the  Dane  (Continued) 856 

Ogier,  the  Dane  (Continued) 863 


PROVERBIAL  EXPRESSIONS 873 

LIST  o?   ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES  QUOTED   FROM   THE 

POETS 875 

DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 877 


THE  WORLD  OF  THE  ANCIENT  GREEKS  AND  ROMANS,  SHOWING         LOCATION  OF  PLACKS  MENTIONED  IN  "STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES." 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  religions  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome  are  ex- 
tinct. The  so-called  divinities  of  Olympus  have  not  a 
single  worshipper  among  living  men.  They  belong  now 
not  to  the  department  of  theology,  but  to  those  of  liter- 
ature and  taste.  There  they  still  hold  their  place,  and 
will  continue  to  hold  it,  for  they  are  too  closely  con- 
nected with  the  finest  productions  of  poetry  and  art, 
both  ancient  and  modern,  to  pass  into  oblivion. 

We  propose  to  tell  the  stories  relating  to  them  which 
have  come  down  to  us  from  the  ancients,  and  which  are 
alluded  to  by  modern  poets,  essayists,  and  orators.  Our 
readers  may  thus  at  the  same  time  be  entertained  by 
the  most  charming  fictions  which  fancy  has  ever  created, 
and  put  in  possession  of  information  indispensable  to 
every  one  who  would  read  with  intelligence  the  elegant 
literature  of  his  own  day. 

In  order  to  understand  these  stories,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  ideas  of  the  structure 
of  the  universe  which  prevailed  among  the  Greeks — 
the  people  from  whom  the  Romans,  and  other  nations 
through  them,  received  their  science  and  religion. 

The  Greeks  believed  the  earth  to  be  flat  and  cir- 
cular, their  own  country  occupying  the  middle  of  it,  the 
central  point  being  either  Mount  Olympus,  the  abode 
of  the  gods,  or  Delphi,  so  famous  for  its  oracle. 

The  circular  disk  of  the  earth  was  crossed  from  west 
to  east  and  divided  into  two  equal  parts  by  the  Sea, 
as  they  called  the  Mediterranean,  and  its  continuation 

31 


2  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  Euxine,  the  only  seas  with  which  they  were  ac- 
quainted. 

Around  the  earth  flowed  the  River  Ocean,  its  course 
being  from  south  to  north  on  the  western  side  of  the 
earth,  and  in  a  contrary  direction  on  the  eastern  side. 
It  flowed  in  a  steady,  equable  current,  unvexed  by  storm 
or  tempest.  The  sea,  and  all  the  rivers  on  earth,  re- 
ceived their  waters  from  it. 

The  northern  portion  of  the  earth  was  supposed  to 
be  inhabited  by  a  happy  race  named  the  Hyperboreans, 
dwelling  in  everlasting  bliss  and  spring  beyond  the  lofty 
mountains  whose  caverns  were  supposed  to  send  forth 
the  piercing  blasts  of  the  north  wind,  which  chilled  the 
people  of  Hellas  (Greece).  Their  country  was  inac- 
cessible by  land  or  sea.  They  lived  exempt  from  dis- 
ease or  old  age,  from  toils  and  warfare.  Moore  has 
given  us  the  "Song  of  a  Hyperborean,"  beginning 

"I  come  from  a  land  in  the  sun-bright  deep, 

Where  golden  gardens  glow, 

Where  the  winds  of  the  north,  becalmed  in  sleep, 
Their  conch  shells  never  blow." 

On  the  south  side  of  the  earth,  close  to  the  stream 
of  Ocean,  dwelt  a  people  happy  and  virtuous  as  the 
Hyperboreans.  They  were  named  the  /Ethiopians.  The 
gods  favored  them  so  highly  that  they  were  wont  to 
leave  at  times  their  Olympian  abodes  and  go  to  share 
their  sacrifices  and  banquets. 

On  the  western  margin  of  the  earth,  by  the  stream  of 
Ocean,  lay  a  happy  place  named  the  Elysian  Plain, 
whither  mortals  favored  by  the  gods  were  transported 
without  tasting  of  death,  to  enjoy  an  immortality  of 
bliss.  This  happy  region  was  also  called  the  "Fortunate 
Fields,"  and  the  "Isles  of  the  Blessed." 

We  thus  see  that  the  Greeks  of  the  early  ages  knew 
little  of  any  real  people  except  those  to  the  east  and 
south  of  their  own  country,  or  near  the  coast  of  the 
Mediterranean.  Their  imagination  meantime  peopled 
the  western  portion  of  this  sea  with  giants,  monsters, 
and  enchantresses ;  while  they  placed  around  the  disk 
of  the  earth,  which  they  probably  regarded  as  of  no 


INTRODUCTION  3 

great  width,  nations  enjoying  the  peculiar  favor  of  the 
gods,  and  blessed  with  happiness  and  longevity. 

The  Dawn,  the  Sun,  and  the  Moon  were  supposed 
to  rise  out  of  the  Ocean,  on  the  eastern  side,  and  to 
drive  through  the  air,  giving  light  to  gods  and  men. 
The  stars,  also,  except  those  forming  the  Wain  or  Bear, 
and  others  near  them,  rose  out  of  and  sank  into  the 
stream  of  Ocean.  There  the  sun-god  embarked  in  a 
winged  boat,  which  conveyed  him  round  by  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  earth,  back  to  his  place  of  rising  in  the 
east.  Milton  alludes  to  this  in  his  "Comus" : 

"Now  the  gilded  car  of  day 
His  golden  axle  doth  allay 
In  the  steep  Atlantic  stream, 
And  the  slope  Sun  his  upward  beam 
Shoots  against  the  dusky  pole, 
Pacing  towards  the  other  goal 
Of  his  chamber  in  the  east." 

The  abode  of  the  gods  was  on  the  summit  of  Mount 
Olympus,  in  Thessaly.  A  gate  of  clouds,  kept  by  the 
goddesses  named  the  Seasons,  opened  to  permit  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Celestials  to  earth,  and  to  receive  them  on 
their  return.  The  gods  had  their  separate  dwellings ;  but 
all,  when  summoned,  repaired  to  the  palace  of  Jupiter, 
as  did  also  those  deities  whose  usual  abode  was  the 
earth,  the  waters,  or  the  underworld.  It  was  also  in 
the  great  hall  of  the  palace  of  the  Olympian  king  that 
the  gods  feasted  each  day  on  ambrosia  and  nectar,  their 
food  and  drink,  the  latter  being  handed  round  by  the 
lovely  goddess  Hebe.  Here  they  conversed  of  the  af- 
fairs of  heaven  and  earth;  and  as  they  quaffed  their 
nectar,  Apollo,  the  god  of  music,  delighted  them  with  the 
tones  of  his  lyre,  to  which  the  Muses  sang  in  responsive 
strains.  When  the  sun  was  set,  the  gods  retired  to  sleep 
in  their  respective  dwellings. 

The  following  lines  from  the  "Odyssey'*  will  show 
how  Homer  conceived  of  Olympus : 

"So  saying,  Minerva,  goddess  azure-eyed, 
Rose  to  Olympus,  the  reputed  seat 
Eternal  of  the  gods,  which  never  storms 


4  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Disturb,  rains  drench,  or  snow  invades,  but  calm 
The  expanse  and  cloudless  shines  with  purest  day. 
There  the  inhabitants  divine  rejoice 
Forever."  Cowper. 

The  robes  and  other  parts  of  the  dress  of  the  god- 
desses were  woven  by  Minerva  and  the  Graces  and 
everything  of  a  more  solid  nature  was  formed  of  the 
various  metals.  Vulcan  was  architect,  smith,  armorer, 
chariot  builder,  and  artist  of  all  work  in  Olympus.  He 
built  of  brass  the  houses  of  the  gods;  he  made  for  them 
the  golden  shoes  with  which  they  trod  the  air  or  the 
water,  and  moved  from  place  to  place  with  the  speed 
of  the  wind,  or  even  of  thought.  He  also  shod  with 
brass  the  celestial  steeds,  which  whirled  the  chariots  of 
the  gods  through  the  air,  or  along  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  He  was  able  to  bestow  on  his  workmanship  self- 
motion,  so  that  the  tripods  (chairs  and  tables)  could 
move  of  themselves  in  and  out  of  the  celestial  hall.  He 
even  endowed  with  intelligence  the  golden  handmaidens 
whom  he  made  to  wait  on  himself. 

Jupiter,  or  Jove  (Zeus  *),  though  called  the  father  of 
gods  and  men,  had  himself  a  beginning.  Saturn  (Cro- 
nos) was  his  father,  and  Rhea  (Ops)  his  mother.  Sat- 
urn and  Rhea  were  of  the  race  of  Titans,  who  were 
the  children  of  Earth  and  Heaven,  which  sprang  from 
Chaos,  of  which  we  shall  give  a  further  account  in  our 
next  chapter. 

There  is  another  cosmogony,  or  account  of  the  crea- 
tion, according  to  which  Earth,  Erebus,  and  Love  were 
the  first  of  beings.  Love  (Eros)  issued  from  the  egg 
of  Night,  which  floated  on  Chaos.  By  his  arrows  and 
torch  he  pierced  and  vivified  all  things,  producing  life 
and  joy. 

Saturn  and  Rhea  were  not  the  only  Titans.  There 
were  others,  whose  names  were  Oceanus,  Hyperion, 
lapetus,  and  Ophion,  males;  and  Themis,  Mnemosyne, 
Eurynome,  females.  They  are  spoken  of  as  the  elder 
gods,  whose  dominion  was  afterwards  transferred  to 
others.  Saturn  yielded  to  Jupiter,  Oceanus  to  Nep- 

1  The  names  included  in  parentheses  are  the  Greek,  the  others  being  the 
Roman  or  Latin  names. 


INTRODUCTION  5 

tune,  Hyperion  to  Apollo.  Hyperion  was  the  father 
of  the  Sun,  Moon,  and  Dawn.  He  is  therefore  the 
original  sun-god,  and  is  painted  with  the  splendor  and 
beauty  which  were  afterwards  bestowed  on  Apollo. 

"Hyperion's  curls,  the  front  of  Jove  himself.'* 

Shakspeare. 

Ophion  and  Eurynome  ruled  over  Olympus  till  they 
were  dethroned  by  Saturn  and  Rhea.  Milton  alludes 
to  them  in  "Paradise  Lost."  He  says  the  heathens  seem 
to  have  had  some  knowledge  of  the  temptation  and  fall 
of  man. 

"And  fabled  how  the  serpent,  whom  they  called 
Ophion,  with  Eurynome,  (the  wide- 
Encroaching  Eve  perhaps,)   had  first  the  rule 
Of  high  Olympus,  thence  by  Saturn  driven." 

The  representations  given  of  Saturn  are  not  very 
consistent ;  for  on  the  one  hand  his  reign  is  said  to  have 
been  the  golden  age  of  innocence  and  purity,  and  on  the 
other  he  is  described  as  a  monster  who  devoured  his 
children.1  Jupiter,  however,  escaped  this  fate,  and  when 
grown  up  espoused  Metis  (Prudence),  who  adminis- 
tered a  draught  to  Saturn  which  caused  him  to  disgorge 
his  children.  Jupiter,  with  his  brothers  and  sisters,  now 
rebelled  against  their  father  Saturn  and  his  brothers 
the  Titans;  vanquished  them,  and  imprisoned  some  of 
them  in  Tartarus,  inflicting  other  penalties  on  others. 
Atlas  was  condemned  to  bear  up  the  heavens  on  his 
shoulders. 

On  the  dethronement  of  Saturn,  Jupiter  with  his 
brothers  Neptune  (Poseidon)  and  Pluto  (Dis)  divided 
his  dominions.  Jupiter's  portion  was  the  heavens,  Nep- 
tune's the  ocean,  and  Pluto's  the  realms  of  the  dead. 
Earth  and  Olympus  were  common  property.  Jupiter 
was  king  of  gods  and  men.  The  thunder  was  his  weap- 
on, and  he  bore  a  shield  called  ^Egis,  made  for  him  by 

1  This  inconsistency  arises  from  considering  the  Saturn  of  the  Romans 
the  same  with  the  Grecian  deity  Cronos  (Time),  which,  as  it  brings 
an  end  to  all  things  which  have  had  a  beginning,  may  be  said  to  devour 
its  own  offspring. 


6  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Vulcan.  The  eagle  was  his  favorite  bird,  and  bore  his 
thunderbolts. 

Juno  (Hera)  was  the  wife  of  Jupiter,  and  queen  of 
the  gods.  Iris,  the  goddess  of  the  rainbow,  was  her 
attendant  and  messenger.  The  peacock  was  her  favorite 
bird. 

Vulcan  (Hephaestos),  the  celestial  artist,  was  the  son 
of  Jupiter  and  Juno.  He  was  born  lame,  and  his 
mother  was  so  displeased  at  the  sight  of  him  that  she 
flung  him  out  of  heaven.  Other  accounts  say  that 
Jupiter  kicked  him  out  for  taking  part  with  his  mother 
in  a  quarrel  which  occurred  between  them.  Vulcan's 
lameness,  according  to  this  account,  was  the  consequence 
of  his  fall.  He  was  a  whole  day  falling,  and  at  last 
alighted  in  the  island  of  Lemnos,  which  was  thence- 
forth sacred  to  him.  Milton  alludes  to  this  story  in 
"Paradise  Lost/'  Book  I. : 

"...  From  morn 

To  noon  lie  fell,   from  noon  to  dewy  eve, 
A  summer's  day;  and  with  the  setting  sun 
Dropped  from  the  zenith,  like  a  falling  star, 
On  Lemnos,  the  /Egean  isle." 

Mars  (Ares),  the  god  of  war,  was  the  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Juno. 

Phcebus  Apollo,  the  god  of  archery,  prophecy,  and 
music,  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Latona,  and  brother 
of  Diana  (Artemis).  He  was  god  of  the  sun,  as  Diana, 
his  sister,  was  the  goddess  of  the  moon. 

Venus  (Aphrodite),  the  goddess  of  love  and  beauty, 
was  the  daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Dione.  Others  say 
that  Venus  sprang  from  the  foam  of  the  sea.  The  zephyr 
wafted  her  along  the  waves  to  the  Isle  of  Cyprus,  where 
she  was  received  and  attired  by  the  Seasons,  and  then 
led  to  the  assembly  of  the  gods.  All  were  charmed 
with  her  beauty,  and  each  one  demanded  her  for  his 
wife.  Jupiter  gave  her  to  Vulcan,  in  gratitude  for  the 
service  he  had  rendered  in  forging  thunderbolts.  So 
the  most  beautiful  of  the  goddesses  became  the  wife  of 
the  most  ill-favored  of  gods.  Venus  possessed  an  em- 
broidered girdle  called  Cestus,  which  had  the  power  of 


INTRODUCTION  7 

inspiring  love.  Her  favorite  birds  were  swans  and 
doves,  and  the  plants  sacred  to  her  were  the  rose  and 
the  myrtle. 

Cupid  (Eros),  the  god  of  love,  was  the  son  of  Venus. 
He  was  her  constant  companion;  and,  armed  with  bow 
and  arrows,  he  shot  the  darts  of  desire  into  the  bosoms 
of  both  gods  and  men.  There  was  a  deity  named  An- 
teros,  who  was  sometimes  represented  as  the  avenger 
of  slighted  love,  and  sometimes  as  the  symbol  of  re- 
ciprocal affection.  The  following  legend  is  told  of  him: 

Venus,  complaining  to  Themis  that  her  son  Eros  con- 
tinued always  a  child,  was  told  by  her  that  it  was  be- 
cause he  was  solitary,  and  that  if  he  had  a  brother  he 
would  grow  apace.  Antcros  was  soon  afterwards  born, 
and  Eros  immediately  was  seen  to  increase  rapidly  in 
size  and  strength. 

Minerva  (Pallas,  Athene),  the  goddess  of  wisdom, 
was  the  offspring  of  Jupiter,  without  a  mother.  She 
sprang  forth  from  his  head  completely  armed.  Her 
favorite  bird  was  the  owl,  and  the  plant  sacred  to  her 
the  olive. 

Byron,  in  "Childe  Harold,"  alludes  to  the  birth  of 
Minerva  thus : 

"Can  tyrants  but  by  tyrants  conquered  be, 
And  Freedom  find  no  champion  and  no  child, 
Such  as  Columbia  saw  arise,  when  she 
Sprang  forth  a  Pallas,  armed  and  undenled? 
Or  must  such  minds  be  nourished  in  the  wild, 
Deep  in  the  ur.pruned  forest,  'midst  the  roar 
Of  cataracts,  where  nursing  Nature  smiled 
On  infant  Washington?     Has  earth  no  more 
Such  seeds  within  her  breast,  or  Europe  no  such  shore?" 

Mercury  (Hermes)  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Maia. 
He  presided  over  commerce,  wrestling,  and  other  gym- 
nastic exercises,  even  over  thieving,  and  everything,  in 
short,  which  required  skill  and  dexterity.  He  was  the 
messenger  of  Jupiter,  and  wore  a  winged  cap  and  winged 
shoes.  He  bore  in  his  hand  a  rod  entwined  with  two 
serpents,  called  the  caduceus. 

Mercury  is  said  to  have  invented  the  lyre.  He 
found,  one  day,  a  tortoise,  of  which  he  took  the  shell, 


8  STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

made  holes  in  the  opposite  edges  of  it,  and  drew  cords 
of  linen  through  them,  and  the  instrument  was  com- 
plete. The  cords  were  nine,  in  honor  of  the  nine  Muses. 
Mercury  gave  the  lyre  to  Apollo,  and  received  from 
him  in  exchange  the  caduceus.1 

Ceres  (Demeter)  was  the  daughter  of  Saturn  and 
Rhea.  She  had  a  daughter  named  Proserpine  (Per- 
sephone), who  became  the  wife  of  Pluto,  and  queen 
of  the  realms  of  the  dead.  Ceres  presided  over  agri- 
culture. 

Bacchus  (Dionysus),  the  god  of  wine,  was  the  son 
of  Jupiter  and  Semele.  He  represents  not  only  the  in- 
toxicating power  of  wine,  but  its  social  and  beneficent 
influences  likewise,  so  that  he  is  viewed  as  the  pro- 
moter of  civilization,  and  a  lawgiver  and  lover  of  peace. 

The  Muses  were  the  daughters  of  Jupiter  and  Mne- 
mosyne (Memory).  They  presided  over  song,  and 
prompted  the  memory.  They  were  nine  in  number, 
to  each  of  whom  was  assigned  the  presidence  over 
some  particular  department  of  literature,  art,  or  science. 
Calliope  was  the  muse  of  epic  poetry,  Clio  of  history, 
Euterpe  of  lyric  poetry,  Melpomene  of  tragedy,  Terp- 
sichore of  choral  dance  and  song,  Erato  of  love  poetry, 
Polyhymnia  of  sacred  poetry,  Urania  of  astronomy, 
Thalia  of  comedy. 

The  Graces  were  goddesses  presiding  over  the  ban- 
quet, the  dance,  and  all  social  enjoyments  and  elegant 
arts.  They  were  three  in  number.  Their  names  were 
Euphrosyne,  Aglaia,  and  Thalia. 

Spenser  describes  the  office  of  the  Graces  thus: 

"These  three  on  men  all  gracious  gifts  bestow 
Which  deck  the  body  or  adorn  the  mind, 
To  make  them  lovely  or  well-favored  show; 
As  comely  carriage,  entertainment  kind^ 
Sweet  semblance,  friendly  offices  that  bind, 
And  all  the  complements  of  courtesy; 

1  From  this  origin  of  the  instrument,  the  word  "shell"  is  often  used  as 
synonymous  with  "lyre,"  and  figuratively  for  music  and  poetry.  Thus 
Gray,  in  his  ode  on  the  "Progress  of  Poesy,"  says: 

"O   Sovereign   of   the   wiHing   Soul, 
Parent    of    sweet    and    solemn-breathing    airs, 
Enchanting  shell!   the  sullen   Cares 
And    frantic    Passions    hear    thy    soft    control." 


INTRODUCTION  9 

They  teach  us  how  to  each  degree  and  kind 
We  should  ourselves  demean,  to  low,  to  high, 
To  friends,  to  foes;   which  skill  men  call  Civility." 

The  Fates  were  also  three — Clotho,  Lachesis,  and 
Atropos.  Their  office  was  to  spin  the  thread  of  human 
destiny,  and  they  were  armed  with  shears,  with  which 
they  cut  it  off  when  they  pleased.  They  were  the 
daughters  of  Themis  (Law),  who  sits  by  Jove  on  his 
throne  to  give  him  counsel. 

The  Erinnyes,  or  Furies,  were  three  goddesses  who 
punished  by  their  secret  stings  the  crimes  of  those  who 
escaped  or  defied  public  justice.  The  heads  of  the 
Furies  were  wreathed  with  serpents,  and  their  whole 
appearance  was  terrific  and  appalling.  Their  names 
were  Alecto,  Tisiphone,  and  Megaera.  They  were  also 
called  Eumenides. 

Nemesis  was  also  an  avenging  goddess.  She  repre- 
sents the  righteous  anger  of  the  gods,  particularly 
towards  the  proud  and  insolent. 

Pan  was  the  god  of  flocks  and  shepherds.  His  fa- 
vorite residence  was  in  Arcadia. 

The  Satyrs  were  deities  of  the  woods  and  fields. 
They  were  conceived  to  be  covered  with  bristly  hair, 
their  heads  decorated  with  short,  sprouting  horns,  and 
their  feet  like  goats'  feet. 

Momus  was  the  god  of  laughter,  and  Plutus  the  god 
of  wealth. 

ROMAN   DIVINITIES 

The  preceding  are  Grecian  divinities,  though  received 
also  by  the  Romans.  Those  which  follow  are  peculiar 
to  Roman  mythology : 

Saturn  was  an  ancient  Italian  deity.  It  was  at- 
tempted to  identify  him  with  the  Grecian  god  Cronos, 
and  fabled  that  after  his  dethronement  by  Jupiter  he 
fled  to  Italy,  where  he  reigned  during  what  was  called 
the  Golden  Age.  In  memory  of  his  beneficent  do- 
minion, the  feast  of  Saturnalia  was  held  every  year  in 
the  winter  season.  Then  all  public  business  was  sus- 
pended, declarations  of  war  and  criminal  executions 


10         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

were  postponed,  friends  made  presents  to  one  another, 
and  the  slaves  were  indulged  with  great  liberties.  A 
feast  was  given  them  at  which  they  sat  at  table,  while 
their  masters  served  them,  to  show  the  natural  equality 
of  men,  and  that  all  things  belonged  equally  to  all,  in 
the  reign  of  Saturn. 

Faunus,1  the  grandson  of  Saturn,  was  worshipped  as 
the  god  of  fields  and  shepherds,  and  also  as  a  pro- 
phetic god.  His  name  in  the  plural,  Fauns,  expressed 
a  class  of  gamesome  deities,  like  the  Satyrs  of  the 
Greeks. 

Quirinus  was  a  war  god,  said  to  be  no  other  than 
Romulus,  the  founder  of  Rome,  exalted  after  his  death 
to  a  place  among  the  gods. 

Bellona,  a  war  goddess. 

Terminus,  the  god  of  landmarks.  His  statue  was  a 
rude  stone  or  post,  set  in  the  ground  to  m^ark  the  boun- 
daries of  fields. 

Pales,  the  goddess  presiding  over  cattle  and  pas- 
tures. 

Pomona  presided  over  fruit  trees. 

Flora,  the  goddess  of  flowers. 

Lucina,  the  goddess  of  childbirth. 

Vesta  (the  Hestia  of  the  Greeks)  was  a  deity  pre- 
siding over  the  public  and  private  hearth.  A  sacred 
fire,  tended  by  six  virgin  priestesses  called  Vestals, 
flamed  in  her  temple.  As  the  safety  of  the  city  was 
held  to  be  connected  with  its  conservation,  the  neglect 
of  the  virgins,  if  they  let  it  go  out,  was  severely  pun- 
ished, and  the  fire  was  rekindled  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun. 

Liber  is  the  Latin  name  of  Bacchus;  and  Mulciber 
of  Vulcan. 

Janus  was  the  porter  of  heaven.  He  opens  the  year, 
the  first  month  being  named  after  him.  He  is  the 
guardian  deity  of  gates,  on  which  account  he  is  com- 
monly represented  with  two  heads,  because  every  door 
looks  two  ways.  His  temples  at  Rome  were  numer- 
ous. In  war  time  the  gates  of  the  principal  one  were 
always  open.  In  peace  they  were  closed;  but  they 

1  There    was    also   a   goddess    called    Fauna,    or    Bona    Dea. 


INTRODUCTION  11 

were  shut  only  once  between  the  reign  of  Numa  and 
that  of  Augustus. 

The  Penates  were  the  gods  who  were  supposed  to 
attend  to  the  welfare  and  prosperity  of  the  family. 
Their  name  is  derived  from  Penus,  the  pantry,  which 
was  sacred  to  them.  Every  master  of  a  family  was 
the  priest  to  the  Penates  of  his  own  house. 

The  Lares,  or  Lars,  were  also  household  gods,  but 
differed  from  the  Penates  in  being  regarded  as  the  dei- 
fied spirits  of  mortals.  The  family  Lars  were  held  to 
be  the  souls  of  the  ancestors,  who  watched  over  and 
protected  their  descendants.  The  words  Lemur  and 
Larva  more  nearly  correspond  to  our  word  Ghost. 

The  Romans  believed  that  every  man  had  his  Genius, 
and  every  woman  her  Juno :  that  is,  a  spirit  who  had 
given  them  being,  and  was  regarded  as  their  protector 
through  life.  On  their  birthdays  men  made  offerings 
to  their  Genius,  women  to  their  Juno. 

A  modern  poet  thus  alludes  to  some  of  the  Roman 
gods: 

"Pomona  loves   the   orchard, 
And  Uber  loves  the  vine, 
And    Pales    loves    the    straw-built   shed 

Warm  with  the  breath  of  kine; 
And  Venus  loves  the  whisper 
Of  plighted  youth  and  maid, 
In  April's  ivory  moonlight, 
Beneath  the  chestnut  shade  " 

— Macattlay,  "Prophecy  of  Capys" 


N.B. — It  is  to  be  observed  that  in  proper  names  the 
final  e  and  es  are  to  be  sounded.  Thus  Cybele  and 
Penates  are  words  of  three  syllables.  But  Proserpine 
and  Thebes  are  exceptions,  and  to  be  pronounced  as 
English  words.  In  the  Index  at  the  close  of  the  vol- 
ume we  shall  mark  the  accented  syllable  in  all  words 
which  appear  to  require  it. 


12         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER   II 

PROMETHEUS  AND    PANDOFA 

THE  creation  of  the  world  is  a  problem  naturally 
fitted  to  excite  the  liveliest  interest  of  man,  its  inhabi- 
tant. The  ancient  pagans,  not  having  the  information 
on  the  subject  which  we  derive  from  the  pages  of  Scrip- 
ture, had  their  own  way  of  telling  the  story,  which  is 
as  follows : 

Before  earth  and  sea  and  heaven  were  created,  all 
things  wore  one  aspect,  to  which  we  give  the  name  of 
Chaos — a  confused  and  shapeless  mass,  nothing  but 
dead  weight,  in  which,  however,  slumbered  the  seeds  of 
things.  Earth,  sea,  and  air  were  all  mixed  up  together ; 
so  the  earth  was  not  solid,  the  sea  was  not  fluid,  and 
the  air  was  not  transparent.  God  and  Nature  at  last 
interposed,  and  put  an  end  to  this  discord,  separating 
earth  from  sea,  and  heaven  from  both.  The  fiery  part, 
being  the  lightest,  sprang  up,  and  formed  the  skies;  the 
air  was  next  in  weight  and  place.  The  earth,  being 
heavier,  sank  below ;  and  the  water  took  the  lowest  place, 
and  buoyed  up  the  earth. 

Here  some  god — it  is  not  known  which — gave  his 
good  offices  in  arranging  and  disposing  the  earth.  He 
appointed  rivers  and  bays  their  places,  raised  mountains, 
scooped  out  valleys,  distributed  woods,  fountains,  fertile 
fields,  and  stony  plains.  The  air  being  cleared,  the  stars 
began  to  appear,  fishes  took  possession  of  the  sea,  birds 
of  the  air,  and  four-footed  beasts  of  the  land. 

But  a  nobler  animal  was  wanted,  and  Man  was  made. 
It  is  not  known  whether  the  creator  made  him  of  divine 
materials,  or  whether  in  the  earth,  so  lately  separated 
from  heaven,  there  lurked  still  some  heavenly  seeds. 
Prometheus  took  some  of  this  earth,  and  kneading 
it  up  with  water,  made  man  in  the  image  of  the  gods. 
He  gave  him  an  upright  stature,  so  that  while  all  other 
animals  turn  their  faces  downward,  and  look  to  the 
earth,  he  raises  his  to  heaven,  and  gazes  on  the  stars. 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA  13 

Prometheus  was  one  of  the  Titans,  a  gigantic  race, 
who  inhabited  the  earth  before  the  creation  of  man. 
To  him  and  his  brother  Epimetheus  was  committed 
the  office  of  making  man,  and  providing  him  and  all 
other  animals  with  the  faculties  necessary  for  their 
preservation.  Epimetheus  undertook  to  do  this,  and 
jPrometheus  was  to  overlook  his  work,  when  it  was 
done.  Epimetheus  accordingly  proceeded  to  bestow 
upon  the  different  animals  the  various  gifts  of  courage, 
strength,  swiftness,  sagacity;  wings  to  one,  claws  to  an- 
other, a  shelly  covering  to  a  third,  etc.  But  when  man 
came  to  be  provided  for,  who  was  to  be  superior  to 
all  other  animals,  Epimetheus  had  been  so  prodigal  of 
his  resources  that  he  had  nothing  left  to  bestow  upon 
him.  In  his  perplexity  he  resorted  to  his  brother 
Prometheus,  who,  with  the  aid  of  Minerva,  went  up 
to  heaven,  and  lighted  his  torch  at  the  chariot  of  the 
sun,  and  brought  down  fire  to  man.  With  this  gift 
man  was  more  than  a  match  for  all  other  animals.  It 
enabled  him  to  make  weapons  wherewith  to  subdue 
them;  tools  with  which  to  cultivate  the  earth;  to  warm 
his  dwelling,  so  as  to  be  comparatively  independent  of 
climate;  and  finally  to  introduce  the  arts  and  to  coin 
money,  the  means  of  trade  and  commerce. 

Woman  was  not  yet  made.  The  story  (absurd 
enough!)  is  that  Jupiter  made  her,  and  sent  her  to 
Prometheus  and  his  brother,  to  punish  them  for  their 
presumption  in  stealing  fire  from  heaven;  and  man, 
for  accepting  the  gift.  The  first  woman  was  named 
Pandora.  She  was  made  in  heaven,  every  god  con- 
tributing something  to  perfect  her.  Venus  gave  her 
beauty,  Mercury  persuasion,  Apollo  music,  etc.  Thus 
equipped,  she  was  conveyed  to  earth,  and  presented  to 
Epimetheus,  who  gladly  accepted  her,  though  cautioned 
by  his  brother  to  beware  of  Jupiter  and  his  gifts, 
Epimetheus  had  in  his  house  a  jar,  in  which  were  kept 
certain  noxious  articles,  for  which,  in  fitting  man  cfor 
his  new  abode,  he  had  had  no  occasion.  Pandora  was 
seized  with  an  eager  curiosity  to  know  what  this  jar 
contained;  and  one  day  she  slipped  off  the  cover  and 
looked  in.  Forthwith  there  escaped  a  multitude  of 


14          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

plagues  for  hapless  man, — such  as  gout,  rheumatism, 
and  colic  for  his  body,  and  envy,  spite,  and  revenge  for 
his  mind, — and  scattered  themselves  far  and  wide. 
Pandora  hastened  to  replace  the  lid !  but,  alas !  the  whole 
contents  of  the  jar  had  escaped,  one  thing  only  ex- 
cepted,  which  lay  at  the  bottom,  and  that  was  hope. 
So  we  see  at  this  day,  whatever  evils  are  abroad,  hope 
never  entirely  leaves  us;  and  while  we  have  that,  no 
amount  of  other  ills  can  make  us  completely  wretched. 

Another  story  is  that  Pandora  was  sent  in  good  faith, 
by  Jupiter,  to  bless  man;  that  she  was  furnished  with 
a  box,  containing  her  marriage  presents,  into  which 
every  god  had  put  some  blessing.  She  opened  the  box 
incautiously,  and  the  blessings  all  escaped,  hope  only  ex- 
cepted.  This  story  seems  more  probable  than  the  for- 
mer; for  how  could  hope,  so  precious  a  jewel  as  it  is, 
have  been  kept  in  a  jar  full  of  all  manner  of  evils,  as 
in  the  former  statement  ? 

The  world  being  thus  furnished  with  inhabitants,  the 
first  age  was  an  age  of  innocence  and  happiness,  called 
the  Golden  Age.  Truth  and  right  prevailed,  though  not 
enforced  by  law,  nor  was  there  any  magistrate  to 
threaten  or  punish.  The  forest  had  not  yet  been  robbed 
of  its  trees  to  furnish  timbers  for  vessels,  nor  had  men 
built  fortifications  round  their  towns.  There  were  no 
such  things  as  swords,  spears,  or  helmets.  The  earth 
brought  forth  all  things  necessary  for  man,  without  his 
labor  in  ploughing  or  sowing.  Perpetual  spring  reigned, 
flowers  sprang  up  without  seed,  the  rivers  flowed  with 
milk  and  wine,  and  yellow  honey  distilled  from  the  oaks. 

Then  succeeded  the  Silver  Age,  inferior  to  the  golden, 
but  better  than  that  of  brass.  Jupiter  shortened  the 
spring,  and  divided  the  year  into  seasons.  Then,  first, 
men  had  to  endure  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  and 
houses  became  necessary.  Caves  were  the  first  dwell- 
ings, and  leafy  coverts  of  the  woods,  and  huts  woven 
of  twigs.  Crops  would  no  longer  grow  without  plant- 
ing. The  farmer  was  obliged  to  sow  the  seed  and  the 
toiling  ox  to  draw  the  plough. 

Next  came  the  Brazen  Age,  more  savage  of  temper, 
and  readier  to  the  strife  of  arms,  yet  not  altogether 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA  15 

wicked.  The  hardest  and  worst  was  the  Iron  Age. 
Crime  burst  in  like  a  flood;  modesty,  truth,  and  honor 
fled.  In  their  places  came  fraud  and  cunning,  violence, 
and  the  wicked  love  of  gain.  Then  seamen  spread  sails 
to  the  wind,  and  the  trees  were  torn  from  the  moun- 
tains to  serve  for  keels  to  ships,  and  vex  the  face  of 
ocean.  The  earth,  which  till  now  had  been  cultivated 
in  common,  began  to  be  divided  off  into  possessions. 
Men  were  not  satisfied  with  what  the  surface  produced, 
but  must  dig  into  its  bowels,  and  draw  forth  from 
thence  the  ores  of  metals.  Mischievous  iron,  and  more 
mischievous  gold,  were  produced.  War  sprang  up, 
using  both  as  weapons;  the  guest  was  not  safe  in  his 
friend's  house ;  and  sons-in-law  and  fathers-in-law, 
brothers  and  sisters,  husbands  and  wives,  could  not  trust 
one  another.  Sons  wished  their  fathers  dead,  that  they 
might  come  to  the  inheritance;  family  love  lay  pros- 
trate. The  earth  was  wet  with  slaughter,  and  the  gods 
abandoned  it,  one  by  one,  till  Astnea1  alone  was  left, 
and  finally  she  also  took  her  departure. 

Jupiter,  seeing  this  state  of  things,  burned  with  anger, 
lie  summoned  the  gods  to  council.  They  obeyed  the 
call,  and  took  the  road  to  the  palace  of  heaven.  The 
road,  which  any  one  may  see  in  a  clear  night,  stretches 
across  the  face  of  the  sky,  and  is  called  the  Milky  Way. 
Along  the  road  stand  the  palaces  of  the  illustrious  gods ; 
the  common  people  of  the  skies  live  apart,  on  either 
side.  Jupiter  addressed  the  assembly.  He  set  forth 
the  frightful  condition  of  things  on  the  earth,  and  closed 
by  announcing  his  intention  to  destroy  the  whole  of  its 
inhabitants,  and  provide  a  new  race,  unlike  the  first, 

1  The  goddess  of  innocence  and  purity.  After  leaving  earth,  she  was 
placed  among  the  stars,  where  she  became  the  constellation  Virgo — the 
Virgin.  Themis  (Justice)  was  the  mother  of  Astraea.  She  is  represented 
as  holding  aloft  a  pair  of  scales,  in  which  she  weighs  the  claims  of  oppos- 
ing parties. 

It  was  a  favorite  idea  of  the  old  poets  that  these  goddesses  woulo 
one  day  return,  and  bring  back  the  Golden  Age.  Even  m  a  Christian 
hymn,  the  "Messiah"  of  Pope,  this  idea  occurs: 

"All  crimes  shall   cease,   and  ancient  fraud  shall  fail, 
Returning  Justice   lift   aloft   her    scale, 
Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend, 
And    white-robed    Innocence    from    heaven    descend." 

Sev!,  also,  Milton's  "Hymn  on  the  Nativity,"  stanzas  xiv.  and  xv. 


16          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

who  would  be  more  worthy  of  life,  and  much  better 
worshippers  of  the  gods.  So  saying  he  took  a  thunder- 
bolt, and  was  about  to  launch  it  at  the  world,  and 
destroy  it  by  burning;  but  recollecting  the  danger  that 
such  a  conflagration  might  set  heaven  itself  on  fire,  he 
changed  his  plan,  and  resolved  to  drown  it.  The  north 
wind,  which  scatters  the  clouds,  was  chained  up;  the 
south  was  sent  out,  and  soon  covered  all  the  face  of 
heaven  with  a  cloak  of  pitchy  darkness.  The  clouds, 
driven  together,  resound  with  a  crash;  torrents  of  rain 
fall;  the  crops  are  laid  low;  the  year's  labor  of  the 
husbandman  perishes  in  an  hour.  Jupiter,  not  satisfied 
with  his  own  waters,  calls  on  his  brother  Neptune  to 
aid  him  with  his.  He  lets  loose  the  rivers,  and  pours 
them  over  the  land.  At  the  same  time,  he  heaves  the 
land  with  an  earthquake,  and  brings  in  the  reflux  of 
the  ocean  over  the  shores.  Flocks,  herds,  men,  and 
houses  are  swept  away,  and  temples,  with  their  sacred 
enclosures,  profaned.  If  any  edifice  remained  stand- 
ing, it  was  overwhelmed,  and  its  turrets  lay  hid  beneath 
the  waves.  Now  all  was  sea,  sea  without  shore.  Here 
and  there  an  individual  remained  on  a  projecting  hill- 
top, and  a  few,  in  boats,  pulled  the  oar  where  they  had 
lately  driven  the  plough.  The  fishes  swim  among  the 
tree-tops ;  the  anchor  is  let  down  into  a  garden.  Where 
the  graceful  lambs  played  but  now,  unwieldy  sea  calves 
gambol.  The  wolf  swims  among  the  sheep,  the  yellow 
lions  and  tigers  struggle  in  the  water.  The  strength 
of  the  wild  boar  serves  him  not,  nor  his  swiftness  the 
stag.  The  birds  fall  with  weary  wing  into  the  water, 
having  found  no  land  for  a  resting-place.  Those  living 
beings  whom  the  water  spared  fell  a  prey  to  hunger. 

Parnassus  alone,  of  all  the  mountains,  overtopped 
the  waves ;  and  there  Deucalion,  and  his  wife  Pyrrha, 
of  the  race  of  Prometheus,  found  refuge — he  a  just 
man,  and  she  a  faithful  worshipper  of  the  gods.  Jupi- 
ter, when  he  saw  none  left  alive  but  this  pair,  and  re- 
membered their  harmless  lives  and  pious  demeanor, 
ordered  the  north  winds  to  drive  away  the  clouds,  and 
disclose  the  skies  to  earth,  and  earth  to  the  skies. 
Neptune  also  directed  Triton  to  blow  on  his  shell,  and 


PROMETHEUS  AND  PANDORA  17 

sound  a  retreat  to  the  waters.  The  waters  obeyed,  and 
the  sea  returned  to  its  shores,  and  the  rivers  to  their 
channels.  Then  Deucalion  thus  addressed  Pyrrha :  "O 
wife,  only  surviving  woman,  joined  to  me  first  by  the 
ties  of  kindred  and  marriage,  and  now  by  a  common 
danger,  would  that  we  possessed  the  power  of  our  an- 
cestor Prometheus,  and  could  renew  the  race  as  he  at 
first  made  it !  But  as  we  cannot,  let  us  seek  yonder 
temple,  and  inquire  of  the  gods  what  remains  for  us  to 
do."  They  entered  the  temple,  deformed  as  it  was  with 
slime,  and  approached  the  altar,  where  no  fire  burned. 
There  they  fell  prostrate  on  the  earth,  and  prayed 
the  goddess  to  inform  them  how  they  might  retrieve 
their  miserable  affairs.  The  oracle  answered,  "Depart 
from  the  temple  with  head  veiled  and  garments  un- 
bound, and  cast  behind  you  the  bones  of  your  mother." 
They  heard  the  words  with  astonishment.  Pyrrha  first 
broke  silence :  "We  cannot  obey ;  we  dare  not  profane 
the  remains  of  our  parents."  They  sought  the  thick- 
est shades  of  the  wood,  and  revolved  the  oracle  in 
their  minds.  At  length  Deucalion  spoke:  "Either  my 
sagacity  deceives  me,  or  the  command  is  one  we  may 
obey  without  impiety.  The  earth  is  the  great  parent 
of  all;  the  stones  are  her  bones;  these  we  may  cast 
behind  us;  and  I  think  this  is  what  the  oracle  means. 
At  least,  it  will  do  no  harm  to  try."  They  veiled  their 
faces,  unbound  their  garments,  and  picked  up  stones, 
and  cast  them  behind  them.  The  stones  (wonderful 
to  relate)  began  to  grow  soft,  and  assume  shape.  By 
degrees,  they  put  on  a  rude  resemblance  to  the  human 
form,  like  a  block  half-finished  in  the  hands  of  the 
sculptor.  The  moisture  and  slime  that  were  about  them 
became  flesh ;  the  stony  part  became  bones ;  the  veins 
remained  veins,  retaining  their  name,  only  changing 
their  use.  Those  thrown  by  the  hand  of  the  man  be- 
came men,  and  those  by  the  woman  became  women. 
It  was  a  hard  race,  and  well  adapted  to  labor,  as  we  find 
ourselves  to  be  at  this  day,  giving  plain  indications  of 
our  origin. 

The  comparison  of  Eve  to  Pandora  is  too  obvious  to 


18          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

have  escaped  Milton,  who  introduces  it  in  Book  IV.  of 
"Paradise  Lost": 

"More  lovely  than  Pandora,  whom  the  gods 
Endowed  with  all  their  gifts;  and  O,  too  like 
In  sad  event,  when  to  the  unwiser  son 
Of  Japhet  brought  by  Hermes,  she  insnared 
Mankind  with  her  fair  looks,  to  be  avenged 
On  him  who  had  stole  Jove's  authentic  fire." 

Prometheus  and  Epimetheus  were  sons  of  lapetus, 
which  Milton  changes  to  Japhet. 

Prometheus  has  been  a  favorite  subject  with  the  poets. 
He  is  represented  as  the  friend  of  mankind,  who  inter- 
posed in  their  behalf  when  Jove  was  incensed  against 
them,  and  who  taught  them  civilization  and  the  arts. 
But  as,  in  so  doing,  he  transgressed  the  will  of  Jupiter, 
he  drew  down  on  himself  the  anger  of  the  ruler  of 
gods  and  men.  Jupiter  had  him  chained  to  a  rock  on 
Mount  Caucasus,  where  a  vulture  preyed  on  his  liver, 
which  was  renewed  as  fast  as  devoured.  This  state 
of  torment  might  have  been  brought  to  an  end  at  any 
time  by  Prometheus,  if  he  had  been  willing  to  submit 
to  his  oppressor;  for  he  possessed  a  secret  which  in- 
volved the  stability  of  Jove's  throne,  and  if  he  would 
have  revealed  it,  he  might  have  been  at  once  taken  into 
favor.  But  that  he  disdained  to  do.  He  has  there- 
fore become  the  symbol  of  magnanimous  endurance  of 
unmerited  suffering,  and  strength  of  will  resisting  op- 
pression. 

Byron  and  Shelley  have  both  treated  this  theme.  The 
following  are  Byron's  lines : 

"Titan!  to  whose  immortal  2yes 
The  sufferings  of  mortality, 
Seen  in  their  sad  reality, 
Were  not  as  things  that  gods  despise; 
What  was  thy  pity's  recompense? 
A  silent  suffering,  and  intense; 
The  rock,  the  vulture,  and  the  chain; 
All  that  the  proud  can  feel  of  pain; 
The  agony  they  do  not  show; 
The  suffocating  sense  of  woe. 


APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE  19 

"Thy  godlike  crime  was  to  be  kind; 

To  render  with  thy  precepts  less 

The  sum  of  human  wretchedness, 
And  strengthen  man  with  his  own  mind. 

And,  baffled  as  thou  wert  from  high, 

Still,  in  thy  patient  energy 
In  the  endurance  and  repulse 

Of  thine  impenetrable  spirit, 
Which  earth  and  heaven  could  not  convulse, 

A  mighty  lesson  we  inherit." 

Byron   also  employs   the   same   allusion,   in   his   "Ode 
to  Napoleon  Bonaparte" : 

"Or,  like  the  thief  of  fire  from  heaven, 

Wilt  thou  withstand  the  shock? 
And  share  with  him — the  un forgiven — 
His  vulture  and  his  rock?" 


CHAPTER    III 

APOLLO    AND   DAPHNE PYRAMUS    AND    TIIISBE 

CEPIIALUS    AND    PROCRIS 

THE  slime  with  which  the  earth  was  covered  by  the 
waters  of  the  flood  produced  an  excessive  fertility, 
which  called  forth  every  variety  of  production,  both  bad 
and  good.  Among  the  rest,  Python,  an  enormous  ser- 
pent, crept  forth,  the  terror  of  the  people,  and  lurked 
in  the  caves  of  Mount  Parnassus.  Apollo  slew  him 
with  his  arrows — weapons  which  he  had  not  before 
used  against  any  but  feeble  animals,  hares,  wild  goats, 
and  such  game.  In  commemoration  of  this  illustrious 
conquest  he  instituted  the  Pythian  games,  in  which  the 
victor  in  feats  of  strength,  swiftness  of  foot,  or  in  the 
chariot  race  was  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  beech 
leaves;  for  the  laurel  was  not  yet  adopted  by  Apollo 
as  his  own  tree. 

The  famous  statue  of  Apollo  called  the  Belvedere 
represents  the  god  after  this  victory  over  the  serpent 
Pvthon.  To  this  Byron  alludes  in  his  "Childe  Harold," 


20         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

"...    The  lord  of  the  unerring  bow, 
The  god  of  life,  and  poetry,  and  light, 
The  Sun,  in  human  limbs  arrayed,  and  brow 
All  radiant  from  his  triumph  in  the  fight. 
The  shaft  has  just  been  shot;  the  arrow  bright 
With  an  immortal's  vengeance;  in  his  eye 
And  nostril,  beautiful  disdain,  and  might 
And  majesty  flash  their  full  lightnings  by, 
Developing  in  that  one  glance  the  Deity." 


APOLLO    AND    DAPHNE 

Daphne  was  Apollo's  first  love.  It  was  not  brought 
about  by  accident,  but  by  the  malice  of  Cupid.  Apollo 
saw  the  boy  playing  with  his  bow  and  arrows;  and 
being  himself  elated  with  his  recent  victory  over  Python, 
he  said  to  him,  "What  have  you  to  do  with  warlike 
weapons,  saucy  boy?  Leave  them  for  hands  worthy 
of  them.  Behold  the  conquest  I  have  won  by  means 
of  them  over  the  vast  serpent  who  stretched  his 
poisonous  body  over  acres  of  the  plain !  Be  content 
with  your  torch,  child,  and  kindle  up  your  flames,  as 
you  call  them,  where  you  will,  but  presume  not  to 
meddle  with  my  weapons."  Venus's  boy  heard  these 
words,  and  rejoined,  "Your  arrows  may  strike  all  things 
else,  Apollo,  but  mine  shall  strike  you."  So  saying, 
he  took  his  stand  on  a  rock  of  Parnassus,  and  drew 
from  his  quiver  two  arrows  of  different  workmanship, 
one  to  excite  love,  the  other  to  repel  it.  The  former 
was  of  gold  and  sharp  pointed,  the  latter  blunt  and 
tipped  with  lead.  With  the  leaden  shaft  he  struck  the 
nymph  Daphne,  the  daughter  of  the  river  god  Peneus, 
and  with  the  golden  one  Apollo,  through  the  heart. 
Forthwith  the  god  was  seized  with  love  for  the  maiden, 
and  she  abhorred  the  thought  of  loving.  Her  delight 
was  in  woodland  sports  and  in  the  spoils  of  the  chase. 
Many  lovers  sought  her,  but  she  spurned  them  all, 
ranging  the  woods,  and  taking  no  thought  of  Cupid  nor 
of  Hymen.  Her  father  often  said  to  her,  "Daughter, 
you  owe  me  a  son-in-law;  you  owe  me  grandchildren." 
She,  hating  the  thought  of  marriage  as  a  crime,  with 
her  beautiful  face  tinged  all  over  with  blushes,  threw 
Ser  arms  around  her  father's  neck,  and  said,  "Dearest 


APOLLO  AND  DAPHNE  21 

father,  grant  me  this  favor,  that  I  may  always  remain 
unmarried,  like  Diana."  He  consented,  but  at  the  same 
time  said,  "Your  own  face  will  forbid  it." 

Apollo  loved  her,  and  longed  to  obtain  her;  and  he 
who  gives  oracles  to  all  the  world  was  not  wise  enough 
to  look  into  his  own  fortunes.  He  saw  her  hair 
flung  loose  over  her  shoulders,  and  said,  "If  so  charm- 
ing in  disorder,  what  would  it  be  if  arranged  ?"  He 
saw  her  eyes  bright  as  stars;  he  saw  her  lips,  and 
was  not  satisfied  with  only  seeing  them.  He  admired 
her  hands  and  arms,  naked  to  the  shoulder,  and  what- 
ever was  hidden  from  view  he  imagined  more  beau- 
tiful still.  He  followed  her;  she  fled,  swifter  than 
the  wind,  and  delayed  not  a  moment  at  his  entreaties. 
"Stay,"  said  he,  "daughter  of  Peneus;  I  am  not  a  foe. 
Do  not  fly  me  as  a  lamb  flies  the  wolf,  or  a  dove 
the  hawk.  It  is  for  love  I  pursue  you.  You  make 
me  miserable,  for  fear  you  should  fall  and  hurt  your- 
self on  these  stones,  and  I  should  be  the  cause.  Pray 
run  slower,  and  I  will  follow  slower.  I  am  no  clown, 
no  rude  peasant.  Jupiter  is  my  father,  and  I  am  lord 
of  Delphos  and  Tenedos,  and  know  all  things,  present 
and  future.  I  am  the  god  of  song  and  the  lyre.  My 
arrows  fly  true  to  the  mark ;  but,  alas !  an  arrow  more 
fatal  than  mine  has  pierced  my  heart !  I  am  the  god 
of  medicine,  and  know  the  virtues  of  all  healing  plants. 
Alas !  I  suffer  a  malady  that  no  balm  can  cure ! 

The  nymph  continued  her  flight,  and  left  his  plea 
half  uttered.  And  even  as  she  fled  she  charmed  him. 
The  wind  blew  her  garments,  and  her  unbound  hair 
streamed  loose  behind  her.  The  god  grew  impatient 
to  find  his  wooings  thrown  away,  and,  sped  by  Cupid, 
gained  upon  her  in  the  race.  It  was  like  a  hound 
pursuing  a  hare,  with  open  jaws  ready  to  seize,  while 
the  feebler  animal  darts  forward,  slipping  from  the  very 
grasp.  So  flew  the  god  and  the  virgin — he  on  the  wings 
of  love,  and  she  on  those  of  fear.  The  pursuer  is  the 
more  rapid,  however,  and  gains  upon  her,  and  his  pant- 
ing breath  blows  upon  her  hair.  Her  strength  begins 
to  fail,  and,  ready  to  sink,  she  calls  upon  her  father, 
the  river  god:  "Help  me,  Peneus!  open  the  earth  to  en- 


22          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

close  me,  or  change  my  form,  which  has  brought  me 
into  this  danger!"  Scarcely  had  she  spoken,  when  a 
stiffness  seized  all  her  limbs;  her  bosom  began  to  be 
enclosed  in  a  tender  bark ;  her  hair  became  leaves ;  her 
arms  became  branches ;  her  foot  stuck  fast  in  the 
ground,  as  a  root;  her  fac~  became  a  tree-top,  retain- 
ing nothing  of  its  former  self  but  its  beauty.  Apollo 
stood  amazed.  He  touched  the  stem,  and  felt  the  flesh 
tremble  under  the  new  bark.  He  embraced  the  branches, 
and  lavished  kisses  on  the  wood.  The  branches  shrank 
from  his  lips.  "Since  you  cannot  be  my  wife,"  said 
he,  "you  shall  assuredly  be  my  tree.  I  will  wear  you 
for  my  crown ;  I  will  decorate  with  you  my  harp  and 
my  quiver;  and  when  the  great  Roman  conquerors 
lead  up  the  triumphal  pomp  to  the  Capitol,  you  shall 
be  woven  into  wreaths  for  their  brows.  And,  as  eternal 
youth  is  mine,  you  also  shall  be  always  green,  and  your 
leaf  know  no  decay/'  The  nymph,  now  changed  into  a 
Laurel  tree,  bowed  its  head  in  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment. 

That  Apollo  should  be  the  god  both  of  music  and 
poetry  will  not  appear  strange,  but  that  medicine  should 
also  be  assigned  to  his  province,  may.  The  poet  Arm- 
strong, himself  a  physician,  thus  accounts  for  it: 

"Music  exalts  each  joy,  allays  each  grief, 
Expels  diseases,  softens  every  pain ; 
And    hence    the   wise    of    ancient    days    adored 
One  power  of  physic,  melody,  and  song." 

The  story  of  Apollo  and  Daphne  is  often  alluded  to 
by  the  poets.  Waller  applies  it  to  the  case  of  one 
whose  amatory  verses,  though  they  did  not  soften  the 
heart  of  his  mistress,  yet  won  for  the  poet  wide-spread 
fame : 

"Yet  what  he  sung  in  his  immortal  strain, 
Though  unsuccessful,  was  not  sung  in  vain 
All  but  the  nymph  that  should  redress  his  wrong, 
Attend  his  passion  and  approve  hit   song 
Like  Phoebus  thus,  acquiring  unsought  praise, 
He  caught  at  love  and  filled  his  arms  with  bays." 


PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE  23 

The   following  stanza    from   Shelley's   "Adonais"   al- 
ludes to  Byron's  early  quarrel  with  the  reviewers: 

"The  herded  wolves,  hold  only  to  pursue; 
The  obscene  ravens,  clamorous  o'er  the  dead; 
The  vultures,  to  the  conqueror's  banner  true, 
Who   feed  where   Desolation   first  has   fed, 
And  \vhose  wings  rain  contagion  :  how  they  fled, 
When  like  Apollo,  from  his  golden  bow, 
The  Pythian  of  the  age  one  arrow  sped 
And  smiled !     The  spoilers  tempt  no  second  blow ; 
They  fawn  on  the  proud  feet  that  spurn  them  as  they  go." 


PYRAMUS   AND   TIIISBE 

Pyramus  was  the  handsomest  youth,  and  Thisbe  the 
fairest  maiden,  in  all  Babylonia,  where  Semiramis 
reigned.  Their  parents  occupied  adjoining  houses;  and 
neighborhood  brought  the  young  people  together,  and 
acquaintance  ripened  into  love.  They  would  gladly 
have  married,  but  their  parents  forbade.  One  thing, 
however,  they  could  not  forbid — that  love  should  glow 
with  equal  ardor  in  the  bosoms  of  both.  They  con- 
versed by  signs  and  glances,  and  the  fire  burned  more 
intensely  for  being  covered  up.  In  the  wall  that  parted 
the  two  houses  there  was  a  crack,  caused  by  some  fault 
in  the  structure.  No  one  had  remarked  it  before,  but 
the  lovers  discovered  it.  What  will  not  love  discover! 
It  afforded  a  passage  to  the  voice;  and  tender  mes- 
sages used  to  pass  backward  and  forward  through  the 
gap.  As  they  stood,  Pyramus  on  this  side,  Thisbe  on 
that,  their  breaths  would  mingle.  "Cruel  wall,"  they 
said,  "why  do  you  keep  two  lovers  apart?  But  we 
will  not  be  ungrateful.  We  owe  you,  we  confess,  the 
privilege  of  transmitting  loving  words  to  willing  ears." 
Such  words  they  uttered  on  different  sides  of  the  wall ; 
and  when  night  came  and  they  must  say  farewell,  they 
pressed  their  lips  upon  the  wall,  she  on  her  side,  he 
on  his,  as  they  could  come  no  nearer. 

Next  morning,  when  Aurora  had  put  out  the  stars, 
and  the  sun  had  melted  the  frost  from  the  grass,  they 
met  at  the  accustomed  spot.  Then,  after  lamenting 
their  hard  fate,  they  agreed  that  next  night,  when  all 


24          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

was  still,  they  would  slip  away  from  watchful  eyes, 
leave  their  dwellings  and  walk  out  into  the  fields;  and 
to  insure  a  meeting,  repair  to  a  well-known  edifice 
standing  without  the  city's  bounds,  called  the  Tomb  of 
Ninus,  and  that  the  one  who  came  first  should  await 
the  other  at  the  foot  of  a  certain  tree.  It  was  a  white 
mulberry  tree,  and  stood  near  a  cool  spring.  All  was 
agreed  on,  and  they  waited  impatiently  for  the  sun  to 
go  down  beneath  the  waters  and  night  to  rise  up  from 
them.  Then  cautiously  Thisbe  stole  forth,  unobserved 
by  the  family,  her  head  covered  with  a  veil,  made  her 
way  to  the  monument  and  sat  down  under  the  tree. 
As  she  sat  alone  in  the  dim  light  of  the  evening  she 
descried  a  lioness,  her  jaws  reeking  with  recent  slaugh- 
ter, approaching  the  fountain  to  slake  her  thirst.  Thisbe 
fled  at  the  sight,  and  sought  refuge  in  the  hollow  of 
a  rock.  As  she  fled  she  dropped  her  veil.  The  lioness 
after  drinking  at  the  spring  turned  to  retreat  to  the 
woods,  and  seeing  the  veil  on  the  ground,  tossed  and 
rent  it  with  her  bloody  mouth. 

Pyramus,  having  been  delayed,  now  approached  the 
place  of  meeting.  He  saw  in  the  sand  the  footsteps 
of  the  lion,  and  the  color  fled  from  his  cheeks  at  the 
sight.  Presently  he  found  the  veil  all  rent  and  bloody. 
"O  hapless  girl/'  said  he,  "I  have  been  the  cause  of 
thy  death!  Thou,  more  worthy  of  life  than  I,  hast 
fallen  the  first  victim.  I  will  follow.  I  am  the  guilty 
cause,  in  tempting  thee  forth  to  a  place  of  such  peril, 
and  not  being  myself  on  the  spot  to  guard  thee.  Come 
forth,  ye  lions,  from  the  rocks,  and  tear  this  guilty  body 
with  your  teeth."  He  took  up  the  veil,  carried  it  with 
him  to  the  appointed  tree,  and  covered  it  with  kisses 
and  with  tears.  uMy  blood  also  shall  stain  your  tex- 
ture," said  he,  and  drawing  his  sword  plunged  it  into 
his  heart.  The  blood  spurted  from  the  wound,  and 
tinged  the  white  mulberries  of  the  tree  all  red;  and 
sinking  into  the  earth  reached  the  roots,  so  that  the 
red  color  mounted  through  the  trunk  to  the  fruit. 

By  this  time  Thisbe,  still  trembling  with  fear,  yet 
wishing  not  to  disappoint  her  lover,  stepped  cautiously 
forth,  looking  anxiously  for  the  youth,  eager  to  tell  him 


PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE  25 

the  danger  she  had  escaped.  When  she  came  to  the 
spot  and  saw  the  changed  color  of  the  mulberries  she 
doubted  whether  it  was  the  same  place.  While  she 
hesitated  she  saw  the  form  of  one  struggling  in  the 
agonies  of  death.  She  started  back,  a  shudder  ran 
through  her  frame  as  a  ripple  on  the  face  of  the  still 
water  when  a  sudden  breeze  sweeps  over  it.  But  as 
soon  as  she  recognized  her  lover,  she  screamed  and 
beat  her  breast,  embracing  the  lifeless  body,  pouring 
tears  into  its  wounds,  and  imprinting  kisses  on  the  cold 
lips.  "O  Pyramus,"  she  cried,  "what  has  done  this? 
Answer  me,  Pyramus ;  it  is  your  own  Thisbe  that  speaks. 
Hear  me,  dearest,  and  lift  that  drooping  head !"  At 
the  name  of  Thisbe  Pyramus  opened  his  eyes,  then 
closed  them  again.  She  saw  her  veil  stained  with  blood 
and  the  scabbard  empty  of  its  sword.  "Thy  own  hand 
has  slain  thee,  and  for  my  sake,"  she  said.  "I  too  can 
be  brave  for  once,  and  my  love  is  as  strong  as  thine. 
I  will  follow  thee  in  death,  for  I  have  been  the  cause; 
and  death  which  alone  could  part  us  shall  not  prevent 
my  joining  thee.  And  ye,  unhappy  parents  of  us  both, 
deny  us  not  our  united  request.  As  love  and  death  have 
joined  us,  let  one  tomb  contain  us.  And  thou,  tree, 
retain  the  marks  of  slaughter.  Let  thy  berries  still  serve 
for  memorials  of  our  blood."  So  saying  she  plunged 
the  sword  into  her  breast.  Her  parents  ratified  her 
wish,  the  gods  also  ratified  it.  The  two  bodies  were 
buried  in  one  sepulchre,  and  the  tree  ever  after  brought 
forth  purple  berries,  as  it  does  to  this  day. 

Moore,  in  the  "Sylph's  Ball,"  speaking  of  Davy's 
Safety  Lamp,  is  reminded  of  the  wall  that  separated 
Thisbe  and  her  lover: 

"O  for  that  Lamp's  metallic  gauze, 
That  curtain  of  protectir  j  wire, 
Which  Davy  delicately  draws 
Around   illicit,   dangerous   fire! 

The  wall  he  sets  'twixt  Flame  and  Air, 

(Like  that  which  barred  young  Thisbe' s  bliss,) 

Through  whose  small  holes  this  dangerous  pair 
May  see  each  other,  but  not  kiss." 


26          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

In  Mickle's  translation  of  the  "Lusiad"  occurs  the 
following  allusion  to  the  story  of  Pyramus  and  Thisbe, 
and  the  metamorphosis  of  the  mulberries.  The  poet  is 
describing  the  Island  of  Love : 

".  .  .  here  each   gift   Pomona's  hand  bestows 
In   cultured  garden,    free  uncultured   flows, 
The  flavor  sweeter  and  the  hue  more  fair 
Than  e'er  was   fostered  by  the  hand  of  care. 
The  cherry  here  in  shining  crimson  glows, 
And  stained  with  lovers'  blood,  in  pendent  rows, 
The  mulberries  o'erload  the  bending   boughs." 

If  any  of  our  young  readers  can  be  so  hard-hearted 
as  to  enjoy  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  poor  Pyramus 
and  Thisbe,  they  may  find  an  opportunity  by  turning 
to  Shakspeare's  play  of  the  "Midsummer  Night's 
Dream,"  where  it  is  most  amusingly  burlesqued. 

CEPIIALUS    AND    PKOCRIS 

Cephalus  was  a  beautiful  youth  and  fond  of  manly 
sports.  He  would  rise  before  the  dawn  to  pursue  the 
chase.  Aurora  saw  him  when  she  first  looked  forth, 
fell  in  love  with  him,  and  stole  him  away.  But  Cephalus 
was  just  married  to  a  charming  wife  whom  he  devotedly 
loved.  Her  name  was  Procris.  She  was  a  favorite 
of  Diana,  the  goddess  of  hunting,  who  had  given  her 
a  dog  which  could  outrun  every  rival,  and  a  javelin 
which  would  never  fail  of  its  mark ;  and  Procris  gave 
these  presents  to  her  husband.  Cephalus  was  so  happy 
in  his  wife  that  he  resisted  all  the  entreaties  of  Aurora, 
and  she  finally  dismissed  him  in  displeasure,  saying, 
"Go,  ungrateful  mortal,  keep  your  wife,  whom,  if  I  am 
not  much  mistaken,  you  will  one  day  be  very  sorry  you 
ever  saw  again." 

Cephalus  returned,  and  was  as  happy  as  ever  in  his 
wife  and  his  woodland  sports.  Now  it  happened  some 
angry  deity  had  sent  a  ravenous  fox  to  annoy  the  coun« 
try;  and  the  hunters  turned  out  in  great  strength  to 
capture  it.  Their  efforts  were  all  in  vain;  no  dog  could 
run  it  down;  and  at  last  they  came  to  Cephalus  to  bor- 
row his  famous  dog,  whose  name  was  Lelaps.  No 


CEPHALUS  AND  PROCRIS  27 

sooner  was  the  dog  let  loose  than  he  darted  off,  quicker 
than  their  eye  could  follow  him.  If  they  had  not  seen 
his  footprints  in  the  sand  they  would  have  thought  he 
flew.  Cephalus  and  others  stood  on  a  hill  and  saw  the 
race.  The  fox  tried  every  art;  he  ran  in  a  circle  and 
turned  on  his  track,  the  dog  close  upon  him,  with  open 
jaws,  snapping  at  his  heels,  but  biting  only  the  air. 
Cephalus  was  about  to  use  his  javelin,  when  suddenly  he 
saw  both  dog  and  game  stop  instantly.  The  heavenly 
powers  who  had  given  both  were  not  willing  that  either 
should  conquer.  In  the  very  attitude  of  life  and  action 
they  were  turned  into  stone.  So  lifelike  and  natural  did 
they  look,  you  would  have  thought,  as  you  looked  at 
them,  that  one  was  going  to  bark,  the  other  to  leap  for- 
ward. 

Cephalus,  though  he  had  lost  his  dog,  still  contin- 
ued to  take  delight  in  the  chase.  lie  would  go  out  at 
early  morning,  ranging  the  woods  and  hills  unaccom- 
panied by  any  one,  needing  no  help,  for  his  javelin  was  a 
sure  weapon  in  all  cases.  Fatigued  with  hunting,  when 
the  sun  got  high  he  would  seek  a  shady  nook  where  a 
cool  stream  flowed,  and,  stretched  on  the  grass,  with  his 
garments  thrown  aside,  would  enjoy  the  breeze.  Some- 
times he  would  say  aloud,  "Come,  sweet  breeze,  come 
and  fan  my  breast,  come  and  allay  the  heat  that  burns 
me."  Some  one  passing  by  one  day  heard  him  talking  in 
this  way  to  the  air,  and,  foolishly  believing  that  he  was 
talking  to  some  maiden,  went  and  told  the  secret  to 
Procris,  Cephalus's  wife.  Love  is  credulous.  Procris, 
at  the  sudden  shock,  fainted  away.  Presently  re- 
covering, she  said,  "It  cannot  be  true ;  I  will  not  be- 
lieve it  unless  I  myself  am  a  witness  to  it."  So  she 
waited,  with  anxious  heart,  till  the  next  morning,  when 
Cephalus  went  to  hunt  as  usual.  Then  she  stole  out 
after  him,  and  concealed  herself  in  the  place  where  the 
informer  directed  her.  Cephalus  came  as  he  was  wont 
when  tired  with  sport,  and  stretched  himself  on  the 

freen   bank,   saying,    "Come,   sweet   breeze,   come   and 
an  me ;  you  know  how  I  love  you !  you  make  the  groves 
and  my  solitary  rambles  delightful."     He  was  running 
on  in  this  way  when  he  heard,  or  thought  he  heard,  a 


28         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

sound  as  of  a  sob  in  the  bushes.  Supposing  it  some 
wild  animal,  he  threw  his  javelin  at  the  spot.  A  cry 
from  his  beloved  Procris  told  him  that  the  weapon  had 
too  surely  met  its  mark.  He  rushed  to  the  place,  and 
found  her  bleeding,  and  with  sinking  strength  endeav- 
oring to  draw  forth  from  the  wound  the  javelin,  her 
own  gift.  Cephalus  raised  her  from  the  earth,  strove 
to  stanch  the  blood,  and  called  her  to  revive  and  not  to 
leave  him  miserable,  to  reproach  himself  with  her  death. 
She  opened  her  feeble  eyes,  and  forced  herself  to  utter 
these  few  words :  "I  implore  you,  if  you  have  ever  loved 
me,  if  I  have  ever  deserved  kindness  at  your  hands,  my 
husband,  grant  me  this  last  request;  do  not  marry  that 
odious  Breeze  !"  This  disclosed  the  whole  mystery :  but 
alas !  what  advantage  to  disclose  it  now  !  She  died ;  but 
her  face  wore  a  calm  expression,  and  she  looked  pity- 
ingly and  forgivingly  on  her  husband  when  he  made  her 
understand  the  truth. 

Moore,    in    his    "Legendary    Ballads,"    has    one    on 
Cephalus  and  Procris,  beginning  thus: 

"A  hunter  once  in  a  grove  reclined, 

To  shun  the  noon's  bright  eye, 
And  oft  he  wooed  the  wandering  wind 

To  cool  his  brow  with  its  sigh. 
While  mute  lay  even  the  wild  bee's  hum, 

Nor  breath  could  stir  the  aspen's  hair, 
His  song  was  still,  'Sweet  Air,  O  come!' 

While  Echo  answered,   'Come,  sweet  Air!'" 


CHAPTER  IV 

JUNO    AND    HER    RIVALS,    IO    AND    CALLISTO — DIANA    AND 
ACTION — LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS 

JUNO  one  day  perceived  it  suddenly  grow  dark,  and 
immediately  suspected  that  her  husband  had  raised  a 
cloud  to  hide  some  of  his  doings  that  would  not  bear 
the  light.  She  brushed  away  the  cloud,  and  saw  her 
husband  on  the  banks  of  a  glassy  river,  with  a  beautiful 


JUNO  AND  HER  RIVALS  29 

heifer  standing  near  him.  Juno  suspected  the  heifer's 
form  concealed  some  fair  nymph  of  mortal  mould — as 
was,  indeed  the  case;  for  it  was  lo,  the  daughter  of 
the  river  god  Inachus,  whom  Jupiter  had  been  flirting 
with,  and,  when  he  became  aware  of  the  approach  of  his 
wife,  had  changed  into  that  form. 

Juno  joined  her  husband,  and  noticing  the  heifer 
praised  its  beauty,  and  asked  whose  it  was,  and  of  what 
herd.  Jupiter,  to  stop  questions,  replied  that  it  was  a 
fresh  creation  from  the  earth.  Juno  asked  to  have  it  as 
a  gift.  What  could  Jupiter  do?  He  was  loath  to  give 
his  mistress  to  his  wife;  yet  how  refuse  so  trifling 
a  present  as  a  simple  heifer?  He  could  not,  without 
exciting  suspicion;  so  he  consented.  The  goddess  was 
not  yet  relieved  of  her  suspicions ;  so  she  delivered  the 
heifer  to  Argus,  to  be  strictly  watched. 

Now  Argus  had  a  hundred  eyes  in  his  head,  and  never 
went  to  sleep  with  more  than  two  at  a  time,  so  that  he 
kept  watch  of  lo  constantly.  He  suffered  her  to  feed 
through  the  day,  and  at  night  tied  her  up  with  a  vile 
rope  round  her  neck.  She  would  have  stretched  out  her 
arms  to  implore  freedom  of  Argus,  but  she  had  no  arms 
to  stretch  out,  and  her  voice  was  a  bellow  that  fright- 
ened even  herself.  She  saw  her  father  and  her  sisters, 
went  near  them,  and  suffered  them  to  pat  her  back,  and 
heard  them  admire  her  beauty.  Her  father  reached  her 
a  tuft  of  grass,  and  she  licked  the  outstretched  hand. 
She  longed  to  make  herself  known  to  him,  and  would 
have  uttered  her  wish ;  but,  alas !  words  were  wanting. 
At  length  she  bethought  herself  of  writing,  and  inscribed 
her  name — it  was  a  short  one — with  her  hoof  on  the 
sand.  Inachus  recognized  it,  and  discovering  that  his 
daughter,  whom  he  had  long  sought  in  vain,  was  hidden 
under  this  disguise,  mourned  over  her,  and,  embracing 
her  white  neck,  exclaimed,  "Alas!  my  daughter,  it  would 
have  been  a  less  grief  to  have  lost  you  altogether!" 
While  he  thus  lamented,  Argus,  observing,  came  and 
drove  her  away,  and  took  his  seat  on  a  high  bank,  from 
whence  he  could  see  all  around  in  every  direction. 

Jupiter  was  troubled  at  beholding  the  sufferings  of  his 
mistress,  and  calling  Mercury  told  him  to  go  and  despatch 


30          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Argus.  Mercury  made  haste,  put  his  winged  slippers  on 
his  feet,  and  cap  on  his  head,  took  his  sleep-producing 
wand,  and  leaped  down  from  the  heavenly  towers  to  the 
earth.  There  he  laid  aside  his  wings,  and  kept  only  his 
wand,  with  which  he  presented  himself  as  a  shepherd 
driving  his  flock.  As  he  strolled  on  he  blew  upon  his 
pipes.  These  were  what  are  called  the  Syrinx  or  Pandean 
pipes.  Argus  listened  with  delight,  for  he  had  never  seen 
the  instrument  before.  "Young  man,"  said  he,  "come 
and  take  a  seat  by  me  on  this  stone.  There  is  no  better 
place  for  your  flocks  to  graze  in  than  hereabouts,  and 
here  is  a  pleasant  shade  such  as  shepherds  love."  Mercury 
sat  down,  talked,  and  told  stories  till  it  grew  late,  and 
played  upon  his  pipes  his  most  soothing  strains,  hoping 
to  lull  the  watchful  eyes  to  sleep,  but  all  in  vain ;  for 
Argus  still  contrived  to  keep  some  of  his  eyes  open 
though  he  shut  the  rest. 

Among  other  stories,  Mercury  told  him  how  the  instru- 
ment on  which  he  played  was  invented.  "There  was  a 
certain  nymph,  whose  name  was  Syrinx,  who  was  much 
beloved  by  the  satyrs  and  spirits  of  the  wood ;  but  she 
would  have  none  of  them,  but  was  a  faithful  worshipper 
of  Diana,  and  followed  the  chase.  You  would  have 
thought  it  was  Diana  herself,  had  you  seen  her  in  her 
hunting  dress,  only  that  her  bow  was  of  horn  and  Diana's 
of  silver.  One  day,  as  she  was  returning  from  the  chase, 
Pan  met  her,  told  her  just  this,  and  added  more  of  the 
same  sort.  She  ran  away,  without  stopping  to  hear  his 
compliments,  and  he  pursued  till  she  came  to  the  bank  of 
the  river,  where  he  overtook  her,  and  she  had  only  time  to 
call  for  help  on  her  friends  the  water  nymphs.  They 
heard  and  consented.  Pan  threw  his  arms  around  what 
he  supposed  to  be  the  form  of  the  nymph,  and  found  he 
embraced  only  a  tuft  of  reeds'.  As  he  breathed  a  sigh, 
the  air  sounded  through  the  reeds,  and  produced  a  plain- 
tive melody.  The  god,  charmed  with  the  novelty  and  with 
the  sweetness  of  the  music,  said,  Thus,  then,  at  least, 
you  shall  be  mine/  And  he  took  some  of  the  reeds,  and 
placing  them  together,  of  unequal  lengths,  side  by  side, 
made  an  instrument  which  he  called  Syrinx,  in  honor  of 
the  nymph."  Before  Mercury  had  finished  his  story  he 


CALLISTO  31 

saw  Argus's  eyes  all  asleep.  As  his  head  nodded  forward 
on  his  breast,  Mercury  with  one  stroke  cut  his  neck 
through,  and  tumbled  his  head  down  the  rocks.  O  hap- 
less Argus!  the  light  of  your  hundred  eyes  is  quenched 
at  once!  Juno  took  them  and  put  them  as  ornaments 
on  the  tail  of  her  peacock,  where  they  remain  to  this  day. 
But  the  vengeance  of  Juno  was  not  yet  satiated.  She 
sent  a  gadfly  to  torment  lo,  who  fled  over  the  whole 
world  from  its  pursuit.  She  swam  through  the  Ionian 
sea,  which  derived  its  name  from  her,  then  roamed  over 
the  plains  of  Illyria,  ascended  Mount  Ilsemus,  and  crossed 
the  Thracian  strait,  thence  named  the  Bosphorus  (cow- 
ford),  rambled  on  through  Scythia,  and  the  country  of 
the  Cimmerians,  and  arrived  at  last  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile.  At  length  Jupiter  interceded  for  her,  and  upon 
his  promising  not  to  pay  her  any  more  attentions  Juno 
consented  to  restore  her  to  her  form.  It  was  curious  to 
see  her  gradually  recover  her  former  self.  The  coarse 
hairs  fell  from  her  body,  her  horns  shrank  up,  her  eyes 
grew  narrower,  her  mouth  shorter ;  hands  and  fingers 
came  instead  of  hoofs  to  her  forefeet ;  in  fine  there  was 
nothing  left  of  the  heifer,  except  her  beauty.  At  first  she 
was  afraid  to  speak,  for  fear  she  should  low,  but  grad- 
ually she  recovered  her  confidence  and  was  restored  to 
her  father  and  sisters. 

In  a  poem  dedicated  to  Leigh  Hunt,  by  Keats,  the  fol- 
lowing allusion  to  the  story  of  Pan  and  Syrinx  occurs : 

"So  did  he  feel  who  pulled  the  bough  aside, 
That  we  might  look  into  a  forest  wide, 

Telling  us  how  fair  trembling  Syrinx  fled 
Arcadian    Pan,    with   such   a    fearful    dread. 
Poor  nymph — poor  Pan — how  he  did  weep  to  find 
Nought  but  a  lovely  sighing  of  the  wind 
Along  the  reedy  stream;  a  half-heard  strain, 
Full  of  sweet  desolation,  balmy  pain." 

CALLISTO 

Callisto  was  another  maiden  who  excited  the  jealousy 
of  Juno,  and  the  goddess  changed  her  into  a  bear.     "I 


32          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

will  take  away,"  said  she,  "that  beauty  with  which  you 
have  captivated  my  husband."  Down  fell  Callisto  on  her 
hands  and  knees ;  she  tried  to  stretch  out  her  arms  in 
supplication — they  were  already  beginning  to  be  covered 
with  black  hair.  Her  hands  grew  rounded,  became  armed 
with  crooked  claws,  and  served  for  feet ;  her  mouth, 
which  Jove  used  to  praise  for  its  beauty,  became  a  horrid 
pair  of  jaws ;  her  voice,  which  if  unchanged  would  have 
moved  the  heart  to  pity,  became  a  growl,  more  fit  to 
inspire  terror.  Yet  her  former  disposition  remained, 
and  with  continual  groaning,  she  bemoaned  her  fate,  and 
stood  upright  as  well  as  she  could,  lifting  up  her  paws 
to  beg  for  mercy,  and  felt  that  Jove  was  unkind,  though 
she  could  not  tell  him  so.  Ah,  how  often,  afraid  to  stay 
in  the  woods  all  night  alone,  she  wandered  about  the 
neighborhood  of  her  former  haunts ;  how  often,  fright- 
ened by  the  dogs,  did  she,  so  lately  a  huntress,  fly  in 
terror  from  the  hunters !  Often  she  fled  from  the  wild 
beasts,  forgetting  that  she  was  now  a  wild  beast  herself ; 
and,  bear  as  she  was,  was  afraid  of  the  bears. 

One  day  a  youth  espied  her  as  he  wras  hunting.  She 
saw  him  and  recognized  him  as  her  own  son,  now  grown 
a  young  man.  She  stopped  and  felt  inclined  to  embrace 
him.  As  she  was  about  to  approach,  he,  alarmed,  raised 
his  hunting  spear,  and  was  on  the  point  of  transfixing 
her,  when  Jupiter,  beholding,  arrested  the  crime,  and 
snatching  away  both  of  them,  placed  them  in  the  heavens 
as  the  Great  and  Little  Bear. 

Juno  was  in  a  rage  to  see  her  rival  so  set  in  honor,  and 
hastened  to  ancient  Tethys  and  Oceanus,  the  powers  of 
ocean,  and  in  answer  to  their  inquiries  thus  told  the  cause 
of  her  coming:  "Do  you  ask  why  I,  the  queen  of  the 
gods,  have  left  the  heavenly  plains  and  sought  your 
depths?  Learn  that  I  am  supplanted  in  heaven — my 
place  is  given  to  another.  You  will  hardly  believe  me ; 
but  look  when  night  darkens  the  world,  and  you  shall  see 
the  two  of  whom  I  have  so  much  reason  to  complain 
exalted  to  the  heavens,  in  that  part  where  the  circle  is  the 
smallest,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  pole.  Why  should 
any  one  hereafter  tremble  at  the  thought  of  offending 
Juno,  when  such  rewards  are  the  consequence  of  my  dis- 


CALLISTO  33 

pleasure  ?  See  what  I  have  been  able  to  effect !  I  forbade 
her  to  wear  the  human  form — she  is  placed  among  the 
stars !  So  do  my  punishments  result — such  is  the  extent 
of  my  power !  Better  that  she  should  have  resumed  her 
former  shape,  as  I  permitted  lo  to  do.  Perhaps  he  means 
to  marry  her,  and  put  me  away !  But  you,  my  foster- 
parents,  if  you  feel  for  me,  and  see  with  displeasure  this 
unworthy  treatment  of  me,  show  it,  I  beseech  you,  by 
forbidding  this  guilty  couple  from  coming  into  your 
waters."  The  powers  of  the  ocean  assented,  and  conse- 
quently the  two  constellations  of  the  Great  and  Little 
Bear  move  round  and  round  in  heaven,  but  never  sink, 
as  the  other  stars  do,  beneath  the  ocean. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  fact  that  the  constellation  of  tli-j 
Bear  never  sets,  when  he  says : 

"Let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour 
Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower, 
Where  I  may  oft  outwatch  the  Bear,"  etc. 

And  Prometheus,  in  J.  R.  Lowell's  poem,  says : 

"One  after  one  the  stars  have  risen  and  set, 
Sparkling  upon  the  hoar  frost  of  my  chain; 
The  Bear  that  prowled  all  night  about  the  fold 
Of  the  North-star,  hath  shrunk  into  his  den, 
Scared  by  the  blithesome  footsteps  of  the  Dawn." 

The  last  star  in  the  tail  of  the  Little  Bear  is  the  Pole- 
star,  called  also  the  Cynosure.  Milton  says: 

"Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
While  the  landscape  round  it  measures. 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 
Where   perhaps   some  beauty   lies 
The  Cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes." 

The  reference  here  is  both  to  the  Pole-star  as  the  guide 
of  mariners,  and  to  the  magnetic  attraction  of  the  North. 
He  calls  it  also  the  "Star  of  Arcady,"  because  Callisto's 


34          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

boy  was  named  Areas,  and  they  lived  in  Arcadia.     In 
"Comus,"  the  brother,  benighted  in  the  woods,  says : 

".  .  .  Some  gentle  taper ! 
Though  a  rush  candle,  from  the  wicker  hole 
Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 
With  thy  long  levelled  rule  of  streaming  light, 
And  thou  shalt  be  our  star  of  Arcady, 
Or  Tyrian  Cynosure." 


DIANA  AND  ACTION 

Thus  in  two  instances  we  have  seen  Juno's  severity 
to  her  rivals ;  now  let  us  learn  how  a  virgin  goddess  pun- 
ished an  invader  of  her  privacy. 

It  was  midday,  and  the  sun  stood  equally  distant  from 
either  goal,  when  young  Actaeon,  son  of  King  Cadmus, 
thus  addressed  the  youths  who  with  him  were  hunting 
the  stag  in  the  mountains : 

"Friends,  our  nets  and  our  weapons  are  wet  with  the 
blood  of  our  victims ;  we  have  had  sport  enough  for  one 
day,  and  to-morrow  we  can  renew  our  labors.  Now, 
while  Phoebus  parches  the  earth,  let  us  put  by  our  imple- 
ments and  indulge  ourselves  with  rest." 

There  was  a  valley  thick  enclosed  with  cypresses  and 
pines,  sacred  to  the  huntress  queen,  Diana.  In  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  valley  was  a  cave,  not  adorned  with  art, 
but  nature  had  counterfeited  art  in  its  construction,  for 
she  had  turned  the  arch  of  its  roof  with  stones  as  deli- 
cately fitted  as  if  by  the  hand  of  man.  A  fountain  burst 
out  from  one  side,  whose  open  basin  was  bounded  by  a 
grassy  rim.  Here  the  goddess  of  the  woods  used  to  come 
when  weary  with  hunting  and  lave  her  virgin  limbs  in 
the  sparkling  water. 

One  day,  having  repaired  thither  with  her  nymphs,  she 
handed  her  javelin,  her  quiver,  and  her  bow  to  one,  her 
robe  to  another,  while  a  third  unbound  the  sandals  from 
her  feet.  Then  Crocale,  the  most  skilful  of  them,  ar- 
ranged her  hair,  and  Nephele,  Hyale,  and  the  rest  drew 
water  in  capacious  urns.  While  the  goddess  was  thus 
employed  in  the  labors  of  the  toilet,  behold  Actaeon,  hav- 
ing quitted  his  companions,  and  rambling  without  any 


DIANA  AND  ACTION  35 

especial  object,  came  to  the  place,  led  thither  by  his 
destiny.  As  he  presented  himself  at  the  entrance  of  the 
cave,  the  nymphs,  seeing  a  man,  screamed  and  rushed 
towards  the  goddess  to  hide  her  with  their  bodies.  But 
she  was  taller  than  the  rest  and  overtopped  them  all  by 
a  head.  Such  a  color  as  tinges  the  clouds  at  sunset  or 
at  dawn  came  over  the  countenance  of  Diana  thus  taken 
by  surprise.  Surrounded  as  she  was  by  her  nymphs,  she 
yet  turned  half  away,  and  sought  with  a  sudden  impulse 
for  her  arrows.  As  they  were  not  at  hand,  she  dashed 
the  water  into  the  face  of  the  intruder,  adding  these 
words:  "Now  go  and  tell,  if  you  can,  that  you  have 
seen  Diana  unapparelled."  Immediately  a  pair  of  branch- 
ing stag's  horns  grew  out  of  his  head,  his  neck  gained  in 
length,  his  ears  grew  sharp-pointed,  his  hands  became 
feet,  his  arms  long  legs,  his  body  was  covered  with  a 
hairy  spotted  hide.  Fear  took  the  place  of  his  former 
boldness,  and  the  hero  fled,  lie  could  not  but  admire  his 
own  speed ;  but  when  he  saw  his  horns  in  the  water,  "Ah, 
wretched  me !"  he  would  have  said,  but  no  sound  followed 
the  effort.  lie  groaned,  and  tears  flowed  down  the  face 
which  had  taken  the  place  of  his  own.  Yet  his  conscious- 
ness remained.  What  shall  he  do  ? — go  home  to  seek  the 
palace,  or  lie  hid  in  the  woods  ?  The  latter  he  was  afraid, 
the  former  he  was  ashamed,  to  do.  While  he  hesitated 
the  dogs  saw  him.  First  Melampus,  a  Spartan  dog,  gave 
the  signal  with  his  bark,  then  Pamphagus,  Dorceus,  Le- 
laps,  Theron,  Nape,  Tigris,  and  all  the  rest,  rushed  after 
him  swifter  than  the  wind.  Over  rocks  and  cliffs,  through 
mountain  gorges  that  seemed  impracticable,  he  fled  and 
they  followed.  Where  he  had  often  chased  the  stag  and 
cheered  on  his  pack,  his  pack  now  chased  him,  cheered 
on  by  his  huntsmen.  He  longed  to  cry  out,  "I  am  Ac- 
tseon;  recognize  your  master!"  but  the  words  came  not 
at  his  will.  The  air  resounded  with  the  bark  of  the  dogs. 
Presently  one  fastened  on  his  back,  another  seized  his 
shoulder.  While  they  held  their  master,  the  rest  of  the 
pack  came  up  and  buried  their  teeth  in  his  flesh.  He 
groaned, — not  in  a  human  voice,  yet  certainly  not  in  a 
stag's, — and  falling  on  his  knees,  raised  his  eyes,  and 
would  have  raised  his  arms  in  supplication,  if  he  had  had. 


36    STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

them.  His  friends  and  fellow-huntsmen  cheered  on  the 
dogs,  and  looked  everywhere  for  Actseon,  calling  on  him 
to  join  the  sport.  At  the  sound  of  his  name  he  turned 
his  head,  and  heard  them  regret  that  he  should  be  away. 
He  earnestly  wished  he  was.  He  would  have  been  well 
pleased  to  see  the  exploits  of  his  dogs,  but  to  feel  them 
was  too  much.  They  were  all  around  him,  rending  and 
tearing ;  and  it  was  not  till  they  had  torn  his  life  out  that 
the  anger  of  Diana  was  satisfied. 

In  Shelley's  poem  "Adonais"  is  the  following  allusion 
to  the  story  of  Actaeon: 

'"Midst  others  of  less  note  came  one  frail  form, 
A  phantom  among  men :  companionless 
As  the  last  cloud  of  an  expiring  storm, 
Whose  thunder  is  its  knell;  he,  as  I  guess, 
Had  gazed  on  Nature's  naked  loveliness, 
Actaeon-like,  and  now  he  fled  astray 
With  feeble  steps  o'er  the  world's  wilderness: 
And  his  own  Thoughts,  along  that  ruggefl  way, 
Pursued  like  raging  hounds  their   father  and  their  prey  ' 

Stanza  31 

The  allusion  is  probably  to  Shelley  himself. 


LATONA   AND    THE    RUSTICS 

Some  thought  the  goddess  in  this  instance  more  severe 
than  was  just,  while  others  praised  her  conduct  as  strictly 
consistent  with  her  virgin  dignity.  As  usual,  the  recent 
event  brought  older  ones  to  mind,  and  one  of  the  by- 
standers told  this  story:  "Some  countrymen  of  Lycia 
once  insulted  the  goddess  Latona,  but  not  with  impunity. 
When  I  was  young,  my  father,  who  had  grown  too  old 
for  active  labors,  sent  me  to  Lycia  to  drive  thence  some 
choice  oxen,  and  there  I  saw  the  very  pond  and  marsh 
where  the  wonder  happened.  Near  by  stood  an  ancient 
altar,  black  with  the  smoke  of  sacrifice  and  almost  buried 
among  the  reeds.  I  inquired  whose  altar  it  might  be, 
whether  of  Faunus  or  the  Naiads,  or  some  god  of  the 
neighboring  mountain,  and  one  of  the  country  people 
replied,  'No  mountain  or  river  god  possesses  this  altar, 


LATONA  AND  THE  RUSTICS  37 

but  she  whom  royal  Juno  in  her  jealousy  drove  from  land 
to  land,  denying  her  any  spot  of  earth  whereon  to  rear 
her  twins.  Bearing  in  her  arms  the  infant  deities,  Latona 
reached  this  land,  weary  with  her  burden  and  parched 
with  thirst.  By  chance  she  espied  on  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  this  pond  of  clear  water,  where  the  country  people 
were  at  work  gathering  willows  and  osiers.  The  goddess 
approached,  and  kneeling  on  the  bank  would  have  slaked 
her  thirst  in  the  cool  stream,  but  the  rustics  forbade  her. 
'Why  do  you  refuse  me  water?'  said  she;  'water  is 
free  to  all.  Nature  allows  no  one  to  claim  as  property 
the  sunshine,  the  air,  or  the  water.  I  come  to  take  my 
share  of  the  common  blessing.  Yet  I  ask  it  of  you  as  a 
favor.  I  have  no  intention  of  washing  my  limbs  in  it, 
weary  though  they  be,  but  only  to  quench  my  thirst.  My 
mouth  is  so  dry  that  I  can  hardly  speak.  A  draught  of 
water  would  be  nectar  to  me ;  it  would  revive  me,  and  I 
would  own  myself  indebted  to  you  for  life  itself.  Let 
these  infants  move  your  pity,  who  stretch  out  their  little 
arms  as  if  to  plead  for  me;'  and  the  children,  as  it 
happened,  were  stretching  out  their  arms. 

"Who  would  not  have  been  moved  with  these  gentle 
words  of  the  goddess?  But  these  clowns  persisted  in 
their  rudeness;  they  even  added  jeers  and  threats  of  vio- 
lence if  she  did  not  leave  the  place.  Nor  was  this  all. 
They  waded  into  the  pond  and  stirred  up  the  mud  with 
their  feet,  so  as  to  make  the  water  unfit  to  drink.  Latona 
was  so  angry  that  she  ceased  to  mind  her  thirst.  She 
no  longer  supplicated  the  clowns,  but  lifting  her  hands  to 
heaven  exclaimed,  'May  they  never  quit  that  pool,  but 
pass  their  lives  there !'  And  it  came  to  pass  accordingly. 
They  now  live  in  the  water,  sometimes  totally  submerged, 
then  raising  their  heads  above  the  surface  or  swimming 
upon  it.  Sometimes  they  come  out  upon  the  bank,  but 
soon  leap  back  again  into  the  water.  They  still  use  their 
base  voices  in  railing,  and  though  they  have  the  water 
all  to  themselves,  are  not  ashamed  to  croak  in  the  midst 
of  it.  Their  voices  are  harsh,  their  throats  bloated,  their 
mouths  have  become  stretched  by  constant  railing,  their 
necks  have  shrunk  up  and  disappeared,  and  their  heads 
are  joined  to  their  bodies.  Their  backs  are  green,  their 


38         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

disproportioned  bellies  white,  and  in  short  they  are  now 
frogs,  and  dwell  in  the  slimy  pool/' 

This  story  explains  the  allusion  in  one  of  Milton's 
sonnets,  "On  the  detraction  which  followed  upon  his 
writing  certain  treatises." 

"I  did  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 
By  the  known  laws  of  ancient  1'berty, 
When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 

Of  owls  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes  and  dogs. 

As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transformed  to  frogs 
Railed  at  Latona's  twin-born  progeny, 
Which  after  held  the  sun  and  moon  in  fee." 

The  persecution  which  Latona  experienced  from  Juno 
is  alluded  to  in  the  story.  The  tradition  was  that  the 
future  mother  of  Apollo  and  Diana,  flying  from  the  wrath 
of  Juno,  besought  all  the  islands  of  the  ^gean  to  afford 
her  a  place  of  rest,  but  all  feared  too  much  the  potent 
queen  of  heaven  to  assist  her  rival.  Delos  alone  consent- 
ed to  become  the  birthplace  of  the  future  deities.  Delos 
was  then  a  floating  island ;  but  when  Latona  arrived  there, 
Jupiter  fastened  it  with  adamantine  chains  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  that  it  might  be  a  secure  resting-place  for  his 
beloved.  Byron  alludes  to  Delos  in  his  "Don  Juan" : 

"The  isles  of  Greece!  the  isles  of  Greece! 

Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sung, 
Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace, 
Where  Delos  rose  and  Phoebus  sprung!" 


CHAPTER   V 

PHAETON 


PHAETON  was  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the  nymph  Cly- 
rnene.  One  day  a  schoolfellow  laughed  at  the  idea  of 
his  being  the  son  of  the  god,  and  Phaeton  went  in  rage 
and  shame  and  reported  it  to  his  mother.  "If,"  said  he, 
"!  am  indeed  of  heavenly  birth,  give  me,  mother,  ?ome 


PHAETON  39 

proof  of  it,  and  establish  my  claim  to  the  honor."  Cly- 
mene  stretched  forth  her  hands  towards  the  skies,  and 
said,  "I  call  to  witness  the.  Sun  which  looks  down  upon 
us,  that  I  have  told  you  the  truth.  If  I  speak  falsely, 
let  this  be  the  last  time  I  behold  his  light.  But  it  needs 
not  much  labor  to  go  and  inquire  for  yourself ;  the  land 
whence  the  Sun  rises  lies  next  to  ours.  Go  and  demand 
of  him  whether  he  will  own  you  as  a  son."  Phaeton 
heard  with  delight.  He  travelled  to  India,  which  lies 
directly  in  the  regions  of  sunrise;  and,  full  of  hope  and 
pride,  approached  the  goal  whence  his  parent  begins  his 
course. 

The  palace  of  the  Sun  stood  reared  aloft  on  columns, 
glittering  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  while  polished 
ivory  formed  the  ceilings,  and  silver  the  doors.  The 
workmanship  surpassed  the  material ; 1  for  upon  the 
walls  Vulcan  had  represented  earth,  sea,  and  skies,  with 
their  inhabitants.  In  the  sea  were  the  nymphs,  some 
sporting  in  the  waves,  some  riding  on  the  backs  of  fishes, 
while  others  sat  upon  the  rocks  and  dried  their  sea-green 
hair.  Their  faces  were  not  all  alike,  nor  yet  unlike, — 
but  such  as  sisters'  ought  to  be.1  The  earth  had  its  towns 
and  forests  and  rivers  and  rustic  divinities.  Over  all  was 
carved  the  likeness  of  the  glorious  heaven ;  and  on  the 
silver  doors  the  twelve  signs  of  the  zodiac,  six  on  each 
side. 

Clymene's  son  advanced  up  the  steep  ascent,  and 
entered  the  halls  of  his  disputed  father.  He  approached 
the  paternal  presence,  but  stopped  at  a  distance,  for  the 
light  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  Phoebus,  arrayed 
in  a  purple  vesture,  sat  on  a  throne,  which  glittered  as 
with  diamonds.  On  his  right  hand  and  his  left  stood  the 
Day,  the  Month,  and  the  Year,  and,  at  regular  intervals, 
the  Hours.  Spring  stood  with  her  head  crowned  with 
flowers,  and  Summer,  with  garment  cast  aside,  and  a 
garland  formed  of  spears  of  ripened  grain,  and  Autumn, 
with  his  feet  stained  with  grape- juice,  and  icy  Winter, 
with  his  hair  stiffened  with  hoar  frost.  Surrounded  by 
these  attendants,  the  Sun,  witl^  the  eye  that  sees  every- 
thing, beheld  the  youth  dazzled  with  the  novelty  and 

1  Sec    Proveibial    Expressions. 


40         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

splendor  of  the  scene,  and  inquired  the  purpose  of  his 
errand.  The  youth  replied,  "O  light  of  the  boundless 
world,  Phoebus,  my  father, — if  you  permit  me  to  use  that 
name, — give  me  some  proof,  I  beseech  you,  by  which  I 
may  be  known  as  yours."  He  ceased;  and  his  father, 
laying  aside  the  beams  that  shone  all  around  his  head, 
bade  him  approach,  and  embracing  him,  said,  "My  son, 
you  deserve  not  to  be  disowned,  and  I  confirm  what  your 
mother  has  told  you.  To  put  an  end  to  your  doubts,  ask 
what  you  will,  the  gift  shall  be  yours.  I  call  to  witness 
that  dreadful  lake,  which  I  never  saw,  but  which  we  gods 
swear  by  in  our  most  solemn  engagements."  Phaeton 
immediately  asked  to  be  permitted  for  one  day  to  drive 
the  chariot  of  the  sun.  The  father  repented  of  his 
promise ;  thrice  and  four  times  he  shook  his  radiant  head 
in  warning.  "I  have  spoken  rashly/'  said  he ;  "this  only 
request  I  would  fain  deny.  I  beg  you  to  withdraw  it. 
It  is  not  a  safe  boon,  nor  one,  my  Phaeton,  suited  to  your 
youth  and  strength.  Your  lot  is  mortal,  and  you  ask  what 
is  beyond  a  mortal's  power.  In  your  ignorance  you  aspire 
to  do  that  which  not  even  the  gods  themselves  may  do. 
None  but  myself  may  drive  the  flaming  car  of  day.  Not 
even  Jupiter,  whose  terrible  right  arm  hurls  the  thunder- 
bolts. The  first  part  of  the  way  is  steep,  and  such  as 
the  horses  when  fresh  in  the  morning  can  hardly  climb ; 
the  middle  is  high  up  in  the  heavens,  whence  I  myself 
can  scarcely,  without  alarm,  look  down  and  behold  the 
earth  and  sea  stretched  beneath  me.  The  last  part  of  the 
road  descends  rapidly,  and  requires  most  careful  driving. 
Tethys,  who  is  waiting  to  receive  me,  often  trembles  for 
me  lest  I  should  fall  headlong.  Add  to  all  this,  the  heaven 
is  all  the  time  turning  round  and  carrying  the  stars  with 
it.  I  have  to  be  perpetually  on  my  guard  lest  that  move- 
ment, which  sweeps  everything  else  along,  should  hurry 
me  also  away.  Suppose  I  should  lend  you  the  chariot, 
what  would  you  do  ?  Could  you  keep  your  course  while 
the  sphere  was  revolving  under  you  ?  Perhaps  you  think 
that  there  are  forests  and  cities,  the  abodes  of  gods,  and 
palaces  and  temples  on  the  way.  On  the  contrary,  the 
road  is  through  the  midst  of  frightful  monsters.  You 
pass  by  the  horns  of  the  Bull,  in  front  of  the  Archer,  and 


PHAETON  41 

near  the  Lion's  jaws,  and  where  the  Scorpion  stretches 
its  arms  in  one  direction  and  the  Crab  in  another.  Nor 
will  you  find  it  easy  to  guide  those  horses,  with  their 
breasts  full  of  fire  that  they  breathe  forth  from  their 
mouths  and  nostrils.  I  can  scarcely  govern  them  myself, 
when  they  are  unruly  and  resist  the  reins.  Beware,  my 
son,  lest  I  be  the  donor  of  a  fatal  gift ;  recall  your  request 
while  yet  you  may.  Do  you  ask  me  for  a  proof  that  you 
are  sprung  from  my  blood?  I  give  you  a  proof  in  my 
fears  for  you.  Look  at  my  face — I  would  that  you  could 
look  into  my  breast,  you  would  there  see  all  a  father's 
anxiety.  Finally,"  he  continued,  "look  round  the  world 
and  choose  whatever  you  will  of  what  earth  or  sea  con- 
tains most  precious — ask  it  and  fear  no  refusal.  This 
only  I  pray  you  not  to  urge.  It  is  not  honor,  but  destruc- 
tion you  seek.  Why  do  you  hang  round  my  neck  and  still 
entreat  me?  You  shall  have  it  if  you  persist, — the  oath 
is  sworn  and  must  be  kept, — but  I  beg  you  to  choose  more 
wisely." 

He  ended;  but  the  youth  rejected  all  admonition  and 
held  to  his  demand.  So,  having  resisted  as  long  as  he 
could,  Phcebus  at  last  led  the  way  to  where  stood  the  lofty 
chariot. 

It  was  of  gold,  the  gift  of  Vulcan ;  the  axle  was  of  gold, 
the  pole  and  wheels  of  gold,  the  spokes  of  silver.  Along 
the  seat  were  rows  of  chrysolites  and  diamonds  which 
reflected  all  around  the  brightness  of  the  sun.  While 
the  daring  youth  gazed  in  admiration,  the  early  Dawn 
threw  open  the  purple  doors  of  the  east,  and  showed  the 
pathway  strewn  with  roses.  The  stars  withdrew,  mar- 
shalled by  the  Day-star,  which  last  of  all  retired  also. 
The  father,  when  he  saw  the  earth  beginning  to  glow,  and 
the  Moon  preparing  to  retire,  ordered  the  Hours  to  har- 
ness up  the  horses.  They  obeyed,  and  led  forth  from  the 
lofty  stalls  the  steeds  full  fed  with  ambrosia,  and  attached 
the  reins.  Then  the  father  bathed  the  face  of  his  son 
with  a  powerful  unguent,  and  made  him  capable  of  en- 
during the  brightness  of  the  flame.  He  set  the  rays  on 
his  head,  and,  with  a  foreboding  sigh,  said,  "If,  my  son, 
you  will  in  this  at  least  heed  my  advice,  spare  the  whip 
and  hold  tight  the  reins.  They  go  fast  enough  of  their 


42         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

own  accord;  the  labor  is  to  hold  them  in.  You  are  not 
to  take  the  straight  road  directly  between  the  five  circles, 
but  turn  off  to  the  left.  Keep  within  the  limit  of  the 
middle  zone,  and  avoid  the  northern  and  the  southern 
alike.  You  will  see  the  marks  of  the  wheels,  and  they 
will  serve  to  guide  you.  And,  that  the  skies  and  the  earth 
may  each  receive  their  due  share  of  heat,  go  not  too  high, 
or  you  will  burn  the  heavenly  dwellings,  nor  too  low,  or 
you  will  set  the  earth  on  fire ;  the  middle  course  is  safest 
and  best.1  And  now  I  leave  you  to  your  chance,  which  I 
hope  will  plan  better  for  you  than  you  have  done  for 
yourself.  Night  is  passing  out  of  the  western  gates  and 
we  can  delay  no  longer.  Take  the  reins ;  but  if  at  last 
your  heart  fails  you,  and  you  will  benefit  by  my  advice, 
stay  where  you  are  in  safety,  and  suffer  me  to  light  and 
warm  the  earth."  The  agile  youth  sprang  into  the  chariot, 
stood  erect,  and  grasped  the  reins  with  delight,  pouring 
out  thanks  to  his  reluctant  parent. 

Meanwhile  the  horses  fill  the  air  with  their  snortings 
rttid  fiery  breath,  and  stamp  the  ground  impatient.  Now 
the  bars  are  let  down,  and  the  boundless  plain  of  the 
universe  lies  open  before  them.  They  dart  forward  and 
cleave  the  opposing  clouds,  and  outrun  the  morning 
breezes  which  started  from  the  same  eastern  goal.  The 
steeds  soon  perceived  that  the  load  they  drew  was  lighter 
than  usual ;  and  as  a  ship  without  ballast  is  tossed  hither 
and  thither  on  the  sea,  so  the  chariot,  without  its  accus- 
tomed weight,  was  dashed  about  as  if  empty.  They  rush 
headlong  and  leave  the  travelled  road.  He  is  alarmed, 
and  knows  not  how  to  guide  them;  nor,  if  he  knew,  has 
he  the  power.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  Great  and 
Little  Bear  were  scorched  with  heat,  and  would  fain, 
if  it  were  possible,  have  plunged  into  the  water ;  and  the 
Serpent  which  lies  coiled  up  round  the  north  pole,  torpid 
and  harmless,  grew  warm,  and  with  warmth  felt  its  rage 
revive.  Bootes,  they  say,  fled  away,  though  encumbered 
with  his  plough,  and  all  unused  to  rapid  motion. 

When  hapless  Phaeton  looked  down  upon  the  earth, 
now  spreading  in  vast  extent  beneath  him,  he  grew  pale 
and  his  knees  shook  with  terror.  In  spite  of  the  glare 

1  See    Proverbial    Expressions 


PHAETON  43 

all  around  him,  the  sight  of  his  eyes  grew  dim.  He 
wished  he  had  never  touched  his  father's  horses,  never 
learned  his  parentage,  never  prevailed  in  his  request.  He 
is  borne  along  like  a  vessel  that  flies  before  a  tempest, 
when  the  pilot  can  do  no  more  and  betakes  himself  to  his 
prayers.  What  shall  he  do  ?  Much  of  the  heavenly  road 
is  left  behind,  but  more  remains  before.  He  turns  his 
eyes  from  one  direction  to  the  other;  now  to  the  goal 
whence  he  began  his  course,  now  to  the  realms  of  sunset 
which  he  is  not  destined  to  reach.  He  loses  his  self-com- 
mand, and  knows  not  what  to  do, — whether  to  draw  tight 
the  reins  or  throw  them  loose;  he  forgets  the  names  of 
the  horses.  He  sees  with  terror  the  monstrous  forms 
scattered  over  the  surface  of  heaven.  Here  the  Scor- 
pion extended  his  two  great  arms,  with  his  tail  and 
crooked  claws  stretching  over  two  signs  of  the  zodiac. 
When  the  boy  beheld  him,  reeking  with  poison  and  men- 
acing with  his  fangs,  his  courage  failed,  and  the  reins 
fell  from  his  hands.  The  horses,  when  they  felt  them 
loose  on  their  backs,  dashed  headlong,  and  unrestrained 
went  off  into  unknown  regions  of  the  sky,  in  among  the 
stars,  hurling  the  chariot  over  pathless  places,  now  up  in 
high  heaven,  now  down  almost  to  the  earth.  The  moon 
saw  with  astonishment  her  brother's  chariot  running  be- 
neath her  own.  The  clouds  begin  to  smoke,  and  the 
mountain  tops  take  fire ;  the  fields  are  parched  with  heat, 
the  plants  wither,  the  trees  with  their  leafy  branches  burn, 
the  harvest  is  ablaze !  But  these  are  small  things.  Great 
cities  perished,  with  their  walls  and  towers  ;  whole  nations 
with  their  people  were  consumed  to  ashes !  The  forest- 
clad  mountains  burned,  Athos  and  Taurus  and  Tmolus 
and  (Ete ;  Ida,  once  celebrated  for  fountains,  but  now  all 
dry ;  the  Muses'  mountain  Helicon,  and  Haemus ;  y£tna, 
with  fires  within  and  without,  and  Parnassus,  with  his 
two  peaks,  and  Rhodope,  forced  at  last  to  part  with  his 
snowy  crown.  Her  cold  climate  was  no  protection  to 
Scythia,  Caucasus  burned,  and  Ossa  and  Pindus,  and, 
greater  than  both,  Olympus ;  the  Alps  high  in  air,  and  the 
Apennines  crowned  with  clouds. 

Then  Phaeton  beheld  the  world  on  fire,  and  felt  the 
heat  intolerable.    The  air  he  breathed  was  like  the  air 


44         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

of  a  furnace  and  full  of  burning  ashes,  and  the  smoke 
was  of  a  pitchy  darkness.  He  dashed  forward  he  knew 
not  whither.  Then,  it  is  believed,  the  people  of  Ethiopia 
became  black  by  the  blood  being  forced  so  suddenly  to 
the  surface,  and  the  Libyan  desert  was  dried  up  to  the 
condition  in  which  it  remains  to  this  day.  The  Nymphs 
of  the  fountains,  with  dishevelled  hair,  mourned  their 
waters,  nor  were  the  rivers  safe  beneath  their  banks : 
Tanais  smoked,  and  Caicus,  Xanthus,  and  Meander; 
Babylonian  Euphrates  and  Ganges,  Tagus  with  golden 
sands,  and  Cayster  where  the  swans  resort.  Nile  fled 
away  and  hid  his  head  in  the  desert,  and  there  it  still 
remains  concealed.  Where  he  used  to  discharge  his 
waters  through  seven  mouths  into  the  sea,  there  seven 
dry  channels  alone  remained.  The  earth  cracked  open, 
and  through  the  chinks  light  broke  into  Tartarus,  and 
frightened  the  king  of  shadows  and  his  queen.  The  sea 
shrank  up.  Where  before  was  water,  it  became  a  dry 
plain ;  and  the  mountains  that  lie  beneath  the  waves  lifted 
up  their  heads  and  became  islands.  The  fishes  sought 
the  lowest  depths,  and  the  dolphins  no  longer  ventured  as 
usual  to  sport  on  the  surface.  Even  Nereus,  and  his  wife 
Doris,  with  the  Nereids,  their  daughters,  sought  the  deep- 
est caves  for  refuge.  Thrice  Neptune  essayed  to  raise 
his  head  above  the  surface,  and  thrice  was  driven  back 
by  the  heat.  Earth,  surrounded  as  she  was  by  waters, 
yet  with  head  and  shoulders  bare,  screening  her  face  with 
her  hand,  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  with  a  husky  voice 
called  on  Jupiter: 

"O  ruler  of  the  gods,  if  I  have  deserved  this  treatment, 
and  it  is  your  will  that  I  perish  with  fire,  why  withhold 
your  thunderbolts?  Let  me  at  least  fall  by  your  hand. 
Is  this  the  reward  of  my  fertility,  of  my  obedient  service? 
Is  it  for  this  that  I  have  supplied  herbage  for  cattle,  and 
fruits  for  men,  and  frankincense  for  your  altars?  But 
if  I  am  unworthy  of  regard,  what  has  my  brother  Ocean 
done  to  deserve  such  a  fate?  If  neither  of  us  can  excite 
your  pity,  think,  I  pray  you,  of  your  own  heaven,  and 
behold  how  both  the  poles  are  smoking  which  sustain 
your  palace,  which  must  fall  if  they  be  destroyed.  Atlas 
faints,  and  scarce  holds  up  his  burden.  If  sea,  earth, 


PHAETON  45 

and  heaven  perish,  we  fall  into  ancient  Chaos.  Save  what 
yet  remains  to  us  from  the  devouring  flame.  O,  take 
thought  for  our  deliverance  in  this  awful  moment !" 

Thus  spoke  Earth,  and  overcome  with  heat  and  thirst, 
could  say  no  more.  Then  Jupiter  omnipotent,  calling  to 
witness  all  the  gods,  including  him  who  had  lent  the 
chariot,  and  showing  them  that  all  was  lost  unless  speedy 
remedy  were  applied,  mounted  the  lofty  tower  from 
whence  he  diffuses  clouds  over  the  earth,  and  hurls  the 
forked  lightnings.  But  at  that  time  not  a  cloud  was  to 
be  found  to  interpose  for  a  screen  to  earth,  nor  was  a 
shower  remaining  unexhausted.  He  thundered,  and 
brandishing  a  lightning  bolt  in  his  right  hand  launched 
it  against  the  charioteer,  and  struck  him  at  the  same  mo- 
ment from  his  seat  and  from  existence !  Phaeton,  with 
his  hair  on  fire,  fell  headlong,  like  a  shooting  star  which 
marks  the  heavens  with  its  brightness  as  it  falls,  and 
Eridanus,  the  great  river,  received  him  and  cooled  his 
burning  frame.  The  Italian  Naiads  reared  a  tomb  for 
him,  and  inscribed  these  words  upon  the  stone : 

"Driver  of  Phoebus'  chariot,  Phaeton, 
Struck  by  Jove's  thunder,  rests  beneath  this  stone. 
He  could  not  rule  his  father's  car  of  fire, 
Yet  was  it  much  so  nobly  to  aspire."1 

His  sisters,  the  Heliades,  as  they  lamented  his  fate, 
were  turned  into  poplar  trees,  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
and  their  tears,  which  continued  to  flow,  became  amber 
as  they  dropped  into  the  stream. 

Milman,  in  his  poem  of  "Samor,"  makes  the  following 
allusion  to  Phaeton's  story: 

"As  when  the  palsied  universe  aghast 
Lay  .  .  .  mute  and  still, 

When  drove,  so  poets  sing,  the  Sun-born  youth 
Devious  through  Heaven's  affrighted  signs  his  sire's 
Ill-granted  chariot.     Him  the  Thunderer  hurled 
From  th'  empyrean  headlong  to  the  gulf 
Of  the  half-parched  Eridanus,  where  weep 
Even  now  the  sister  trees  their  amber  tears 
O'er  Phaeton  untimely  dead." 

In  the  beautiful  lines  of  Walter  Savage  Landor,  de- 

1  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


46    STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

scriptive  of  the  Sea-shell,  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  Sun's 
palace  and  chariot.    The  water-nymph  says : 

".  .  .  I  have  sinuous  shells  of  pearly  hue 
Within,  and  things  that  lustre  have  imbibed 
In  the  sun's  palace  porch,  where  when  unyoked 
His  chariot  wheel  stands  midway  on  the  wave. 
Shake  one  and  it  awakens;  then  apply 
Its  polished  lip  to  your  attentive  ear, 
And  it  remembers  its  august  abodes, 
And  murmurs  as  the  ocean  murmurs  there." 

— Gebir,  Book  I. 


CHAPTER   VI 

MIDAS BAUCIS   AND   PHILEMON 

BACCHUS,  on  a  certain  occasion,  found  his  old  school- 
master and  foster-father,  Silenus,  missing.  The  old  man 
had  been  drinking,  and  in  that  state  wandered  away,  and 
was  found  by  some  peasants,  who  carried  him  to  their 
king,  Midas.  Midas  recognized  him,  and  treated  him 
hospitably,  entertaining  him  for  ten  days  and  nights  with 
an  unceasing  round  of  jollity.  On  the  eleventh  day  he 
brought  Silenus  back,  and  restored  him  in  safety  to  his 
pupil.  Whereupon  Bacchus  offered  Midas  his  choice 
of  a  reward,  whatever  he  might  wish.  He  asked  that 
whatever  he  might  touch  should  be  changed  into  gold. 
Bacchus  consented,  though  sorry  that  he  had  not  made  a 
better  choice.  Midas  went  his  way,  rejoicing  in  his  new- 
acquired  power,  which  he  hastened  to  put  to  the  test. 
He  could  scarce  believe  his  eyes  when  he  found  a  twig 
of  an  oak,  which  he  plucked  from  the  branch,  become 
gold  in  his  hand.  He  took  up  a  stone ;  it  changed  to  gold. 
He  touched  a  sod;  it  did  the  same.  He  took  an  apple 
from  the  tree;  you  would  have  thought  he  had  robbed 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides.  His  joy  knew  no  bounds, 
and  as  soon  as  he  got  home,  he  ordered  the  servants  to 
set  a  splendid  repast  on  the  table.  Then  he  found  to  his 
dismay  that  whether  he  touched  bread,  it  hardened  in  his 


MIDAS  47 

hand ;  or  put  a  morsel  to  his  lips,  it  defied  his  teeth.  He 
took  a  glass  of  wine,  but  it  flowed  down  his  throat  like 
melted  gold. 

In  consternation  at  the  unprecedented  affliction,  he 
strove  to  divest  himself  of  his  power;  he  hated  the  gift 
he  had  lately  coveted.  But  all  in  vain ;  starvation  seemed 
to  await  him.  He  raised  his  arms,  all  shining  with  gold, 
in  prayer  to  Bacchus,  begging  to  be  delivered  from  his 
glittering  destruction.  Bacchus,  merciful  deity,  heard  and 
consented.  "Go,"  said  he,  "to  the  River  Pactolus,  trace 
the  stream  to  its  fountain-head,  there  plunge  your  head 
and  body  in,  and  wash  away  your  fault  and  its  pun- 
ishment." He  did  so,  and  scarce  had  he  touched  the 
waters  before  the  gold-creating  power  passed  into  them, 
and  the  river-sands  became  changed  into  gold,  as  they 
remain  to  this  day. 

Thenceforth  Midas,  hating  wealth  and  splendor,  dwelt 
in  the  country,  and  became  a  worshipper  of  Pan,  the 
god  of  the  fields.  On  a  certain  occasion  Pan  had  the 
temerity  to  compare  his  music  with  that  of  Apollo,  and 
to  challenge  the  god  of  the  lyre  to  a  trial  of  skill.  The 
challenge  was  accepted,  and  Tmolus,  the  mountain  god, 
was  chosen  umpire.  The  senior  took  his  seat,  and  cleared 
away  the  trees  from  his  ears  to  listen.  At  a  given  signal 
Pan  blew  on  his  pipes,  and  with  his  rustic  melody  gave 
great  satisfaction  to  himself  and  his  faithful  follower 
Midas,  who  happened  to  be  present.  Then  Tmolus  turned 
his  head  toward  the  Sun-god,  and  all  his  trees  turned  with 
him.  Apollo  rose,  his  brow  wreathed  with  Parnassian 
laurel,  while  his  robe  of  Tyrian  purple  swept  the  ground. 
In  his  left  hand  he  held  the  lyre,  and  with  his  right  hand 
struck  the  strings.  Ravished  with  the  harmony,  Tmolus 
at  once  awarded  the  victory  to  the  god  of  the  lyre,  and 
all  but  Midas  acquiesced  in  the  judgment.  He  dissented, 
and  questioned  the  justice  of  the  award.  Apollo  would 
not  suffer  such  a  depraved  pair  of  ears  any  longer  to 
wear  the  human  form,  but  caused  them  to  increase  in 
length,  grow  hairy,  within  and  without,  and  movable  on 
their  roots ;  in  short,  to  be  on  the  perfect  pattern  of  those 
of  an  ass. 

Mortified  enough  was  King  Midas  at  this  mishap ;  but 


48         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

he  consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that  it  was  possible 
to  hide  his  misfortune,  which  he  attempted  to  do  by  means 
of  an  ample  turban  or  head-dress.  But  his  hair-dresser 
of  course  knew  the  secret.  He  was  charged  not  to  men- 
tion it,  and  threatened  with  dire  punishment  if  he  pre- 
sumed to  disobey.  But  he  found  it  too  much  for  his 
discretion  to  keep  such  a  secret ;  so  he  went  out  into  the 
meadow,  dug  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  stooping  down, 
whispered  the  story,  and  covered  it  up.  Before  long  a 
thick  bed  of  reeds  sprang  up  in  the  meadow,  and  as  soon 
as  it  had  gained  its  growth,  began  whispering  the  story, 
and  has  continued  to  do  so,  from  that  day  to  this,  every 
time  a  breeze  passes  over  the  place. 

The  story  of  King  Midas  has  been  told  by  others  with 
some  variations.  Dryden,  in  the  "Wife  of  Bath's  Tale," 
makes  Midas's  queen  the  betrayer  of  the  secret: 

"This  Midas  knew,  and  durst  communicate 
To  none  but  to  his  wife  his  ears  of  state." 


Midas  was  king  of  Phrygia.  He  was  the  son  of  Gor- 
dius,  a  poor  countryman,  who  was  taken  by  the  people 
and  made  king,  in  obedience  to  the  command  of  the 
oracle,  which  had  said  that  their  future  king  should  come 
in  a  wagon.  While  the  people  were  deliberating,  Gor- 
dius  with  his  wife  and  son  came  driving  his  wagon  into 
the  public  square. 

Gordius,  being  made  king,  dedicated  his  wagon  to  the 
deity  of  the  oracle,  and  tied  it  up  in  its  place  with  a  fast 
knot.  This  was  the  celebrated  Gordian  knot,  which,  in 
after  times  it  was  said,  whoever  should  untie  should  be- 
come lord  of  all  Asia.  Many  tried  to  untie  it,  butjione 
succeeded,  till  Alexander  the  Great,  in  his  career  of  con- 
quest, came  to  Phrygia.  He  tried  his  skill  with  as  ill  suc- 
cess as  others,  till  growing  impatient  he  drew  his  sword 
and  cut  the  knot.  When  he  afterwards  succeeded  in 
subjecting  all  Asia  to  his  sway,  people  began  to  think  that 
he  had  complied  with  the  terms  of  the  oracle  according 
to  its  true  meaning. 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON  49 


BAUCIS  AND   PHILEMON 

On  a  certain  hill  in  Phrygia  stands  a  linden  tree  and 
an  oak,  enclosed  by  a  low  wall.  Not  far  from  the  spot 
is  a  marsh,  formerly  good  habitable  land,  but  now  in- 
dented with  pools,  the  resort  of  fen-birds  and  cormorants. 
Once  on  a  time  Jupiter,  in  human  shape,  visited  this 
country,  and  with  him  his  son  Mercury  (he  of  the  ca- 
duceus),  without  his  wings.  They  presented  themselves, 
as  weary  travellers,  at  many  a  door,  seeking  rest  and 
shelter,  but  found  all  closed,  for  it  was  late,  and  the  in- 
hospitable inhabitants  would  not  rouse  themselves  to  open 
for  their  reception.  At  last  a  humble  mansion  received 
them,  a  small  thatched  cottage,  where  Baucis,  a  pious  old 
dame,  and  her  husband  Philemon,  united  when  young, 
had  grown  old  together.  Not  ashamed  of  their  poverty, 
they  made  it  endurable  by  moderate  desires  and  kind  dis- 
positions. One  need  not  look  there  for  master  or  for 
servant ;  they  two  were  the  whole  household,  master  and 
servant  alike.  When  the  two  heavenly  guests  crossed 
the  humble  threshold,  and  bowed  their  heads  to  pass 
under  the  low  door,  the  old  man  placed  a  seat,  on  which 
Baucis,  bustling  and  attentive,  spread  a  cloth,  and  begged 
them  to  sit  down.  Then  she  raked  out  the  coals  from  the 
ashes,  and  kindled  up  a  fire,  fed  it  with  leaves  and  dry 
bark,  and  with  her  scanty  breath  blew  it  into  a  flame. 
She  brought  out  of  a  corner  split  sticks  and  dry  branches, 
broke  them  up,  and  placed  them  under  the  small  kettle. 
Her  husband  collected  some  pot-herbs  in  the  garden,  and 
she  shred  them  from  the  stalks,  and  prepared  them  for 
the  pot.  He  reached  down  with  a  forked  stick  a  flitch  of 
bacon  hanging  in  the  chimney,  cut  a  small  piece,  and  put 
it  in  the  pot  to  boil  with  the  herbs,  setting  away  the  rest 
for  another  time.  A  beechen  bowl  was  filled  with  warm 
water,  that  their  guests  might  wash.  While  all  was  do- 
ing, they  beguiled  the  time  with  conversation. 

On  the  bench  designed  for  the  guests  was  laid  a  cush- 
ion stuffed  with  sea-weed;  and  a  cloth,  only  produced 
on  great  occasions,  but  ancient  and  coarse  enough,  was 
spread  over  that.  The  old  lady,  with  her  apron  on,  with 
trembling  hand  set  the  table.  One  leg  was  shorter  than 


5u         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  rest,  but  a  piece  of  slate  put  under  restored  the  level. 
When  fixed,  she  rubbed  the  table  down  with  some  sweet- 
smelling  herbs.  Upon  it  she  set  some  of  chaste  Minerva's 
olives,  some  cornel  berries  preserved  in  vinegar,  and 
added  radishes  and  cheese,  with  eggs  lightly  cooked  in 
the  ashes.  All  were  served  in  earthen  dishes,  and  an 
earthenware  pitcher,  with  wooden  cups,  stood  beside 
them.  When  all  was  ready,  the  stew,  smoking  hot,  was 
set  on  the  table.  Some  wine,  not  of  the  oldest,  was 
added ;  and  for  dessert,  apples  and  wild  honey ;  and  over 
and  above  all,  friendly  faces,  and  simple  but  hearty 
welcome. 

Now  while  the  repast  proceeded,  the  old  folks  were 
astonished  to  see  that  the  wine,  as  fast  as  it  was  poured 
out,  renewed  itself  in  the  pitcher,  of  its  own  accord. 
Struck  with  terror,  Baucis  and  Philemon  recognized  their 
heavenly  guests,  fell  on  their  knees,  and  with  clasped 
hands  implored  forgiveness  for  their  poor  entertain- 
ment. There  was  an  old  goose,  which  they  kept  as  the 
guardian  of  their  humble  cottage;  and  they  bethought 
them  to  make  this  a  sacrifice  in  honor  of  their  guests. 
But  the  goose,  too  nimble,  with  the  aid  of  feet  and  wings, 
for  the  old  folks,  eluded  their  pursuit,  and  at  last  took 
shelter  between  the  gods  themselves.  They  forbade  it  to 
be  slain ;  and  spoke  in  these  words  :  "We  are  gods.  This 
inhospitable  village  shall  pay  the  penalty  of  its  impiety; 
you  alone  shall  go  free  from  the  chastisement.  Quit 
your  house,  and  come  with  us  to  the  top  of  yonder  hill." 
They  hastened  to  obey,  and,  staff  in  hand,  labored  up  the 
steep  ascent.  They  had  reached  to  within  an  arrow's 
flight  of  the  top,  when  turning  their  eyes  below,  they 
beheld  all  the  country  sunk  in  a  lake,  only  their  own 
house  left  standing.  While  they  gazed  with  wonder  at 
the  sight,  and  lamented  the  fate  of  their  neighbors,  that 
old  house  of  theirs  was  changed  into  a  temple.  Col- 
umns took  the  place  of  the  corner  posts,  the  thatch  grew 
yellow  and  appeared  a  gilded  roof,  the  floors  became 
marble,  the  doors  were  enriched  with  carving  and  orna- 
ments of  gold.  Then  spoke  Jupiter  in  benignant  accents : 
"Excellent  old  man,  and  woman  worthy  of  such  a  hus- 
band, speak,  tell  us  your  wishes ;  what  favor  have  you 


BAUCIS  AND  PHILEMON  31 

to  ask  of  us?"  Philemon  took  counsel  with  Baucis  a 
few  moments;  then  declared  to  the  gods  their  united 
wish.  "We  ask  to  be  priests  and  guardians  of  this  your 
temple ;  and  since  here  we  have  passed  our  lives  in  love 
and  concord,  we  wish  that  one  and  the  same  hour  may 
take  us  both  from  life,  that  I  may  not  live  to  see  her 
grave,  nor  be  laid  in  my  own  by  her."  Their  prayer  was 
granted.  They  were  the  keepers  of  the  temple  as  long 
as  they  lived.  When  grown  very  old,  as  they  stood  one 
day  before  the  steps  of  the  sacred  edifice,  and  were  telling 
the  story  of  the  place,  Baucis  saw  Philemon  begin  to 
put  forth  leaves,  and  old  Philemon  saw  Baucis  changing 
in  like  manner.  And  now  a  leafy  crown  had  grown 
over  their  heads,  while  exchanging  parting  words,  as 
long  as  they  could  speak.  "Farewell,  dear  spouse/'  they 
said,  together,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  bark  closed 
over  their  mouths.  The  Tyanean  shepherd  still  shows 
the  two  trees,  standing  side  by  side,  made  out  of  the 
two  good  old  people. 

The  story  of  Baucis  and  Philemon  has  been  imitated 
by  Swift,  in  a  burlesque  style,  the  actors  in  the  change 
being  two  wandering  saints,  and  the  house  being  changed 
into  a  church,  of  which  Philemon  is  made  the  parson. 
The  following  may  serve  as  a  specimen : 

"They  scarce  had  spoke,  when,  fair  and  soft, 
The  roof  began  to  mount  aloft; 
Aloft  rose  every  beam  and  rafter; 
The  heavy  wall  climbed  slowly  after. 
The  chimney  widened  and  grew  higher* 
Became  a  steeple  with  a  spire. 
The  kettle  to  the  top  was  hoist, 
And  there  stood  fastened  to  a  joist, 
But  with  the  upside  down,  to  show 
Its  inclination  for  below; 
In  vain,  for  a  superior  force, 
Applied  at  bottom,  stops  its  course; 
Doomed  ever  in  suspense  to  dwell, 
*Tis  now  no  kettle,  but  a  bell. 
A  wooden  jack,  which  had  almost 
Lost  by  disuse  the  art  to  roast, 
A  sudden  alteration  feels. 
Increased  by  new  intestine  wheels; 
And,  what  exalts  the  wonder  more. 


52    STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  number  made  the  motion  slower; 

The  flier,  though  't  had  leaden  feet, 

Turned  round  so  quick  you  scarce  could  see  't; 

But  slackened  by  some  secret  power, 

Now  hardly  moves  an  inch  an  hour. 

The  jack  and  chimney,  near  allied, 

Had  never  left  each  other's  side: 

The  chimney  to  a  steeple  grown, 

The  jack  would  not  be  left  alone; 

But  up  against  the  steeple  reared, 

Became  a  clock,    and  still  adhered; 

And  still  its  love  to  household  cares 

By  a  shrill  voice  at  noon  declares, 

Warning  the  cook-maid  not  to  burn 

That  roast  meat  which  it  cannot  turn ; 

The  groaning  chair  began  to  crawl, 

Like  a  huge  snail,  along  the  wall; 

There  stuck  aloft  in  public  view, 

And  with  small  change,  a  pulpit  grew. 

A  bedstead  of  the  antique  mode, 

Compact  of  timber  many  a  load, 

Such  as  our  ancestors  did  use, 

Was   metamorphosed   into   pews, 

Which  still  their  ancient  nature  keep 

By  lodging  folks  disposed  to  sleep." 


CHAPTER    VII 

PROSERPINE GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 

WHEN  Jupiter  and  his  brothers  had  defeated  the 
Titans  and  banished  them  to  Tartarus,  a  new  enemy 
rose  up  against  the  gods.  They  were  the  giants  Typhon, 
Briareus,  Enceladus,  and  others.  Some  of  them  had  a 
hundred  arms,  others  breathed  out  fire.  They  were 
finally  subdued  and  buried  alive  under  Mount  ^Etna, 
where  they  still  sometimes  struggle  to  get  loose,  and 
shake  the  whole  island  with  earthquakes.  Their  breath 
comes  up  through  the  mountain,  and  is  what  men  call 
the  eruption  of  the  volcano. 

The  fall  of  these  monsters  shook  the  earth,  so  that 
Pluto  was  alarmed,  and  feared  that  his  kingdom  would 
be  laid  open  to  the  light  of  day.  Under  this  apprehen- 
sion, he  mounted  his  chariot,  drawn  by  black  horses, 


PROSERPINE  53 

and  took  a  circuit  of  inspection  to  satisfy  himself  of 
the  extent  of  the  damage.  While  he  was  thus  engaged, 
Venus,  who  was  sitting  on  Mount  Eryx  playing  with 
her  boy  Cupid,  espied  him,  and  said,  "My  son,  take  your 
darts  with  which  you  conquer  all,  even  Jove  himself, 
and  send  one  into  the  breast  of  yonder  dark  monarch, 
who  rules  the  realm  of  Tartarus.  Why  should  he  alone 
escape?  Seize  the  opportunity  to  extend  your  empire 
and  mine.  Do  you  not  see  that  even  in  heaven  some 
despise  our  power?  Minerva  the  wise,  and  Diana  the 
huntress,  defy  us;  and  there  is  that  daughter  of  Ceres, 
who  threatens  to  follow  their  example.  Now  do  you, 
if  you  have  any  regard  for  your  own  interest  or  mine, 
join  these  two  in  one."  The  boy  unbound  his  quiver, 
and  selected  his  sharpest  and  truest  arrow ;  then  straining 
the  bow  against  his  knee,  he  attached  the  string,  and, 
having  made  ready,  shot  the  arrow  with  its  barbed  point 
right  into  the  heart  of  Pluto. 

In  the  vale  of  Enna  there  is  a  lake  embowered  in 
woods,  which  screen  it  from  the  fervid  rays  of  the  sun, 
while  the  moist  ground  is  covered  with  flowers,  and 
Spring  reigns  perpetual.  Here  Proserpine  was  playing 
with  her  companions,  gathering  lilies  and  violets,  and 
filling  her  basket  and  her  apron  with  them,  when  Pluto 
3aw  her,  loved  her,  and  carried  her  off.  She  screamed 
for  help  to  her  mother  and  companions;  and  when  in 
her  fright  she  dropped  the  corners  of  her  apron  and 
let  the  flowers  fall,  childlike  she  felt  the  loss  of  them 
as  an  addition  to  her  grief.  The  ravisher  urged  on  his 
steeds,  calling  them  each  by  name,  and  throwing  loose 
over  their  heads  and  necks  his  iron-colored  reins.  When 
he  reached  the  River  Cyane,  and  it  opposed  his  passage, 
he  struck  the  river-bank  with  his  trident,  and  the  earth 
opened  and  gave  him  a  passage  to  Tartarus. 

Ceres  sought  her  daughter  all  the  world  over.  Bright- 
haired  Aurora,  when  she  came  forth  in  the  morning, 
and  Hesperus  when  he  led  out  the  stars  in  the  evening, 
found  her  still  busy  in  the  search.  But  it  was  all  un- 
availing. At  length,  weary  and  sad,  she  sat  down  upon 
a  stone,  and  continued  sitting  nine  days  and  nights,  in 
the  open  air,  under  the  sunlight  and  moonlight  and  fall- 


54          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

ing  showers.  It  was  where  now  stands  the  city  of 
Eleusis,  then  the  home  of  an  old  man  named  Celeus. 
He  was  out  in  the  field,  gathering  acorns  and  black- 
berries, and  sticks  for  his  fire.  His  little  girl  was  driving 
home  their  two  goats,  and  as  she  passed  the  goddess, 
who  appeared  in  the  guise  of  an  old  woman,  she  said 
to  her,  "Mother," — and  the  name  was  sweet  to  the  ears 
of  Ceres, — "why  do  you  sit  here  alone  upon  the  rocks  ?" 
The  old  man  also  stopped,  though  his  load  was  heavy, 
and  begged  her  to  come  into  his  cottage,  such  as  it  was. 
She  declined,  and  he  urged  her.  "Go  in  peace,"  she 
replied,  "and  be  happy  in  your  daughter;  I  have  lost 
mine."  As  she  spoke,  tears — or  something  like  tears, 
for  the  gods  never  weep — fell  down  her  cheeks  upon 
her  bosom.  The  compassionate  old  man  and  his  child 
wept  with  her.  Then  said  he,  "Come  with  us,  and  de- 
spise not  our  humble  roof;  so  may  your  daughter  be 
restored  to  you  in  safety."  "Lead  on,"  said  she,  "I  can- 
not resist  that  appeal!"  So  she  rose  from  the  stone 
and  went  with  them.  As  they  walked  he  told  her  that 
his  only  son,  a  little  boy,  lay  very  sick,  feverish,  and 
sleepless.  She  stooped  and  gathered  some  poppies.  As 
they  entered  the  cottage,  they  found  all  in  great  distress, 
for  the  boy  seemed  past  hope  of  recovery.  Metaniri, 
his  mother,  received  her  kindly,  and  the  goddess  stoope^ 
and  kissed  the  lips  of  the  sick  child.  Instantly  the  pale- 
ness left  his  face,  and  healthy  vigor  returned  to  his  body. 
The  whole  family  were  delighted — that  is,  the  father, 
mother,  and  little  girl,  for  they  were  all;  they  had  no 
servants.  They  spread  the  table,  and  put  upon  it  curds 
and  cream,  apples,  and  honey  in  the  comb.  While  they 
ate,  Ceres  mingled  poppy  juice  in  the  milk  of  the  boy. 
When  night  came  and  all  was  still,  she  arose,  and  taking 
the  sleeping  boy,  moulded  his  limbs  with  her  hands,  and 
uttered  over  him  three  times  a  solemn  charm,  then  went 
and  laid  him  in  the  ashes.  His  mother,  who  had  been 
watching  what  her  guest  was  doing,  sprang  forward  with 
a  cry  and  snatched  the  child  from  the  fire.  Then  Ceres 
assumed  her  own  form,  and  a  divine  splendor  shone  all 
around.  While  they  were  overcome  with  astonishment, 
she  said,  "Mother,  you  have  been  cruel  in  your  fondness 


PROSERPINE  55 

to  your  son.  I  would  have  made  him  immortal,  but  you 
have  frustrated  my  attempt.  Nevertheless,  he  shall  be 
great  and  useful.  He  shall  teach  men  the  use  of  the 
plough,  and  the  rewards  which  labor  can  win  from  the 
cultivated  soil."  So  saying,  she  wrapped  a  cloud  about 
her,  and  mounting  her  chariot  rode  away. 

Ceres  continued  her  search  for  her  daughter,  passing 
from  land  to  land,  and  across  seas  and  rivers,  till  at 
length  she  returned  to  Sicily,  whence  she  at  first  set  out, 
and  stood  by  the  banks  of  the  River  Cyane,  where  Pluto 
made  himself  a  passage  with  his  prize  to  his  own  do- 
minions. The  river  nymph  would  have  told  the  goddess 
all  she  had  witnessed,  but  dared  not,  for  fear  of  Pluto ; 
so  she  only  ventured  to  take  up  the  girdle  which  Proser- 
pine had  dropped  in  her  flight,  and  waft  it  to  the  feet 
of  the  mother.  Ceres,  seeing  this,  was  no  longer  in 
doubt  of  her  loss,  but  she  did  not  yet  know  the  cause, 
and  laid  the  blame  on  the  innocent  land.  "Ungrateful 
soil,"  said  she,  "which  I  have  endowed  with  fertility 
and  clothed  with  herbage  and  nourishing  grain,  no  more 
shall  you  enjoy  my  favors."  Then  the  cattle  died,  the 
plough  broke  in  the  furrow,  the  seed  failed  to  come  up ; 
there  was  too  much  sun,  there  was  too  much  rain ;  the 
birds  stole  the  seeds — thistles  and  brambles  were  the 
only  growth.  Seeing  this,  the  fountain  Arethusa  inter- 
ceded for  the  land.  "Goddess,"  said  she,  "blame  not  the 
land;  it  opened  unwillingly  to  yield  a  passage  to  your 
daughter.  I  can  tell  you  of  her  fate,  for  I  have  seen 
her.  This  is  not  my  native  country ;  I  came  hither  from 
Elis.  I  was  a  woodland  nymph,  and  delighted  in  the 
chase.  They  praised  my  beauty,  but  I  cared  nothing 
for  it,  and  rather  boasted  of  my  hunting  exploits.  One 
day  I  was  returning  from  the  wood,  heated  with  exer- 
cise, when  I  came  to  a  stream  silently  flowing,  so  clear 
that  you  might  count  the  pebbles  on  the  bottom.  The 
willows  shaded  it,  and  the  grassy  bank  sloped  down  to 
the  water's  edge.  I  approached,  I  touched  the  water 
with  my  foot.  I  stepped  in  knee-deep,  and  not  content 
with  that,  I  laid  my  garments  on  the  willows  and  went 
in.  While  I  sported  in  the  water,  I  heard  an  indistinct 
murmur  coming  up  as  out  of  the  depths  of  the  stream: 


56          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  made  haste  to  escape  to  the  nearest  bank.  The 
voice  said,  'Why  do  you  fly,  Arethusa?  I  am  Alpheus, 
the  god  of  this  stream/  I  ran,  he  pursued;  he  was  not 
more  swift  than  I,  but  he  was  stronger,  and  gained  upon 
me,  as  my  strength  failed.  At  last,  exhausted,  I  cried 
for  help  to  Diana.  'Help  me,  goddess !  help  your  vo- 
tary !'  The  goddess  heard,  and  wrapped  me  suddenly  in 
a  thick  cloud.  The  river  god  looked  now  this  way  and 
now  that,  and  twice  came  close  to  me,  but  could  not 
find  me.  'Arethusa!  Arethusa !'  he  cried.  Oh,  how  I 
trembled, — like  a  lamb  that  hears  the  wolf  growling  out- 
side the  fold.  A  cold  sweat  came  over  me,  my  hair 
flowed  down  in  streams ;  where  my  foot  stood  there  was 
a  pool.  In  short,  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  I 
became  a  fountain.  But  in  this  form  Alpheus  knew  me 
and  attempted  to  mingle  his  stream  with  mine.  Diana 
cleft  the  ground,  and  I,  endeavoring  to  escape  him, 
plunged  into  the  cavern,  and  through  the  bowels  of 
the  earth  came  out  here  in  Sicily.  While  I  passed 
through  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  I  saw  your  Proser- 
pine. She  was  sad,  but  no  longer  showing  alarm  in  her 
countenance.  Her  look  was  such  as  became  a  queen — 
the  queen  of  Erebus ;  the  powerful  bride  of  the  monarch 
of  the  realms  of  the  dead." 

When  Ceres  heard  this,  she  stood  for  a  while  like  one 
stupefied;  then  turned  her  chariot  towards  heaven,  and 
hastened  to  present  herself  before  the  throne  of  Jove. 
She  told  the  story  of  her  bereavement,  and  implored 
Jupiter  to  interfere  to  procure  the  restitution  of  her 
daughter.  Jupiter  consented  on  one  condition,  namely, 
that  Proserpine  should  not  during  her  stay  in  the  lower 
world  have  taken  any  food;  otherwise,  the  Fates  for- 
bade her  release.  Accordingly,  Mercury  was  sent,  ac- 
companied by  Spring,  to  demand  Proserpine  of  Pluto. 
The  wily  monarch  consented ;  but,  alas !  the  maiden  had 
taken  a  pomegranate  which  Pluto  offered  her,  and  had 
sucked  the  sweet  pulp  from  a  few  of  the  seeds.  This 
was  enough  to  prevent  her  complete  release ;  but  a  com- 
promise was  made,  by  which  she  was  to  pass  half  the 
time  with  her  mother,  and  the  rest  with  her  husband 
Pluto. 


PROSERPINE  57 

Ceres  allowed  herself  to  be  pacified  with  this  arrange- 
ment, and  restored  the  earth  to  her  favor.  Now  she 
remembered  Celeus  and  his  family,  and  her  promise  to 
his  infant  son  Triptolemus.  When  the  boy  grew  up, 
she  taught  him  the  use  of  the  plough,  and  how  to  sow 
the  seed.  She  took  him  in  her  chariot,  drawn  by  winged 
dragons,  through  all  the  countries  of  the  earth,  imparting 
to  mankind  valuable  grains,  and  the  knowledge  of  agri- 
culture. After  his  return,  Triptolemus  built  a  magnifi- 
cent temple  to  Ceres  in  Eleusis,  and  established  the 
worship  of  the  goddess,  under  the  name  of  the  Eleu- 
sinian  mysteries,  which,  in  the  snlendor  and  solemnity 
of  their  observance,  surpassed  all  other  religious  cele- 
brations among  the  Greeks. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  of  this  story  of  Ceres  and 
Proserpine  being  an  allegory.  Proserpine  signifies  the 
seed-corn  which  when  cast  into  the  ground  lies  there 
concealed — that  is,  she  is  carried  off  by  the  god  of  the 
underworld.  It  reappears — that  is,  Proserpine  is  re- 
stored to  her  mother.  Spring  leads  her  back  to  the  light 
of  day. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Proserpine  in  "Paradise 
Lost,"  Book  IV.: 

".    .     .    Not  that  fair  field 
Of  Enna  where  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 
Herself  a  fairer  flower,  by  gloomy  Dis 
Was  gathered,  which  cost  Ceres  all  that  pain 
To  seek  her  through  the  world, — 
.    .    .    might  with  this  Paradise 
Of  Eden  strive." 

Hood,  in  his  "Ode  to  Melancholy,"  uses  the  same 
allusion  very  beautifully: 

"Forgive,  if  somewhile  I  forget, 

In  woe  to  come  the  present  bliss; 
As  frighted  Proserpine  let  fall 
Her  flowers  at  the  sight  of  Dis." 

The  River  Alpheus  does  in  fact  disappear  under- 
ground, in  part  of  its  course,  finding  its  way  through 


58         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

subterranean  channels  till  it  again  appears  on  the  sur- 
face. It  was  said  that  the  Sicilian  fountain  Arethusa 
was  the  same  stream,  which,  after  passing  under  the 
sea,  came  up  again  in  Sicily.  Hence  the  story  ran  that 
a  cup  thrown  into  the  Alpheus  appeared  again  in  Are- 
thusa. It  is  this  fable  of  the  underground  course  of 
Alpheus  that  Coleridge  alludes  to  in  his  poem  of  "Kubla 
Khan" : 

"In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure-dome  decree, 
Where  Alph,  the  sacred  river,  ran 
Through  caverns  measureless  to  man, 
Down  to  a  sunless  sea.'* 

In  one  of  Moore's  juvenile  poems  he  thus  alludes  to 
the  same  story,  and  to  the  practice  of  throwing  garlands 
or  other  light  objects  on  his  stream  to  be  carried  down- 
ward by  it,  and  afterwards  reproduced  at  its  emerging: 

"O  my  beloved,  how  divinely  sweet 
Is  the  pure  joy  when  kindred  spirits  meet! 
Like  him  the  river  god,  whose  waters  flow, 
With  love  their  only  light,  through  caves  below, 
Wafting  in  triumph  all  the  flowery  braids 
And  festal  rings,  with  which  Olympic  maids 
Have  decked  his  current,  as  an  offering  meet 
To  lay  at  Arethusa's  shining  feet. 
Think,  when  he  meets  at  last  his  fountain  bride, 
What  perfect  love  must  thrill  the  blended  tide ! 
Each  lost  in  each,  till  mingling  into  one, 
Their  lot  the  same  for  shadow  or  for  sun, 
A  type  of  true  love,  to  the  deep  they  run." 

The  following  extract  from  Moore's  "Rhymes  on  the 
Road"  gives  an  account  of  a  celebrated  picture  by  Al- 
bano,  at  Milan,  called  a  Dance  of  Loves: 

"'Tis  for  the  theft  of  Enna's  flower  from  earth 
These  urchins  celebrate  their  dance  of  mirth, 
Round  the  green  tree,  like  fays  upon  a  heath; — 

Those  that  are  nearest  linked  in  order  bright, 
Cheek  after  cheek,  like  rosebuds  in  a  wreath; 
And  those  more  distant  showing  from  beneath 

The  others'  wings  their  little  eyes  of  light. 
While  see!  among  the  clouds,  their  eldest  brother, 

But  just  flown  up,  tells  with  a  smile  of  bliss, 
This  prank  of  Pluto  to  his  charmed  mother, 

Who  turns  to  greet  the  tidings  with  a  kiss." 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA  59 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA 

Glaucus  was  a  fisherman.  One  day  he  had  drawn  his 
nets  to  land,  and  had  taken  a  great  many  fishes  of  vari- 
ous kinds.  So  he  emptied  his  net,  and  proceeded  to 
sort  the  fishes  on  the  grass.  The  place  where  he  stood 
was  a  beautiful  island  in  the  river,  a  solitary  spot,  unin- 
habited, and  not  used  for  pasturage  of  cattle,  nor  ever 
visited  by  any  but  himself.  On  a  sudden,  the  fishes, 
which  had  been  laid  on  the  grass,  began  to  revive  and 
move  their  fins  as  ir  they  were  in  the  water;  and  while 
he  looked  on  astonished,  they  one  and  all  moved  off  to 
the  water,  plunged  in,  and  swam  away.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  make  of  this,  whether  some  god  had  done 
it  or  some  secret  power  in  the  herbage.  "What  herb 
has  such  a  power  ?"  he  exclaimed ;  and  gathering  some 
of  it,  he  tasted  it.  Scarce  had  the  juices  of  the  plant 
reached  his  palate  when  he  found  himself  agitated  with 
a  longing  desire  for  the  water.  He  could  no  longer 
restrain  himself,  but  bidding  farewell  to  earth,  he 
plunged  into  the  stream.  The  gods  of  the  water  re- 
ceived him  graciously,  and  admitted  him  to  the  honor 
of  their  society.  They  obtained  the  consent  of  Oceanus 
and  Tethys,  the  sovereigns  of  the  sea.  that  all  that  was 
mortal  in  him  should  be  washed  away.  A  hundred 
rivers  poured  their  waters  over  him.  Then  he  lost  all 
sense  of  his  former  nature  and  all  consciousness.  When 
he  recovered,  he  found  himself  changed  in  form  and 
mind.  His  hair  was  sea-green,  and  trailed  behind  him 
on  the  water;  his  shoulders  grew  broad,  and  what  had 
been  thighs  and  legs  assumed  the  form  of  a  fish's  tail. 
The  sea-gods  complimented  him  on  the  change  of  his 
appearance,  and  he  fancied  himself  rather  a  good-looking 
personage. 

One  day  Glaucus  saw  the  beautiful  maiden  Scylla,  the 
favorite  of  the  water-nymphs,  rambling  on  the  shore, 
and  when  she  had  found  a  sheltered  nook,  laving  her 
limbs  in  the  clear  water.  He  fell  in  love  with  her,  and 
showing  himself  on  the  surface,  spoke  to  her,  saying 
such  things  as  he  thought  most  likely  to  win  her  to  stay ; 
for  she  turned  to  run  immediately  on  the  sight  of  him, 


60         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  ran  till  she  had  gained  a  cliff  overlooking  the  sea. 
Here  she  stopped  and  turned  round  to  see  whether  it  was 
a  god  or  a  sea  animal,  and  observed  with  wonder  his 
shape  and  color.  Glaucus  partly  emerging  from  the 
water,  and  supporting  himself  against  a  rock,  said, 
"Maiden,  I  am  no  monster,  nor  a  sea  animal,  but  a  god ; 
and  neither  Proteus  nor  Triton  ranks  higher  than  I. 
Once  I  was  a  mortal,  and  followed  the  sea  for  a  living; 
but  now  I  belong  wholly  to  it."  Then  he  told  the  story 
of  his  metamorphosis,  and  how  he  had  been  promoted  to 
his  present  dignity,  and  added,  "But  what  avails  all  this 
if  it  fails  to  move  your  heart?"  He  was  going  on  in 
this  strain,  but  Scylla  turned  and  hastened  away. 

Glaucus  was  in  despair,  but  it  occurred  to  him  to  con- 
sult the  enchantress  Circe.  Accordingly  he  repaired  to 
her  island — the  same  where  afterwards  Ulysses  landed, 
as  we  shall  see  in  one  of  our  later  stories.  After  mutual 
salutations,  he  said,  "Goddess,  I  entreat  your  pity;  you 
alone  can  relieve  the  pain  I  suffer.  The  power  of  herbs 
I  know  as  well  as  any  one,  for  it  is  to  them  I  owe  my 
change  of  form.  I  love  Scylla.  I  am  ashamed  to  tell 
you  how  I  have  sued  and  promised  to  her,  and  how 
scornfully  she  has  treated  rne.  I  beseech  you  to  use 
your  incantations,  or  potent  herbs,  if  they  are  more  pre- 
vailing, not  to  cure  me  of  my  love, — for  that  I  do  not 
wish, — but  to  make  her  share  it  and  yield  me  a  like  re- 
turn." To  which  Circe  replied,  for  she  was  not  insensible 
to  the  attractions  of  the  sea-green  deity,  "You  had  better 
pursue  a  willing  object;  you  are  worthy  to  be  sought, 
instead  of  having  to  seek  m  vain.  Be  not  diffident,  know 
your  own  worth.  I  protest  to  you  that  even  I,  goddess 
though  I  be,  and  learned  in  the  virtues  of  plants  and 
spells,  should  not  know  how  to  refuse  you.  If  she 
scorns  you  scorn  her;  meet  one  who  is  ready  to  meet 
you  half  way,  and  thus  make  a  due  return  to  both  at 
once."  To  these  words  Glsucus  replied,  "Sooner  shall 
trees  grow  at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and  sea-weed  on 
the  top  of  the  mountains,  than  I  will  cease  to  love  Scylla, 
and  her  alone." 

The  goddess  was  indignant,  but  she  could  not  punish 
him,  neither  did  she  wish  to  do  so,  for  she  liked  him  too 


GLAUCUS  AND  SCYLLA  61 

well ;  so  she  turned  all  her  wrath  against  her  rival,  poor 
Scylla.  She  took  plants  of  poisonous  powers  and 
mixed  them  together,  with  incantations  and  charms. 
Then  she  passed  through  the  crowd  of  gambolling 
beasts,  the  victims  of  her  art,  and  proceeded  to  the  coast 
of  Sicily,  where  Scylla  lived.  There  was  a  little  bay  on 
the  shore  to  which  Scylla  used  to  resort,  in  the  heat  of 
the  day,  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  sea,  and  to  bathe  in  its 
waters.  Here  the  goddess  poured  her  poisonous  mix- 
ture, and  muttered  over  it  incantations  of  mighty  power. 
Scylla  came  as  usual  and  plunged  into  the  water  up  to 
her  waist.  What  was  her  horror  to  perceive  a  brood  of 
serpents  and  barking  monsters  surrounding  her!  At 
first  she  could  not  imagine  they  were  a  part  of  herself, 
and  tried  to  run  from  them,  and  to  drive  them  away ;  but 
as  she  ran  she  carried  them  with  her,  and  when  she  tried 
to  touch  her  limbs,  she  found  her  hands  touch  only  the 
yawning  jaws  of  monsters.  Scylla  remained  rooted  to 
the  spot.  Her  temper  grew  as  ugly  as  her  form,  and  she 
took  pleasure  in  devouring  hapless  mariners  who  came 
within  her  grasp.  Thus  she  destroyed  six  of  the  com- 
panions of  Ulysses,  and  tried  to  wreck  the  ships  of 
^Eneas,  till  at  last  she  was  turned  into  a  rock,  and  as  such 
still  continues  to  be  a  terror  to  mariners. 

Keats,  in  his  "Endymion,"  has  given  a  new  version  of 
the  ending  of  "Glaucus  and  Scylla."  Glaucus  consents 
to  Circe's  blandishments,  till  he  by  chance  is  witness  to 
her  transactions  with  her  beasts.1  Disgusted  with  her 
treachery  and  cruelty,  he  tries  to  escape  from  her,  but 
is  taken  and  brought  back,  when  with  reproaches  she 
banishes  him,  sentencing  him  to  pass  a  thousand  years 
in  decrepitude  and  pain.  He  returns  to  the  sea,  and 
there  finds  the  body  of  Scylla,  whom  the  goddess  has 
not  transformed  but  drowned.  Glaucus  learns  that  his 
destiny  is  that,  if  he  passes  his  thousand  years  in 
collecting  all  the  bodies  of  drowned  lovers,  a  youth  be- 
loved of  the  gods  will  appear  and  help  him.  Endymion 
fulfils  this  prophecy,  and  aids  in  restoring  Glaucus  to 
youth,  and  Scylla  and  all  the  drowned  lovers  to  life. 

1  See  page  241.  , 


62         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  following  is  Glaucus's  account    of  his  feelings 
after  his  "sea-change" : 

"I  plunged  for  life  or  death.    To  interknit 
One's  senses  with  so  dense  a  breathing  stuff 
Might  seem  a  work  of  pain;  so  not  enough 
Can  I  admire  how  crystal-smooth  it  felt, 
And  buoyant  round  my  limbs.     At  first  I  dwelt 
Whole  days  and  days  in  sheer  astonishment; 
Forgetful  utterly  of  self -intent, 
Moving  but  with  the  mighty  ebb  and  flow. 
Then  like  a  new-fledged  bird  that  first  doth  show 
His  spreaded  feathers  to  the  morrow  chill, 
I  tried  in  fear  the  pinions  of  my  will. 
'Twas  freedom !  and  at  once  I  visited 
The  ceaseless  wonders  of  this  ocean-bed,"  etc. 

—Keats. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PYGMALION DRYOPE — VENUS    AND    ADONIS — APOLLO    AND 

HYACINTHUS 

PYGMALION  saw  so  much  to  blame  in  women  that 
he  came  at  last  to  abhor  the  sex,  and  resolved  to  live 
unmarried.  He  was  a  sculptor,  and  had  made  with 
wonderful  skill  a  statue  of  ivory,  so  beautiful  that  no 
living  woman  came  anywhere  near  it.  It  was  indeed 
the  perfect  semblance  of  a  maiden  that  seemed  to  be 
alive,  and  only  prevented  from  moving  by  modesty. 
His  art  was  so  perfect  that  it  concealed  itself  and  its 
product  looked  like  the  workmanship  of  nature.  Pyg- 
malion admired  his  own  work,  and  at  last  fell  in  love 
with  the  counterfeit  creation.  Oftentimes  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  it  as  if  to  assure  himself  whether  it  were 
living  or  not,  and  could  not  even  then  believe  that  it 
was  only  ivory.  He  caressed  it,  and  gave  it  presents 
such  as  young  girls  love, — bright  shells  and  polished 
stones,  little  birds  and  flowers  of  various  hues,  beads 
and  amber.  He  put  raiment  on  its  limbs,  and  jewels  on 
its  fingers,  and  a  necklace  about  its  neck.  To  the  ears 
be  hung  earrings  and  strings  of  pearls  upon  the  breast. 
Her  dress  became  her,  and  she  looked  not  less  charming 


PYGMALION  63 

than  when  unattired.  He  laid  her  on  a  couch  spread 
with  cloths  of  Tyrian  dye,  and  called  her  his  wife,  and 
put  her  head  upon  a  pillow  of  the  softest  feathers,  as  if 
she  could  enjoy  their  softness. 

The  festival  of  Venus  was  at  hand — a  festival  cele- 
brated with  great  pomp  at  Cyprus.  Victims  were 
offered,  the  altars  smoked,  and  the  odor  of  incense  filled 
the  air.  When  Pygmalion  had  performed  his  part  in  the 
solemnities,  he  stood  before  the  altar  and  timidly  said, 
"Ye  gods,  who  can  do  all  things,  give  me,  I  pray  you, 
for  my  wife" — he  dared  not  say  "my  ivory  virgin/'  but 
said  instead — "one  like  my  ivory  virgin."  Venus,  who 
was  present  at  the  festival,  heard  him  and  knew  the 
thought  he  would  have  uttered;  and  as  an  omen  of  her 
favor,  caused  the  flame  on  the  altar  to  shoot  up  thrice 
in  a  fiery  point  into  the  air.  When  he  returned  home, 
he  went  to  see  his  statue,  and  leaning  over  the  couch, 
gave  a  kiss  to  the  mouth.  It  seemed  to  be  warm.  He 
pressed  its  lips  again,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  limbs ; 
the  ivory  felt  soft  to  his  touch  and  yielded  to  his  fingers 
like  the  wax  of  Hymettus.  While  he  stands  astonished 
and  glad,  though  doubting,  and  fears  he  may  be  mis- 
taken, again  and  again  with  a  lover's  ardor  he  touches 
the  object  of  his  hopes.  It  was  indeed  alive !  The  veins 
when  pressed  yielded  to  the  finger  and  again  resumed 
their  roundness.  Then  at  last  the  votary  of  Venus 
found  words  to  thank  the  goddess,  and  pressed  his  lips 
upon  lips  as  real  as  his  own.  The  virgin  felt  the  kisses 
and  blushed,  and  opening  her  timid  eyes  to  the  light, 
fixed  them  at  the  same  moment  on  her  lover.  Venus 
blessed  the  nuptials  she  had  formed,  and  from  this  union 
Paphos  was  born,  from  whom  the  city,  sacred  to  Venus, 
received  its  name. 

Schiller,  in  his  poem  the  "Ideals,"  applies  this  tale  of 
Pygmalion  to  the  love  of  nature  in  a  youthful  heart. 
The  following  translation  is  furnished  by  a  friend: 

"As  once  with  prayers  in  passion  flowing, 

Pygmalion  embraced  the  stone, 
Till  from  the  frozen  marble  glowing, 
The  light  of  feeling  o'er  him  shone, 


64    STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

So  did  I  clasp  with  young  devotion 

Bright  nature  to  a  poet  s  heart ; 
Till  breath  and  warmth  and  vital  motion 

Seemed  through  the  statue  form  to  dart 

"And  then,  in  all  my  ardor  sharing, 

The  silent  form  expression  found ; 
Returned  my  kiss  of  youthful  daring, 

And  understood  my  heart's  quick  sound. 
Then  lived  for  me  the  bright  creation, 

The  silver  rill  with  song  was  rife; 
The  trees,  the  roses  shared  sensation, 
An  echo  of  my  boundless  life." 

—S.  G.  B. 


DRYOPE 

Dryope  and  lole  were  sisters.  The  former  was  the 
wife  of  Andraemon,  beloved  by  her  husband,  and  happy 
in  the  birth  of  her  first  child.  One  day  the  sisters 
strolled  to  the  bank  of  a  stream  that  sloped  gradually 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  while  the  upland  was  over- 
grown with  myrtles.  They  were  intending  to  gather 
flowers  for  forming  garlands  for  the  altars  of  the 
nymphs,  and  Dryope  carried  her  child  at  her  bosom, 
precious  burden,  and  nursed  him  as  she  walked.  Near 
the  water  grew  a  lotus  plant,  full  of  purple  flowers. 
Dryope  gathered  some  and  offered  them  to  the  baby,  and 
lole  was  about  to  do  the  same,  when  she  perceived  blood 
dropping  from  the  places  where  her  sister  had  broken 
them  off  the  stem.  The  plant  was  no  other  than  the 
nymph  Lotis,  who,  running  from  a  base  pursuer,  had 
been  changed  into  this  form.  This  they  learned  from 
the  country  people  when  it  was  too  late. 

Dryope,  horror-struck  when  she  perceived  what  she 
had  done,  would  gladly  have  hastened  from  the  spot, 
but  found  her  feet  rooted  to  the  ground.  She  tried  to 
pull  them  away,  but  moved  nothing  but  her  upper  limbs. 
The  woodiness  crept  upward,  and  by  degrees  invested 
her  body.  In  anguish  she  attempted  to  tear  her  hair,  but 
found  her  hands  filled  with  leaves.  The  infant  felt  his 
mother's  bosom  begin  to  harden,  and  the  milk  cease  to 
flow.  lole  looked  on  at  the  sad  fate  of  her  sister,  and 
could  render  no  assistance.  She  embraced  the  growing 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  65 

trunk,  as  if  she  would  hold  back  the  advancing  wood, 
and  would  gladly  have  been  enveloped  in  the  same  bark. 
At  this  moment  Andraemon,  the  husband  of  Dryope, 
with  her  father,  approached;  and  when  they  asked  for 
Dryope,  lole  pointed  them  to  the  new-formed  lotus. 
They  embraced  the  trunk  of  the  yet  warm  tree,  and 
showered  their  kisses  on  its  leaves. 

Now  there  was  nothing  left  of  Dryope  but  her  face. 
Her  tears  still  flowed  and  fell  on  her  leaves,  and  while 
she  could  she  spoke.  "I  am  not  guilty.  I  deserve  not 
this  fate.  I  have  injured  no  one.  If  I  speak  falsely, 
may  my  foliage  perish  with  drought  and  my  trunk  be 
cut  down  and  burned.  Take  this  infant  and  give  it  to  a 
nurse.  Let  it  often  be  brought  and  nursed  under  my 
branches,  and  play  in  my  shade;  and  when  he  is  old 
enough  to  talk,  let  him  be  taught  to  call  me  mother,  and 
to  say  with  sadness,  'My  mother  lies  hid  under  this  bark.' 
But  bid  him  be  careful  of  river  banks,  and  beware  how 
he  plucks  flowers,  remembering  that  every  bush  he  sees 
may  be  a  goddess  in  disguise.  Farewell,  dear  husband, 
and  sister,  and  father.  If  you  retain  any  love  for  me, 
let  not  the  axe  wound  me,  nor  the  flocks  bite  and  tear 
my  branches.  Since  I  cannot  stoop  to  you,  climb  up 
hither  and  kiss  me;  and  while  my  lips  continue  to  feel, 
lift  up  my  child  that  I  may  kiss  him.  I  can  speak  no 
more,  for  already  the  bark  advances  up  my  neck,  and 
will  soon  shoot  over  me.  You  need  not  close  my  eyes, 
the  bark  will  close  them  without  your  aid."  Then  the 
lips  ceased  to  move,  and  life  was  extinct;  but  the 
branches  retained  for  some  time  longer  the  vital  heat. 

Keats,  in  "Endymion,"  alludes  to  Dryope  thus: 

"She  took  a  lute  from  which  there  pulsing  came 
A  lively  prelude,  fashioning  the  way 
In  which  her  voice  should  wander.    'T  was  a  lay 
More  subtle-cadenced,  more  forest-wild 
Than  Dryope' s  lone  lulling  of  her  child;"  etc. 

VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Venus,  playing  one  day  with  her  boy  Cupid,  wounded 
her  bosom  with  one  of  his  arrows.  She  pushed  him 


66         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

away,  but  the  wound  was  deeper  than  she  thought.  Be- 
fore it  healed  she  beheld  Adonis,  and  was  captivated  with 
him.  She  no  longer  took  any  interest  in  her  favor- 
ite resorts — Paphos,  and  Cnidos,  and  Amathos,  rich  in 
metals.  She  absented  herself  even  from  heaven,  for 
Adonis  was  dearer  to  her  than  heaven.  Him  she 
followed  and  bore  him  company.  She  who  used  to 
love  to  recline  in  the  shade,  with  no  care  but  to  culti- 
vate her  charms,  now  rambles  through  the  woods  and 
over  the  hills,  dressed  like  the  huntress  Diana ;  and  calls 
her  dogs,  and  chases  hares  and  stags,  or  other  game 
that  it  is  safe  to  hunt,  but  keeps  clear  of  the  wolves  and 
bears,  reeking  with  the  slaughter  of  the  herd.  She 
charged  Adonis,  too,  to  beware  of  such  dangerous  ani- 
mals. "Be  brave  towards  the  timid,"  said  she;  "courage 
against  the  courageous  is  not  safe.  Beware  how  you 
expose  yourself  to  danger  and  put  my  happiness  to  risk. 
Attack  not  the  beasts  that  Nature  has  armed  with  weap- 
ons. I  do  not  value  your  glory  so  high  as  to  consent  to 
purchase  it  by  such  exposure.  Your  youth,  and  the 
beauty  that  charms  Venus,  will  not  touch  the  hearts  of 
lions  and  bristly  boars.  Think  of  their  terrible  claws 
and  prodigious  strength !  I  hate  the  whole  race  of  them. 
Do  you  ask  me  why?"  Then  she  told  him  the  story  of 
Atalanta  and  Hippomenes,  who  were  changed  into  lions 
for  their  ingratitude  to  her. 

Having  given  him  this  warning,  she  mounted  her 
chariot  drawn  by  swans,  and  drove  away  through  the 
air.  But  Adonis  was  too  noble  to  heed  such  counsels. 
The  dogs  had  roused  a  wild  boar  from  his  lair,  and  the 
youth  threw  his  spear  and  wounded  the  animal  with  a 
sidelong  stroke.  The  beast  drew  out  the  weapon  with 
his  jaws,  and  rushed  after  Adonis,  who  turned  and  ran ; 
but  the  boar  overtook  him,  and  buried  his  tusks  in  his 
side,  and  stretched  him  dying  upon  the  plain. 

Venus,  in  her  swan-drawn  chariot,  had  not  yet 
reached  Cyprus,  when  she  heard  coming  up  through  mid- 
air the  groans  of  her  beloved,  and  turned  her  white- 
winged  coursers  back  to  earth.  As  she  drew  near  and 
saw  from  on  high  his  lifeless  body  bathed  in  blood,  she 
alighted  and,  bending  over  it,  beat  her  breast  and  tore 


APOLLO  AND  HYACINTHUS  67 

her  hair.  Reproaching  the  Fates,  she  said,  "Yet  theirs 
shall  be  but  a  partial  triumph;  memorials  of  my 
grief  shall  endure,  and  the  spectacle  of  your  death,  my 
Adonis,  and  of  my  lamentations  shall  be  annually  re- 
newed. Your  blood  shall  be  changed  into  a  flower;  that 
consolation  none  can  envy  me."  Thus  speaking,  she 
sprinkled  nectar  on  the  blood;  and  as  they  mingled, 
bubbles  rose  as  in  a  pool  on  which  raindrops  fall,  and 
in  an  hour's  time  there  sprang  up  a  flower  of  bloody  hue 
like  that  of  the  pomegranate.  But  it  is  short-lived.  It 
is  said  the  wind  blows  the  blossoms  open,  and  after- 
wards blows  the  petals  away;  so  it  is  called  Anemone,  or 
Wind  Flower,  from  the  cause  which  assists  equally  in  its 
production  and  its  decay. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Venus  and  Adonis  in 
his  "Comus" : 

"Beds  of  hyacinth  and  roses 
Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 
Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound 
In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 
Sadly  sits  th'  Assyrian  queen;"  etc. 


APOLLO  AND   HYACINTHUS 

Apollo  was  passionately  fond  of  a  youth  named  Hy- 
acinthus.  He  accompanied  him  in  his  sports,  carried 
the  nets  when  he  went  fishing,  led  the  dogs  when  he 
went  to  hunt,  followed  him  in  his  excursions  in  the 
mountains,  and  neglected  for  him  his  lyre  and  his  ar- 
rows. One  day  they  played  a  game  of  quoits  together, 
and  Apollo,  heaving  aloft  the  discus,  with  strength 
mingled  with  skill,  sent  it  high  and  far.  Hyacinthus 
watched  it  as  it  flew,  and  excited  with  the  sport  ran 
forward  to  seize  it,  eager  to  make  his  throw,  when  the 
quoit  bounded  from  the  earth  and  struck  him  in  the 
forehead.  He  fainted  and  fell.  The  god,  as  pale  as 
himself,  raised  him  and  tried  all  his  art  to  stanch  the 
wound  and  retain  the  flitting  life,  but  all  in  vain;  the 
hurt  was  past  the  power  of  medicine.  As  when  one  has 
broken  the  stem  of  a  lily  in  the  garden  it  hangs  its  head 


68         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  turns  its  flowers  to  the  earth,  so  the  head  of  the 
dying  boy,  as  if  too  heavy  for  his  neck,  fell  over  on  his 
shoulder.  "Thou  diest,  Hyacinth,"  so  spoke  Phoebus, 
"robbed  of  thy  youth  by  me.  Thine  is  the  suffering, 
mine  the  crime.  Would  that  I  could  die  for  thee !  But 
since  that  may  not  be,  thou  shalt  live  with  me  in  memory 
and  in  song.  My  lyre  shall  celebrate  thee,  my  song  shall 
tell  thy  fate,  and  thou  shalt  become  a  flower  inscribed 
with  my  regrets/'  While  Apollo  spoke,  behold  the 
blood  which  had  flowed  on  the  ground  and  stained  the 
herbage  ceased  to  be  blood;  but  a  flower  of  hue  more 
beautiful  than  the  Tyrian  sprang  up,  resembling  the  lily, 
if  it  were  not  that  this  is  purple  and  that  silvery  white.1 
And  this  was  not  enough  for  Phoebus;  but  to  confer 
still  greater  honor,  he  marked  the  petals  with  his  sorrow, 
and  inscribed  "Ah!  ah!"  upon  them  as  we  see  to  this 
day.  The  flower  bears  the  name  of  Hyacinthus,  and 
with  every  returning  spring  revives  the  memory  of  his 
fate. 

It  was  said  that  Zephyrus  (the  West  wind),  who  was 
also  fond  of  Hyacinthus  and  jealous  of  his  preference 
of  Apollo,  blew  the  quoit  out  of  its  course  to  make  it 
strike  Hyacinthus.  Keats  alludes  to  this  in  his  "Endym- 
ion,"  where  he  describes  the  lookers-on  at  the  game 
of  quoits: 

"Or  they  might  watch  the  quoit-pitchers,  intent 

On  either  side,  pitying  the  sad  death 

Of  Hyacinthus,  when  the  cruel  breath 
Of  Zephyr  slew  him;  Zephyr  penitent, 
Who  now  ere  Phoebus  mounts  the  firmament, 

Fondles  the  flower  amid  the  sobbing  rain." 

An  allusion  to  Hyacinthus  will  also  be  recognized 
in  Milton's  "Lycidas" : 

"Like  to  that  sanguine  flower  inscribed  with  woe." 

1  It  is  evidently  not  our  modern  hyacinth  that  is  here  described.  It  is 
perhaps  some  species  of  iris,  or  perhaps  of  larkspur  or  of  pansy. 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE  69 

CHAPTER    IX 
CEYX  AND  HALCYONE:  OR,  THE  HALCYON  BIRDS 

CEYX  was  king  of  Thessaly,  where  he  reigned  in  peace, 
without  violence  or  wrong.  He  was  son  of  Hesperus, 
the  Day-star,  and  the  glow  of  his  beauty  reminded  one 
of  his  father.  Halcyone,  the  daughter  of  ^Eolus,  was 
his  wife,  and  devotedly  attached  to  him.  Now  Ceyx  was 
in  deep  affliction  for  the  loss  of  his  brother,  and  direful 
prodigies  following  his  brother's  death  made  him  feel  as 
if  the  gods  were  hostile  to  him.  He  thought  best,  there- 
fore, to  make  a  voyage  to  Carlos  in  Ionia,  to  consult  the 
oracle  of  Apollo.  But  as  soon  as  he  disclosed  his  inten- 
tion to  his  wife  Halcyone,  a  shudder  ran  through  her 
frame,  and  her  face  grew  deadly  pale.  "What  fault  of 
mine,  dearest  husband,  has  turned  your  affection  from 
me  ?  Where  is  that  love  of  me  that  used  to  be  uppermost 
in  your  thoughts  ?  Have  you  learned  to  feel  easy  in  the 
absence  of  Halcyone?  Would  you  rather  have  me 
away?"  She  also  endeavored  to  discourage  him,  by  de- 
scribing the  violence  of  the  winds,  which  she  had  known 
familiarly  when  she  lived  at  home  in  her  father's 
house, — JEolus  being  the  god  of  the  winds,  and  having 
as  much  as  he  could  do  to  restrain  them.  "They  rush 
together,"  said  she,  "with  such  fury  that  fire  flashes 
from  the  conflict.  But  if  you  must  go,"  she  added, 
"dear  husband,  let  me  go  with  you,  otherwise  I  shall 
suffer  not  only  the  real  evils  which  you  must  encounter, 
but  those  also  which  my  fears  suggest." 

These  words  weighed  heavily  on  the  mind  of  King 
Ceyx,  and  it  was  no  less  his  own  wish  than  hers  to 
take  her  with  him,  but  he  could  not  bear  to  expose  her 
to  the  dangers  of  the  sea.  He  answered,  therefore,  con- 
soling her  as  well  as  he  could,  and  finished  with  these 
words:  "I  promise,  by  the  rays  of  my  father  the  Day- 
star,  that  if  fate  permits  I  will  return  before  the  moon 
shall  have  twice  rounded  her  orb."  When  he  had  thus 
spoken,  he  ordered  the  vessel  to  be  drawn  out  of  the 


70         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

shiphouse,  and  the  oars  and  sails  to  be  put  aboard. 
When  Haley  one  saw  these  preparations  she  shuddered, 
as  if  with  a  presentiment  of  evil.  With  tears  and  sobs 
she  said  farewell,  and  then  fell  senseless  to  the  ground. 

Ceyx  would  still  have  lingered,  but  now  the  young 
men  grasped  their  oars  and  pulled  vigorously  through 
the  waves,  with  long  and  measured  strokes.  Haley  one 
raised  her  streaming  eyes,  and  saw  her  husband  stand- 
ing on  the  deck,  waving  his  hand  to  her.  She  answered 
his  signal  till  the  vessel  had  receded  so  far  that  she 
could  no  longer  distinguish  his  form  from  the  rest. 
When  the  vessel  itself  could  no  more  be  seen,  she 
strained  her  eyes  to  catch  the  last  glimmer  of  the  sail, 
till  that  too  disappeared.  Then,  retiring  to  her  chamber, 
r>he  threw  herself  on  her  solitary  couch. 

Meanwhile  they  glide  out  of  the  harbor,  and  the 
breeze  plays  among  the  ropes.  The  seamen  draw  in 
their  oars,  and  hoist  their  sails.  When  half  or  less  of 
their  course  was  passed,  as  night  drew  on,  the  sea  be- 
gan to  whiten  with  swelling  waves,  and  the  east  wiiH 
to  blow  a  gale.  The  master  gave  the  word  to  take  in 
sail,  but  the  storm  forbade  obedience,  for  such  is  the 
roar  of  the  winds  and  waves  his  orders  are  unheard. 
The  men,  cf  their  own  accord,  busy  themselves  to  se- 
iure  the  oars,  to  strengthen  the  ship,  to  reef  the  sail. 
While  they  thus  do  what  to  each  one  seems  best,  the 
storm  increases.  The  shouting  of  the  men,  the  rattling 
of  the  shrouds,  and  the  dashing  of  the  waves,  mingle 
with  the  roar  of  the  thunder.  The  swelling  sea  seems 
lifted  up  to  the  heavens,  to  scatter  its  foam  among  the 
clouds;  then  sinking  away  to  the  bottom  assumes  the 
color  of  the  shoal — a  Stygian  blackness. 

The  vessel  shares  all  these  changes.  It  seems  like 
a  wild  beast  that  rushes  on  the  spears  of  the  hunters, 
Rain  falls  in  torrents,  as  if  the  skies  were  coming  down 
to  unite  with  the  sea.  When  the  lightning  ceases  for 
a  moment,  the  night  seems  to  add  its  own  darkness  to 
that  of  the  storm;  then  comes  the  flash,  rending  the 
darkness  asunder,  and  lighting  up  all  with  a  glare.  Skill 
fails,  courage  sinks,  and  death  seems  to  come  on  every 
wave.  The  men  are  stupefied  with  terror.  The  thought 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE  71 

of  parents,  and  kindred,  and  pledges  left  at  home,  comes 
over  their  minds.  Ceyx  thinks  of  Halcyone.  No  name 
but  hers  is  on  his  lips,  and  while  he  yearns  for  her, 
he  yet  rejoices  in  her  absence.  Presently  the  mast  is 
shattered  by  a  stroke  of  lightning,  the  rudder  broken, 
and  the  triumphant  surge  curling  over  looks  down  upon- 
the  wreck,  then  falls,  and  crushes  it  to  fragments.  Some 
of  the  seamen,  stunned  by  the  stroke,  sink,  and  rise  no 
more ;  others  cling  to  fragments  of  the  wreck.  Ceyx, 
with  the  hand  that  used  to  grasp  the  sceptre,  holds  fast 
to  a  plank,  calling  for  help, — alas,  in  vain, — upon  his 
father  and  his  father-in-law.  But  oftenest  on  his  lipi 
was  the  name  of  Halcyone.  To  her  his  thoughts  cling. 
He  prays  that  the  waves  may  bear  his  body  to  her  sight, 
and  that  it  may  receive  burial  at  her  hands.  At  length 
the  waters  overwhelm  him,  and  he  sinks.  The  Day- 
star  looked  dim  that  night.  Since  it  could  not  leave 
the  heavens,  it  shrouded  its  face  with  clouds. 

In  the  meanwhile  Halcyone,  ignorant  of  all  these  hor- 
rors, counted  the  days  till  her  husband's  promised  re- 
turn. Now  she  gets  ready  the  garments  which  he  shall 
put  on,  and  now  what  she  shall  wear  when  he  arrives. 
To  all  the  gods  she  offers  frequent  incense,  but  more 
than  all  to  Juno.  For  her  husband,  who  was  no  more, 
she  prayed  incessantly:  that  he  might  be  safe;  that  he 
might  come  home:  that  he  might  not,  in  his  absence, 
see  any  one  that  he  would  love  better  than  her.  But 
of  all  these  prayers,  the  last  was  the  only  one  destined 
to  be  granted.  The  goddess,  at  length,  could  not  bear 
any  longer  to  be  pleaded  with  for  one  already  dead, 
and  to  have  hands  raised  to  her  altars  that  ought  rather 
to  be  offering  funeral  rites.  So,  calling  Iris,  she  said, 
"Iris,  my  faithful  messenger,  go  to  the  drowsy  dwell- 
ing of  Somnus,  and  tell  him  to  send  a  vision  to  Halcy- 
one in  the  form  of  Ceyx,  to  make  known  to  her  the 
event." 

Iris  puts  on  her  robe  of  many  colors,  and  tingeing 
the  sky  with  her  bow,  seeks  the  palace  of  the  King  of 
Sleep.  Near  the  Cimmerian  country,  a  mountain  cave 
is  the  abode  of  the  dull  god  Somnus.  Here  Phoebus 
dares  not  come,  either  rising,  at  midday,  or  setting. 


72         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Clouds  and  shadows  are  exhaled  from  the  ground,  and 
the  light  glimmers  faintly.  The  bird  of  dawning,  with 
crested  head,  never  there  calls  aloud  to  Aurora,  nor 
watchful  dog,  nor  more  sagacious  goose  disturbs  the 
silence.  No  wild  beast,  nor  cattle,  nor  branch  moved 
with  the  wind,  nor  sound  of  human  conversation,  breaks 
the  stillness.  Silence  reigns  there;  but  from  the  bottom 
of  the  rock  the  River  Lethe  flows,  and  by  its  murmur 
invites  to  sleep.  Poppies  grow  abundantly  before  the 
door  of  the  cave,  and  other  herbs,  from  whose  juices 
Night  collects  slumbers,  which  she  scatters  over  the 
darkened  earth.  There  is  no  gate  to  the  mansion,  to 
creak  on  its  hinges,  nor  any  watchman ;  but  in  the  midst 
a  couch  of  black  ebony,  adorned  with  black  plumes  and 
black  curtains.  There  the  god  reclines,  his  limbs  re- 
laxed with  sleep.  Around  him  lie  dreams,  resembling 
all  various  forms,  as  many  as  the  harvest  bears  stalks, 
or  the  forest  leaves,  or  the  seashore  sand  grains. 

As  soon  as  the  goddess  entered  and  brushed  away 
the  dreams  that  hovered  around  her,  her  brightness  lit 
up  all  the  cave.  The  god,  scarce  opening  his  eyes,  and 
ever  and  anon  dropping  his  beard  upon  his  breast,  at 
last  shook  himself  free  from  himself,  and  leaning  on 
his  arm,  inquired  her  errand, — for  he  knew  who  she  was. 
She  answered,  "Somnus,  gentlest  of  the  gods,  tranquil- 
lizer of  minds  and  soother  of  care-worn  hearts,  Juno 
sends  you  her  commands  that  you  despatch  a  dream  to 
Halcyone,  in  the  city  of  Trachine,  representing  her  lost 
husband  and  all  the  events  of  the  wreck." 

Having  delivered  her  message,  Iris  hasted  away,  for 
she  could  not  longer  endure  the  stagnant  air,  and  as 
she  felt  drowsiness  creeping  over  her,  she  made  her 
escape,  and  returned  by  her  bow  the  way  she  came. 
Then  Somnus  called  one  of  his  numerous  sons, — Mor- 
pheus,— the  most  expert  in  counterfeiting  forms,  and 
in  imitating  the  walk,  the  countenance,  and  mode  of 
speaking,  even  the  clothes  and  attitudes  most  charac- 
teristic of  each.  But  he  only  imitates  men,  leaving  it 
to  another  to  personate  birds,  beasts,  and  serpents.  Him 
they  call  Icelos ;  and  Phantasos  is  a  third,  who  turns 
himself  into  rocks,  waters,  woods,  and  other  things  with- 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE  73 

put  life.  These  wait  upon  kings  and  great  personages 
in  their  sleeping  hours,  while  others  move  among  the 
common  people.  Somnus  chose,  from  all  the  brothers, 
Morpheus,  to  perform  the  command  of  Iris;  then  laid 
his  head  on  his  pillow  and  yielded  himself  to  grateful 
repose. 

Morpheus  flew,  making  no  noise  with  his  wings,  and 
soon  came  to  the  Hsemonian  city,  where,  laying  aside  his 
wings,  he  assumed  the  form  of  Ceyx.  Under  that  form, 
but  pale  like  a  dead  man,  naked,  he  stood  before  the 
couch  of  the  wretched  wife.  His  beard  seemed  soaked 
with  water,  and  water  trickled  from  his  drowned  locks. 
Leaning  over  the  bed,  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  he 
said,  "Do  you  recognize  your  Ceyx,  unhappy  wife,  or 
has  death  too  much  changed  my  visage?  Behold  me, 
know  me,  your  husband's  shade,  instead  of  himself. 
Your  prayers,  Haley  one,  availed  me  nothing.  I  am 
dead.  No  more  deceive  yourself  with  vain  hopes  of 
my  return.  The  stormy  winds  sunk  my  ship  in  the 
^)gean  Sea,  waves  filled  my  mouth  while  it  called  aloud 
on  you.  No  uncertain  messenger  tells  you  this,  no  vague 
rumor  brings  it  to  your  ears.  I  come  in  person,  a 
shipwrecked  man,  to  tell  you  my  fate.  Arise!  give  me 
tears,  give  me  lamentations,  let  me  not  go  down  to  Tar- 
tarus unwept."  To  these  words  Morpheus  added  the 
voice,  which  seemed  to  be  that  of  her  husband;  he 
seemed  to  pour  forth  genuine  tears;  his  hands  had  the 
gestures  of  Ceyx. 

Halcyone,  weeping,  groaned,  and  stretched  out  her 
arms  in  her  sleep,  striving  to  embrace  his  body,  but 
grasping  only  the  air.  "Stay!"  she  cried;  "whither  do 
you  fly?  let  us  go  together."  Her  own  voice  awakened 
her.  Starting  up,  she  gazed  eagerly  around,  to  see  if 
he  was  still  present,  for  the  servants,  alarmed  by  her 
cries,  had  brought  a  light.  When  she  found  him  not, 
she  -smote  her  breast  and  rent  her  garments.  She  cares 
not  to  unbind  her  hair,  but  tears  it  wildly.  Her  nurse 
asks  what  is  the  cause  of  her  grief.  "Halcyone  is  no 
more,"  she  answers,  "she  perished  with  her  Ceyx.  Utter 
not  words  of  comfort,  he  is  shipwrecked  and  dead.  I 
have  seen  him,  I  have  recognized  him.  I  stretched  out 


74         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

my  hands  to  seize  him  and  detain  him.  His  shade  van- 
ished, but  it  was  the  true  shade  of  my  husband.  Not 
with  the  accustomed  features,  not  with  the  beauty  that 
was  his,  but  pale,  naked,  and  with  his  hair  wet  with 
sea-water,  he  appeared  to  wretched  me.  Here,  in  this 
very  spot,  the  sad  vision  stood," — and  she  looked  to  find 
the  mark  of  his  footsteps.  'This  it  was,  this  that  my 
presaging  mind  foreboded,  when  I  implored  him  not  to 
leave  me,  to  trust  himself  to  the  waves.  Oh,  how  I 
wish,  since  thou  wouldst  go,  thou  hadst  taken  me  with 
thee!  It  would  have  been  far  better.  Then  I  should 
have  had  no  remnant  of  life  to  spend  without  thee,  nor 
a  separate  death  to  die.  If  I  could  bear  to  live  and 
struggle  to  endure,  I  should  be  more  cruel  to  myself 
than  the  sea  has  been  to  me.  But  I  will  not  struggle,  I 
will  not  be  separated  from  thee,  unhappy  husband.  This 
time,  at  least,  I  will  keep  thee  company.  In  death,  if 
one  tomb  may  not  include  us,  one  epitaph  shall ;  if  I 
may  not  lay  my  ashes  with  thine,  my  name,  at  least, 
shall  not  be  separated."  Her  grief  forbade  more  words, 
and  these  were  broken  with  tears  and  sobs. 

It  was  now  morning.  She  went  to  the  seashore,  and 
sought  the  spot  where  she  last  saw  him,  on  his  departure. 
"While  he  lingered  here,  and  cast  off  his  tacklings,  he 
gave  me  his  last  kiss."  While  she  reviews  every  object, 
and  strives  to  recall  every  incident,  looking  put  over  the 
sea,  she  descries  an  indistinct  object  floating  in  the  water. 
At  first  she  was  in  doubt  what  it  was,  but  by  degrees  the 
waves  bore  it  nearer,  and  it  was  plainly  the  body  of  a 
man.  Though  unknowing  of  whom,  yet,  as  it  was  of 
some  shipwrecked  one,  she  was  deeply  moved,  and  gave 
it  her  tears,  saying,  "Alas !  unhappy  one,  and  unhappy, 
if  such  there  be,  thy  wife !"  Borne  by  the  waves,  it 
came  nearer.  As  she  more  and  more  nearly  views  it, 
she  trembles  more  and  more.  Now,  now  it  approaches 
the  shore.  Now  marks  that  she  recognizes  appear.  It 
is  her  husband!  Stretching  out  her  trembling  hands 
towards  it,  she  exclaims,  "O  dearest  husband,  is  it  thus 
you  return  to  me?" 

There  was  built  out  from  the  shore  a  mole,  constructed 
to  break  the  assaults  of  the  sea,  and  stem  its  violent 


CEYX  AND  HALCYONE  75 

ingress.  She  leaped  upon  this  barrier  and  (it  was  won- 
derful she  could  do  so)  she  flew,  and  striking  the  air 
with  wings  produced  on  the  instant,  skimmed  along  the 
surface  of  the  water,  an  unhappy  bird.  As  she  flew, 
her  throat  poured  forth  sounds  full  of  grief,  and  like 
the  voice  of  one  lamenting.  When  she  touched  the  mute 
and  bloodless  body,  she  enfolded  its  beloved  limbs  with 
her  new-formed  wings,  and  tried  to  give  kisses  with 
her  horny  beak.  Whether  Ceyx  felt  it,  or  whether  it 
was  only  the  action  of  the  waves,  those  who  looked  on 
doubted,  but  the  body  seemed  to  raise  its  head.  But 
indeed  he  did  feel  it,  and  by  the  pitying  gods  both  of 
them  were  changed  into  birds.  They  mate  and  have 
their  young  ones.  For  seven  placid  days,  in  winter 
time,  Halcyone  broods  over  her  nest,  which  floats  upon 
the  sea.  Then  the  way  is  safe  to  seamen.  ^Eolus  guards 
the  winds  and  keeps  them  from  disturbing  the  deep. 
The  sea  is  given  up,  for  the  time,  to  his  grandchildren. 

The  following  lines  from  Byron's  "Bride  of  Abydos" 
might  seem  borrowed  from  the  concluding  part  of  this 
description,  if  it  were  not  stated  that  the  author  derived 
the  suggestion  from  observing  the  motion  of  a  floating 
corpse : 

"As  shaken  on  his  restless  pillow, 
His  head  heaves  with  the  heaving  billow, 
That  hand,  whose  motion  is  not  life, 
Yet  feebly  serins  to  menace  strife, 
Flung  by  the  tossing  tide  on  high, 
Then  levelled  with  the  wave    .    .    ." 


Milton  in  his  "Hymn  on  the  Nativity,"  thus  alludes 
to  the  fable  of  the  Halcyon: 

"But  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began; 
The  winds  with  wonder  whist 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist 

Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 
Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave." 


76         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Keats,  also,  in  "Endymion,"  says: 

"O  magic  sleep !  O  comfortable  bird 
That  broodest  o'er  the  troubled  sea  of  the  mind 
Till  it  is  hushed  and  smooth." 


CHAPTER    X 

VERTUMNUS    AND    POMONA 

THE  Hamadryads  were  Wood-nymphs.  Pomona  was 
of  this  class,  and  no  one  excelled  her  in  love  of  the 
garden  and  the  culture  of  fruit.  She  cared  not  for 
forests  and  rivers,  but  loved  the  cultivated  country,  and 
trees  that  bear  delicious  apples.  Her  right  hand  bore 
for  its  weapon  not  a  javelin,  but  a  pruning-knife.  Armed 
with  this,  she  busied  herself  at  one  time  to  repress  the 
too  luxuriant  growths,  and  curtail  the  branches  that 
straggled  out  of  place ;  at  another,  to  split  the  twig  and 
insert  therein  a  graft,  making  the  branch  adopt  a  nurs- 
ling not  its  own.  She  took  care,  too,  that  her  favorites 
should  not  suffer  from  drought,  and  led  streams 
of  water  by  them,  that  the  thirsty  roots  might  drink. 
This  occupation  was  her  pursuit,  her  passion;  and  she 
was  free  from  that  which  Venus  inspires.  She  was 
not  without  fear  of  the  country  people,  and  kept  her 
orchard  locked,  and  allowed  not  men  to  enter.  The 
Fauns  and  Satyrs  would  have  given  all  they  possessed  to 
win  her,  and  so  would  old  Sylvanus,  who  looks  young 
for  his  years,  and  Pan,  who  wears  a  garland  of  pine 
leaves  around  his  head.  But  Vertumnus  loved  her  best 
of  all;  yet  he  sped  no  better  than  the  rest.  O  how 
often,  in  the  disguise  of  a  reaper,  did  he  bring  her  corn 
in  a  basket,  and  looked  the  very  image  of  a  reaper! 
With  a  hay  band  tied  round  him,  one  would  think  he 
had  just  come  from  turning  over  the  grass.  Sometimes 
he  would  have  an  ox-goad  in  his  hand,  and  you  would 
have  said  he  had  just  unyoked  his  weary  oxen.  Now 
he  bore  a  pruning-hook,  and  personated  a  vine-dresser; 


VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA  77 

and  again,  with  a  ladder  on  his  shoulder,  he  seemed 
as  if  he  was  going  to  gather  apples.  Sometimes  he 
trudged  along  as  a  discharged  soldier,  and  again  he 
bore  a  fishing-rod,  as  if  going  to  fish.  In  this  way  he 
gained  admission  to  her  again  and  again,  and  fed  his 
passion  with  the  sight  of  her. 

One  day  he  came  in  the  guise  of  an  old  woman,  her 
gray  hair  surmounted  with  a  cap,  and  a  staff  in  her 
hand.  She  entered  the  garden  and  admired  the  fruit. 
"It  does  you  credit,  my  dear,"  she  said,  and  kissed  her, 
not  exactly  with  an  old  woman's  kiss.  She  sat  down 
on  a  bank,  and  looked  up  at  the  branches  laden  with 
fruit  which  hung  over  her.  Opposite  was  an  elm  en- 
twined with  a  vine  loaded  with  swelling  grapes.  She 
praised  the  tree  and  its  associated  vine,  equally.  "But," 
said  she,  "if  the  tree  stood  alone,  and  had  no  vine  cling- 
ing to  it,  it  would  have  nothing  to  attract  or  offer  us 
but  its  useless  leaves.  And  equally  the  vine,  if  it  were 
not  twined  round  the  elm,  would  lie  prostrate  on  the 
ground.  Why  will  you  not  take  a  lesson  from  the  tree 
and  the  vine,  and  consent  to  unite  yourself  with  some 
one?  I  wish  you  would.  Helen  herself  had  not  more 
numerous  suitors,  nor  Penelope,  the  wife  of  shrewd 
Ulysses.  Even  while  you  spurn  them,  they  court  you, — 
rural  deities  and  others  of  every  kind  that  frequent 
these  mountains.  But  if  you  are  prudent  and  want  to 
make  a  good  alliance,  and  will  let  an  old  woman  advise 
you, — who  loves  you  better  than  you  have  any  idea  of, 
— dismiss  all  the  rest  and  accept  Vertumnus,  on  my 
recommendation.  I  know  him  as  well  as  he  knows  him- 
self. He  is  not  a  wandering  deity,  but  belongs  to  these 
mountains.  Nor  is  he  like  too  many  of  the  lovers  now- 
adays, who  love  any  one  they  happen  to  see;  he  loves 
you,  and  you  only.  Add  to  this,  he  is  young  and  hand- 
some, and  has  the  art  of  assuming  any  shape  he  pleases, 
and  can  make  himself  just  what  you  command  him. 
Moreover,  he  loves  the  same  things  that  you  do,  de- 
lights in  gardening,  and  handles  your  apples  with  ad- 
miration. But  now  he  cares  nothing  for  fruits  nor 
flowers,  nor  anything  else,  but  only  yourself.  Take  pity 
on  him,  and  fancy  him  speaking  now  with  my  mouth, 


78         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Remember  that  the  gods  punish  cruelty,  and  that  Venus 
hates  a  hard  heart,  and  will  visit  such  offences  sooner 
or  later.  To  prove  this,  let  me  tell  you  a  story,  which 
is  well  known  in  Cyprus  to  be  a  fact ;  and  I  hope  it 
will  have  the  effect  to  make  you  more  merciful. 

"Iphis  was  a  young  man  of  humble  parentage,  who 
saw  and  loved  Anaxarete,  a  noble  lady  of  the  ancient 
family  of  Teucer.  He  struggled  long  with  his  passion, 
but  when  he  found  he  could  not  subdue  it,  he  came  a 
suppliant  to  her  mansion.  First  he  told  his  passion  to 
her  nurse,  a..d  begged  her  as  she  loved  her  foster-child 
to  favor  his  suit.  And  then  he  tried  to  win  her  do- 
mestics to  his  side.  Sometimes  he  committed  his  vows 
to  written  tablets,  and  often  hung  at  her  door  garlands 
which  he  had  moistened  with  his  tears.  He  stretched 
himself  on  her  threshold,  and  uttered  his  complaints  to 
the  cruel  bolts  and  bars.  She  was  deafer  than  the 
surges  which  rise  in  the  November  gale;  harder  than 
steel  from  the  German  forges,  or  a  rock  that  still  clings 
to  its  native  cliff.  She  mocked  and  laughed  at  him, 
adding  cruel  words  to  her  ungentle  treatment,  and  gave 
not  the  slightest  gleam  of  hope. 

"Iphis  could  not  any  longer  endure  the  torments  of 
hopeless  love,  and,  standing  before  her  doors,  he  spake 
these  last  words :  'Anaxarete,  you  have  conquered,  and 
shall  no  longer  have  to  bear  my  importunities.  Enjoy 
your  triumph!  Sing  songs  of  joy,  and  bind  your  fore- 
head with  laurel, — you  have  conquered!  I  die;  stony 
heart,  rejoice!  This  at  least  I  can  do  to  gratify  you 
and  force  you  to  praise  me;  and  thus  shall  I  prove 
that  the  love  of  you  left  me  but  with  life.  Nor  will 
I  leave  it  to  rumor  to  tell  you  of  my  death.  I  will 
come  myself,  and  you  shall  see  me  die,  and  feast  your 
eyes  on  the  spectacle.  Yet,  O  ye  gods,  who  look  down 
on  mortal  woes,  observe  my  fate!  I  ask  but  this:  let 
me  be  remembered  in  coming  ages,  and  add  those  years 
to  my  fame  which  you  have  reft  from  my  life.'  Thus 
he  said,  and,  turning  his  pale  face  and  weeping  eyes 
towards  her  mansion,  he  fastened  a  rope  to  the  gate- 
post, on  which  he  had  often  hung  garlands,  and  putting 
his  head  into  the  noose,  he  murmured,  This  garland  at 


VERTUMNUS  AND  POMONA  79 

least  will  please  you,  cruel  girl'/  and  falling  hung  sus- 
pended with  his  neck  broken.  As  he  fell  he  struck 
against  the  gate,  and  the  sound  was  as  the  sound  of  a 
groan.  The  servants  opened  the  door  and  found  him 
dead,  and  with  exclamations  of  pity  raised  him  and 
carried  him  home  to  his  mother,  for  his  father  was 
not  living.  She  received  the  dead  body  of  her  son,  and 
folded  the  cold  form  to  her  bosom,  while  she  poured 
forth  the  sad  words  which  bereaved  mothers  utter.  The 
mournful  funeral  passed  through  the  town,  and  the  pale 
corpse  was  borne  on  a  bier  to  the  place  of  the  funeral 
pile.  By  chance  the  home  of  Anaxarete  was  on  the 
street  where  the  procession  passed,  and  the  lamentations 
of  the  mourners  met  the  ears  of  her  whom  the  avenging 
deity  had  already  marked  for  punishment. 

"  'Let  us  see  this  sad  procession,'  said  she,  and 
mounted  to  a  turret,  whence  through  an  open  window 
she  looked  upon  the  funeral.  Scarce  had  her  eyes  rested 
upon  the  form  of  Iphis  stretched  on  the  bier,  when 
they  began  to  stiffen,  and  the  warm  blood  in  her  body 
to  become  cold.  Endeavoring  to  step  back,  she  found 
she  could  not  move  her  feet;  trying  to  turn  away  her 
face,  she  tried  in  vain;  and  by  degrees  all  her  limbs 
became  stony  like  her  heart.  That  you  may  not  doubt 
the  fact,  the  statue  still  remains,  and  stands  in  the 
temple  of  Venus  at  Salamis,  in  the  exact  form  of  the 
lady.  Now  think  of  these  things,  my  dear,  and  lay 
aside  your  scorn  and  your  delays,  and  accept  a  lover. 
So  may  neither  the  vernal  frosts  blight  your  young 
fruits,  nor  furious  winds  scatter  your  blossoms !" 

When  Vertumnus  had  spoken  thus,  he  dropped  the 
disguise  of  an  old  woman,  and  stood  before  her  in  his 
proper  person,  as  a  comely  youth.  It  appeared  to  her 
like  the  sun  bursting  through  a  cloud.  He  would  have 
renewed  his  entreaties,  but  there  was  no  need ;  his  argu- 
ments and  the  sight  of  his  true  form  prevailed,  and 
the  Nymph  no  longer  resisted,  but  owned  a  mutual 
flame. 

Pomona  was  the  especial  patroness  of  the  Apple- 
orchard,  and  as  such  she  was  invoked  by  Phillips,  the 


80         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

author  of  a  poem  on  Cider,  in  blank  verse.    Thomson 
in  the  "Seasons"  alludes  to  him: 

"Phillips,  Pomona's  bard,  the  second  thou 
Who  nobly  durst,  in  rhyme-unfettered  verse, 
With  British  freedom,  sing  the  British  song." 

But   Pomona   was   also   regarded   as   presiding   over 
other  fruits,  and  as  such  is  invoked  by  Thomson: 

"Bear  me,  Pomona,  to  thy  citron  groves, 
To  where  the  lemon  and  the  piercing  lime, 
With  the  deep  orange,  glowing  through  the  green, 
Their  lighter  glories  blend.     Lay  me  reclined 
Beneath  the  spreading  tamarind,  that  shakes, 
Fanned  by  the  breeze,  its  fever-cooling  fruit." 


CHAPTER   XI 

CUPID    AND    PSYCHE 

A  CERTAIN  king  and  queen  had  three  daughters.  The 
charms  of  the  two  elder  were  more  than  common,  but 
the  beauty  of  the  youngest  was  so  wonderful  that  the 
poverty  of  language  is  unable  to  express  its  due  praise. 
The  fame  of  her  beauty  was  so  great  that  strangers 
from  neighboring  countries  came  in  crowds  to  enjoy 
the  sight,  and  looked  on  her  with  amazement,  paying  her 
that  homage  which  is  due  only  to  Venus  herself.  In 
fact  Venus  found  her  altars  deserted,  while  men  turned 
their  devotion  to  this  young  virgin.  As  she  passed 
along,  the  people  sang  her  praises,  and  strewed  her  way 
with  chaplets  and  flowers. 

This  perversion  of  homage  due  only  to  the  immortal 
powers  to  the  exaltation  of  a  mortal  gave  great  offence 
to  the  real  Venus.  Shaking  her  ambrosial  locks  with 
indignation,  she  exclaimed,  "Am  I  then  to  be  eclipsed 
in  my  honors  by  a  mortal  girl?  In  vain  then  did  that 
royal  shepherd,  whose  judgment  was  approved  by  Jove 
himself,  give  me  the  palm  of  beauty  over  my  illustrious 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE  81 

rivals,  Pallas  and  Juno.  But  she  shall  not  so  quietly 
usurp  my  honors.  I  will  give  her  cause  to  repent  of  so 
unlawful  a  beauty." 

Thereupon  she  calls  her  winged  son  Cupid,  mischiev- 
ous enough  in  his  own  nature,  and  rouses  and  provokes 
him  yet  more  by  her  complaints.  She  points  out  Psyche 
to  him  and  says,  "My  dear  son,  punish  that  contumacious 
beauty;  give  thy  mother  a  revenge  as  sweet  as  her  in- 
juries are  great;  infuse  into  the  bosom  of  that  haughty 
girl  a  passion  for  some  low,  mean,  unworthy  being,  so 
that  she  may  reap  a  mortification  as  great  as  her  present 
exultation  and  triumph." 

Cupid  prepared  to  obey  the  commands  of  his  mother. 
There  are  two  fountains  in  Venus's  garden,  one  of 
sweet  waters,  the  other  of  bitter.  Cupid  filled  two  am- 
ber vases,  one  from  each  fountain,  and  suspending  them 
from  the  top  of  his  quiver,  hastened  to  the  chamber 
of  Psyche,  whom  he  found  asleep.  He  shed  a  few 
drops  from  the  bitter  fountain  over  her  lips,  though  the 
sight  of  her  almost  moved  him  to  pity ;  then  touched 
her  side  with  the  point  of  his  arrow.  At  the  touch 
she  awoke,  and  opened  eyes  upon  Cupid  (himself  in- 
visible), which  so  startled  him  that  in  his  confusion 
he  wounded  himself  with  his  own  arrow.  Heedless  of 
his  wound,  his  whole  thought  now  was  to  repair  the 
mischief  he  had  done,  and  he  poured  the  balmy  drops 
of  joy  over  all  her  silken  ringlets. 

Psyche,  henceforth  frowned  upon  by  Venus,  derived 
no  benefit  from  all  her  charms.  True,  all  eyes  were 
cast  eagerly  upon  her,  and  every  mouth  spoke  her  praises ; 
but  neither  king,  royal  youth,  nor  plebeian  presented 
himself  to  demand  her  in  marriage.  Her  two  elder 
sisters  of  moderate  charms  had  now  long  been  married 
to  two  royal  princes;  but  Psyche,  in  her  lonely  apart- 
ment, deplored  her  solitude,  sick  of  that  beauty  which, 
while  it  procured  abundance  of  flattery,  had  failed  to 
awaken  love. 

Her  parents,  afraid  that  they  had  unwittingly  incurred 
the  anger  of  the  gods,  consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo, 
and  received  this  answer:  "The  virgin  is  destined  for 
the  bride  of  no  mortal  Jover.  Her  future  husband  awaits 


82         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

her  on  the  top  of  the  mountain.  He  is  a  monster  whom 
neither  gods  nor  men  can  resist." 

This  dreadful  decree  of  the  oracle  filled  all  the  people 
with  dismay,  and  her  parents  abandoned  themselves  to 
grief.  But  Psyche  said,  "Why,  my  dear  parents,  do 
you  now  lament  me?  You  should  rather  have  grieved 
when  the  people  showered  upon  me  undeserved  honors, 
and  with  one  voice  called  me  a  Venus.  I  now  perceive 
that  I  am  a  victim  to  that  name.  I  submit.  Lead  me 
to  that  rock  to  which  my  unhappy  fate  has  destined  me." 
Accordingly,  all  things  being  prepared,  the  royal  maid 
took  her  place  in  the  procession,  which  more  resembled 
a  funeral  than  a  nuptial  pomp,  and  with  her  parents, 
amid  the  lamentations  of  the  people,  ascended  the  moun- 
tain, on  the  summit  of  which  they  left  her  alone,  and 
with  sorrowful  hearts  returned  home. 

While  Psyche  stood  on  the  ridge  of  the  mountain, 
panting  with  fear  and  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  the  gentle 
Zephyr  raised  her  from  the  earth  and  bore  her  with  an 
easy  motion  into  a  flowery  dale.  By  degrees  her  mind 
became  composed,  and  she  laid  herself  down  on  the 
grassy  bank  to  sleep.  When  she  awoke  refreshed  with 
sleep,  she  looked  round  and  beheld  near  by  a  pleasant 
grove  of  tall  and  stately  trees.  She  entered  it,  and  in 
the  midst  discovered  a  fountain,  sending  forth  clear  and 
crystal  waters,  and  fast  by,  a  magnificent  palace  whose 
august  front  impressed  the  spectator  that  it  was  not  the 
work  of  mortal  hands,  but  the  happy  retreat  of  some 
god.  Drawn  by  admiration  and  wonder,  she  approached 
the  building  and  ventured  to  enter.  Every  object  she 
met  filled  her  with  pleasure  and  amazement.  Golden 
pillars  supported  the  vaulted  roof,  and  the  walls  were 
enriched  with  carvings  and  paintings  representing  beasts 
of  the  chase  and  rural  scenes,  adapted  to  delight  the 
eye  of  the  beholder.  Proceeding  onward,  she  perceived 
that  besides  the  apartments  of  state  there  were  others 
filled  with  all  manner  of  treasures,  and  beautiful  and 
precious  productions  of  nature  and  art. 

While  her  eyes  were  thus  occupied,  a  voice  addressed 
her,  though  she  saw  no  one,  uttering  these  words :  "Sov- 
ereign lady,  all  that  you  see  is  yours.  We  whose  voices 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE  83 

you  hear  are  your  servants  and  shall  obey  all  your  com- 
mands with  our  utmost  care  and  diligence.  Retire, 
therefore,  to  your  chamber  and  repose  on  your  bed  of 
down,  and  when  you  see  fit  repair  to  the  bath.  Supper 
awaits  you  in  the  adjoining  alcove  when  it  pleases  you 
to  take  your  seat  there." 

Psyche  gave  ear  to  the  admonitions  of  her  vocal  at- 
tendants, and  after  repose  and  the  refreshment  of  the 
bath,  seated  herself  in  the  alcove,  where  a  table  imme- 
diately presented  itself,  without  any  visible  aid  from 
waiters  or  servants,  and  covered  with  the  greatest  deli- 
cacies of  food  and  the  most  nectareous  wines.  Her  ears 
too  were  feasted  with  music  from  invisible  performers ; 
of  whom  one  sang,  another  played  on  the  lute,  and  all 
closed  in  the  wonderful  harmony  of  a  full  chorus. 

She  had  not  yet  seen  her  destined  husband.  He  came 
only  in  the  hours  of  darkness  and  fled  before  the  dawn 
of  morning,  but  his  accents  were  full  of  love,  and  in- 
spired a  like  passion  in  her.  She  often  begged  him  to 
stay  and  let  her  behold  him,  but  he  would  not  consent. 
Oh  the  contrary  he  charged  her  to  make  no  attempt 
to  see  him,  for  it  was  his  pleasure,  for  the  best  of  rea- 
sons, to  keep  concealed.  "Why  should  you  wish  to 
behold  me?"  he  said;  "have  you  any  doubt  of  my  love? 
have  you  any  wish  ungratified?  If  you  saw  me,  per- 
haps you  would  fear  me,  perhaps  adore  me,  but  all  1 
ask  of  you  is  to  love  me.  I  would  rather  you  would 
love  me  as  an  equal  than  adore  me  as  a  god." 

This  reasoning  somewhat  quieted  Psyche  for  a  time, 
and  while  the  novelty  lasted  she  felt  quite  happy.  But 
at  length  the  thought  of  her  parents,  left  in  ignorance 
of  her  fate,  and  of  her  sisters,  precluded  from  sharing 
with  her  the  delights  of  her  situation,  preyed  on  her 
mind  and  made  her  begin  to  feel  her  palace  as  but  a 
splendid  prison.  When  her  husband  came  one  night, 
she  told  him  her  distress,  and  at  last  drew  from  him  an 
unwilling  consent  that  her  sisters  should  be  brought  to 
see  her. 

So,  calling  Zephyr,  she  acquainted  him  with  her  hus- 
band's commands,  and  he,  promptly  obedient,  soon 
brought  them  across  the  mountain  down  to  their  sis- 


84         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

ter's  valley.  They  embraced  her  and  she  returned  their 
caresses.  "Come,"  said  Psyche,  "enter  with  me  my 
house  and  refresh  yourselves  with  whatever  your  sister 
has  to  offer."  Then  taking  their  hands  she  led  them 
into  her  golden  palace,  and  committed  them  to  the  care 
of  her  numerous  train  of  attendant  voices,  to  refresh 
them  in  her  baths  and  at  her  table,  and  to  show  them 
all  her  treasures.  The  view  of  these  celestial  delights 
caused  envy  to  enter  their  bosoms,  at  seeing  their  young 
sister  possessed  of  such  state  and  splendor,  so  much 
exceeding  their  own. 

They  asked  her  numberless  questions,  among  others 
what  sort  of  a  person  her  husband  was.  Psyche  replied 
that  he  was  a  beautiful  youth,  who  generally  spent  the 
daytime  in  hunting  upon  the  mountains.  The  sisters, 
not  satisfied  with  this  reply,  soon  made  her  confess  that 
she  had  never  seen  him.  Then  thev  proceeded  to  fill  her 
bosom  with  dark  suspicions.  "Call  to  mind,"  they  said, 
"the  Pythian  oracle  that  declared  you  destined  to  marry 
a  direful  and  tremendous  monster.  The  inhabitants  of 
this  valley  say  that  your  husband  is  a  terrible  and  mon- 
strous serpent,  who  nourishes  you  for  a  while  with 
dainties  that  he  may  by  and  by  devour  you.  Take  pur 
advice.  Provide  yourself  with  a  lamp  and  a  sharp  knife ; 
put  them  in  concealment  that  your  husband  may  not 
discover  them,  and  when  he  is  sound  asleep,  slip  out  of 
bed,  bring  forth  your  lamp,  and  see  for  yourself  whether 
what  they  say  is  true  or  not.  If  it  is,  hesitate  not  to 
cut  off  the  monster's  head,  and  thereby  recover  your 
liberty." 

Psyche  resisted  these  persuasions  as  well  as  she  could, 
but  they  did  not  fail  to  have  their  effect  on  her  mind,  and 
when  her  sisters  were  gone,  their  words  and  her  own 
curiosity  were  too  strong  for  her  to  resist.  So  she 
prepared  her  lamp  and  a  sharp  knife,  and  hid  them  out 
of  sight  of  her  husband.  When  he  had  fallen  into  his 
first  sleep,  she  silently  rose  and  uncovering  her  lamp  be- 
held not  a  hideous  monster,  but  the  most  beautiful  and 
charming  of  the  gods,  with  his  golden  ringlets  wandering 
over  his  snowy  neck  and  crimson  cheek,  with  two  dewy 
wings  on  his  shoulders,  whiter  than  snow,  and  with 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE  85 

shining  feathers  like  the  tender  blossoms  of  spring.  As 
she  leaned  the  lamp  over  to  have  a  nearer  view  of  his 
face  a  drop  of  burning  oil  fell  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
god,  startled  with  which  he  opened  his  eyes  and  fixed 
them  full  upon  her;  then,  without  saying  one  word,  he 
spread  his  white  wings  and  flew  out  of  the  window. 
Psyche,  in  vain  endeavoring  to  follow  him,  fell  from 
the  window  to  the  ground.  Cupid,  beholding  her  as  she 
lay  in  the  dust,  stopped  his  flight  for  an  instant  and 
said,  "O  foolish  Psyche,  is  it  thus  you  repay  my  love? 
After  having  disobeyed  my  mother's  commands  and 
made  you  my  wife,  will  you  think  me  a  monster  and 
cut  off  my  head  ?  But  go ;  return  to  your  sisters,  whose 
advice  you  seem  to  think  preferable  to  mine.  I  inflict 
no  other  punishment  on  you  than  to  leave  you  forever. 
Love  cannot  dwell  with  suspicion."  So  saying,  he  fled 
away,  leaving  poor  Psyche  prostrate  on  the  ground,  fill- 
ing the  place  with  mournful  lamentations. 

When  she  had  recovered  some  degree  of  composure 
she  looked  around  her,  but  the  palace  and  gardens  had 
vanished,  and  she  found  herself  in  the  open  field  not 
far  from  the  city  where  her  sisters  dwelt.  She  repaired* 
thither  and  told  them  the  whole  story  of  her  misfor- 
tunes, at  which,  pretending  to  grieve,  those  spiteful 
creatures  inwardly  rejoiced.  "For  now,"  said  they,  "he 
will  perhaps  choose  one  of  us."  With  this  idea,  with- 
out saying  a  word  of  her  intentions,  each  of  them  rose 
early  the  next  morning  and  ascended  the  mountains,  and 
having  reached  the  top,  called  upon  Zephyr  to  receive 
her  and  bear  her  to  his  lord;  then  leaping  up,  and  not 
being  sustained  by  Zephyr,  fell  down  the  precipice  and 
was  dashed  to  pieces. 

Psyche  meanwhile  wandered  day  and  night,  without 
food  or  repose,  in  search  of  her  husband.  Casting  her 
eyes  on  a  lofty  mountain  having  on  its  brow  a  mag- 
nificent temple,  she  sighed  and  said  to  herself,  "Per- 
haps my  love,  my  lord,  inhabits  there,"  and  directed  her 
steps  thither. 

She  had  no  sooner  entered  than  she  saw  heaps  of 
corn,  some  in  loose  ears  and  some  in  sheaves,  with 
mingled  ears  of  barley.  Scattered  about,  lay  sickles  and 


86          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

rakes,  and  all  the  instruments  of  harvest,  without  order, 
as  if  thrown  carelessly  out  of  the  weary  reapers'  hands 
in  the  sultry  hours  of  the  day. 

This  unseemly  confusion  the  pious  Psyche  put  an  end 
to,  by  separating  and  sorting  everything  to  its  proper 
place  and  kind,  believing  that  she  ought  to  neglect  none 
of  the  gods,  but  endeavor  by  her  piety  to  engage  them 
all  in  her  behalf.  The  holy  Ceres,  whose  temple  it  was, 
finding  her  so  religiously  employed,  thus  spoke  to  her: 
"O  Psyche,  truly  worthy  of  our  pity,  though  I  cannot 
shield  you  from  the  frowns  of  Venus,  yet  I  can  teach 
you  how  best  to  allay  her  displeasure.  Go,  then,  and 
voluntarily  surrender  yourself  to  your  lady  and  sov- 
ereign, and  try  by  modesty  and  submission  to  win  her 
forgiveness,  and  perhaps  her  favor  will  restore  you  the 
husband  you  have  lost." 

Psyche  obeyed  the  commands  of  Ceres  and  took  her 
way  to  the  temple  of  Venus,  endeavoring  to  fortify  her 
mind  and  ruminating  on  what  she  should  say  and  how 
best  propitiate  the  angry  goddess,  feeling  that  the  issue 
was  doubtful  and  perhaps  fatal. 

Venus  received  her  with  angry  countenance.  "Most 
undutiful  and  faithless  of  servants,"  said  she,  "do  you 
at  last  remember  that  you  really  have  a  mistress?  Or 
have  you  rather  come  to  see  your  sick  husband,  yet  laid 
up  of  the  wound  given  him  by  his  loving  wife  ?  You  are 
so  ill-favored  and  disagreeable  that  the  only  way  you 
can  merit  your  lover  must  be  by  dint  of  industry  and 
diligence.  I  will  make  trial  of  your  housewifery."  Then 
she  ordered  Psyche  to  be  led  to  the  storehouse  of  her 
temple,  where  was  laid  up  a  great  quantity  of  wheat, 
barley,  millet,  vetches,  beans,  and  lentils  prepared  for 
food  for  her  pigeons,  and  said,  "Take  and  separate  all 
these  grains,  putting  all  of  the  same  kind  in  a  parcel 
by  themselves,  and  see  that  you  get  it  done  before  even- 
ing." Then  Venus  departed  and  left  her  to  her  task. 

But  Psyche,  in  a  perfect  consternation  at  the  enor- 
mous work,  sat  stupid  and  silent,  without  moving  a  fin- 
ger to  the  inextricable  heap. 

While  she  sat  despairing,  Cupid  stirred  up  the  little 
jmt,  a  native  of  the  fields,  to  take  compassion  on  her. 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE  87 

The  leader  of  the  ant  hill,  followed  by  whole  hosts  of 
his  six-legged  subjects,  approached  the  heap,  and  with 
the  utmost  diligence,  taking  grain  by  grain,  they  sep- 
arated the  pile,  sorting  each  kind  to  its  parcel;  and 
when  it  was  all  done,  they  vanished  out  of  sight  in  a 
moment. 

Venus  at  the  approach  of  twilight  returned  from  the 
banquet  of  the  gods,  breathing  odors  and  crowned  with 
roses.  Seeing  the  task  done,  she  exclaimed,  "This  is 
no  work  of  yours,  wicked  one,  but  his,  whom  to  your 
own  and  his  misfortune  you  have  enticed."  So  saying, 
she  threw  her  a  piece  of  black  bread  for  her  supper  and 
went  away. 

Next  morning  Venus  ordered  Psyche  to  be  called 
and  said  to  her,  "Behold  yonder  grove  which  stretches 
along  the  margin  of  the  water.  There  you  will  find 
sheep  feeding  without  a  shepherd,  with  golden-shining 
fleeces  on  their  backs.  Go,  fetch  me  a  sample  of  that 
precious  wool  gathered  from  every  one  of  their  fleeces." 

Psyche  obediently  went  to  the  riverside,  prepared  to 
do  her  best  to  execute  the  command.  But  the  river  god 
inspired  the  reeds  with  harmonious  murmurs,  which 
seemed  to  say,  "O  maiden,  severely  tried,  tempt  not  the 
dangerous  •  flood,  nor  venture  among  the  formidable 
rams  on  the  other  side,  for  as  long  as  they  are  under 
the  influence  of  the  rising  sun,  they  burn  with  a  cruel 
rage  to  destroy  mortals  with  their  sharp  horns  or  rude 
teeth.  But  when  the  noontide  sun  has  driven  the  cattle 
to  the  shade,  and  the  serene  spirit  of  the  flood  has  lulled 
them  to  rest,  you  may  then  cross  in  safety,  and  you  will 
find  the  woolly  gold  sticking  to  the  bushes  and  the 
trunks  of  the  trees." 

Thus  the  compassionate  river  god  gave  Psyche  in- 
structions how  to  accomplish  her  task,  and  by  observ- 
ing his  directions  she  soon  returned  to  Venus  with  her 
arms  full  of  the  golden  fleece;  but  she  received  not 
the  approbation  of  her  implacable  mistress,  who  said, 
"I  know  very  well  it  is  by  none  of  your  own  doings 
that  you  have  succeeded  in  this  task,  and  I  am  not 
satisfied  yet  that  you  have  any  capacity  to  make  your- 
self useful.  But  I  have  another  task  for  you.  Here, 


88          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

take  this  box  and  go  your  way  to  the  infernal  shades, 
and  give  this  box  to  Proserpine  and  say,  'My  mistress 
Venus  desires  you  to  send  her  a  little  of  your  beauty, 
for  in  tending  her  sick  son  she  has  lost  some  of  her 
own/  Be  not  too  long  on  your  errand,  for  I  must  paint 
myself  with  it  to  appear  at  the  circle  of  the  gods  and 
goddesses  this  evening." 

Psyche  was  now  satisfied  that  her  destruction  was  at 
hand,  being  obliged  to  go  with  her  own  feet  directly 
down  to  Erebus.  Wherefore,  to  make  no  delay  of  what 
was  not  to  be  avoided,  she  goes  to  the  top  of  a  high 
tower  to  precipitate  herself  headlong,  thus  to  descend 
the  shortest  way  to  the  shades  below.  But  a  voice  from 
the  tower  said  to  her,  "Why,  poor  unlucky  girl,  dost 
thou  design  to  put  an  end  to  thy  days  in  so  dreadful  a 
manner?  And  what  cowardice  makes  thee  sink  under 
this  last  danger  who  hast  been  so  miraculously  sup- 
ported in  all  thy  former  ?"  Then  the  voice  told  her  how 
by  a  certain  cave  she  might  reach  the  realms  of  Pluto, 
and  how  to  avoid  all  the  dangers  of  the  road,  to  pass 
by  Cerberus,  the  three-headed  dog,  and  prevail  on 
Charon,  the  ferryman,  to  take  her  across  the  black  river 
and  bring  her  back  again.  But  the  voice  added,  "When 
Proserpine  has  given  you  the  box  filled  with  her  beauty, 
of  all  things  this  is  chiefly  to  be  observed  by  you,  that 
you  never  once  open  or  look  into  the  box  nor  allow  your 
curiosity  to  pry  into  the  treasure  of  the  beauty  of  the 
goddesses." 

Psyche,  encouraged  by  this  advice,  obeyed  it  in  all 
things,  and  taking  heed  to  her  ways  travelled  safely  to 
the  kingdom  of  Pluto.  She  was  admitted  to  the  palace 
of  Proserpine,  and  without  accepting  the  delicate  seat 
or  delicious  banquet  that  was  offered  her,  but  contented 
with  coarse  bread  for  her  food,  she  delivered  her  mes- 
sage from  Venus.  Presently  the  box  was  returned  to 
her,  shut  and  filled  with  the  precious  commodity.  Then 
she  returned  the  way  she  came,  and  glad  was  she  to 
come  out  once  more  into  the  light  of  day. 

But  having  got  so  far  successfully  through  her  dan- 
gerous task,  a  longing  desire  seized  her  to  examine  the 
contents  of  the  box.  "What,"  said  she,  "shall  I,  the 


CUPID  AND  PSYCHE  89 

carrier  of  this  divine  beauty,  not  take  the  least  bit  to 
put  on  my  cheeks  to  appear  to  more  advantage  in  the 
eyes  of  my  beloved  husband !"  So  she  carefully  opened 
the  box,  but  found  nothing  there  of  any  beauty  at  all, 
but  an  infernal  and  truly  Stygian  sleep,  which  being 
thus  set  free  from  its  prison,  took  possession  of  her, 
and  she  fell  down  in  the  midst  of  the  road,  a  sleepy 
corpse  without  sense  or  motion. 

But  Cupid,  being  .now  recovered  from  his  wound,  and 
not  able  longer  to  bear  the  absence  of  his  beloved 
Psyche,  slipping  through  the  smallest  crack  of  the  win- 
dow of  his  chamber  which  happened  to  be  left  open, 
flew  to  the  spot  where  Psyche  lay,  and  gathering  up  the 
sleep  from  her  body  closed  it  again  in  the  box,  and 
waked  Psyche  with  a  light  touch  of  one  of  his  arrows. 
"Again,"  said  he,  "hast  thou  almost  perished  by  the. 
same  curiosity.  But  now  perform  exactly  the  task  im- 
posed on  you  by  my  mother,  and  I  will  take  care  of  the 
rest." 

Then  Cupid,  as  swift  as  lightning  penetrating  the 
heights  of  heaven,  presented  himself  before  Jupiter  with 
his  supplication.  Jupiter  lent  a  favoring  ear,  and  plead- 
ed the  cause  of  the  lovers  so  earnestly  with  Venus  that 
he  won  her  consent.  On  this  he  sent  Mercury  to  bring 
Psyche  up  to  the  heavenly  assembly,  and  when  she  ar- 
rived, handing  her  a  cup  of  ambrosia,  he  said,  "Drink 
this,  Psyche,  and  be  immortal ;  nor  shall  Cupid  ever 
break  away  from  the  knot  in  which  he  is  tied,  but  these 
nuptials  shall  be  perpetual." 

Thus  Psyche  became  at  last  united  to  Cupid,  and  in 
due  time  they  had  a  daughter  born  to  them  whose  name 
was  Pleasure. 

The  fable  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  is  usually  considered 
allegorical.  The  Greek  name  for  a  butterfly  is  Psyche, 
and  the  same  word  means  the  soul.  There  is  no  illus- 
tration of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  so  striking  and 
beautiful  as  the  butterfly,  bursting  on  brilliant  wings 
from  the  tomb  in  which  it  has  lain,  after  a  dull,  grovel- 
iirjg,  caterpillar  existence,  to  flutter  in  the  blaze  of  day 
and  feed  on  the  most  fragrant  and  delicate  productions 


90          STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

of  the  spring.  Psyche,  then,  is  the  human  soul,  which 
is  purified  by  sufferings  and  misfortunes,  and  is  thus 
prepared  for  the  enjoyment  of  true  and  pure  happi- 
ness. 

In  works  of  art  Psyche  is  represented  as  a  maiden 
with  the  wings  of  a  butterfly,  along  with  Cupid,  in  the 
different  situations  described  in  the  allegory. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  in 
the  conclusion  of  his  "Comus" : 

"Celestial  Cupid,  her  famed   son,  advanced, 
Holds  his  dear  Psyche  sweet  entranced, 
After  her  wandering  labors  long, 
Till  free  consent  the  gods  among 
Make  her  his  eternal  bride; 
And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side 
Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  born, 
Youth  and  Joy;  so  Jove  hath  sworn." 

The  allegory  of  the  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  is  well 
presented  in  the  beautiful  lines  of  T.  K.  Harvey: 

"They  wove  bright  fables  in  the  days  of  old, 

When  reason  borrowed  fancy's  painted  wings ; 
When  truth's  clear  river  flowed  o'er  sands  of  gold, 

And  told  in  song  its  high  and  mystic  things ! 
And  such  the  sweet  and  solemn  tale  of  her 

The  pilgrim  heart,  to  whom  a  dream  was  given, 
That  led  her  through  the  world, — Love's  worshipper, — 

To  seek  on  earth  for  him  whose  home  was  heaven ! 

"In  the  full  city, — by  the  haunted  fount, — 

Through  the  dim  grotto's  tracery  of  spars, — 
'Mid  the  pine  temples,  on  the  moonlit  mount, 

Where   silence  sits  to  listen  to  the  stars ; 
In  the  deep  glade  where  dwells  the  brooding  dove, 

The  painted  valley,  and  the  scented  air, 
She  heard  far  echoes  of  the  voice  of  Love, 

And  found  his  footsteps'  traces  everywhere. 

"But  nevermore  they  met!  since  doubts  and   fears, 
Those  phantom  shapes  that  haunt  and  blight  the  earth, 

Had  come  'twixt  her,  a  child  of  sin  and  tears, 
And  that  bright  spirit  of  immortal  birth ; 

Until  her  pining  soul  and  weeping  eyes 

Had  learned  to  seek  him  only  m  the  skies ; 

Till  wings  unto  the  weary  heart  were  given, 

And  she  became  Love's  angel  bride  in  heaven!" 


CADMUS  91 

The  story  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  first  appears  in  the 
works  of  Apuleius,  a  writer  of  the  second  century  of 
our  era.  It  is  therefore  of  much  more  recent  date  than 
most  of  the  legends  of  the  Age  of  Fable.  It  is  thU 
that  Keats  alludes  to  in  his  "Ode  to  Psyche*': 

"O  latest  born  and  loveliest  vision  far 

Of  all  Olympus*  faded  hierarchy! 
Fairer  than  Phoebe's  sapphire-regioned  star 

Or  Vesper,  amorous  glow-worm  of  the  sky; 
Fairer  than  these,  though  temple  thou  hast  none, 

Nor  altar  heaped  with  flowers; 
Nor  virgin  choir  to  make  delicious  moan 

Upon  the  midnight  hours; 
No  voice,  no  lute,  no  pipe,  no  incense  sweet, 

From  chain-swung  censor  teeming; 
No  shrine,  no  grove,  no  oracle,  no  heat 
Of  pale-mouthed  prophet  dreaming." 

In  Moore's  "Summer  Fete"  a  fancy  ball  is  described, 
in  which  one  of  the  characters  personated  is  Psyche — 

"...    not  in  dark  disguise  to-night 
Hath  our  young  heroine  veiled  her  light;— 
For  see,  she  walks  the  earth,  Love's  own. 

His  wedded  bride,  by  holiest  vow 
Pledged  in  Olympus,  and  made  known 

To  mortals  by  the  type  which  now 

Hangs  glittering  on  her  snowy  brow. 
That  butterfly,  mysterious  trinket, 
Which  means  the  soul,  (though  few  would  think  it,) 
And  sparkling  thus  on  brow  so  white 
Tells  us  we've  Psyche  here  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XII 

CADMUS THE    MYRMIDONS 


JUPITER,  under  the  disguise  of  a  bull,  had  carried 
away  Europa,  the  daughter  of  Agenor,  king  of  Phoe- 
nicia. Agenor  commanded  his  son  Cadmus  to  go  in 
search  of  his  sister,  and  not  to  return  without  her, 
Cadmus  went  and  sought  long  and  far  for  his  sister, 


92         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

but  could  not  find  her,  and  not  daring  to  return  un- 
successful, consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo  to  know 
what  country  he  should  settle  in.  The  oracle  informed 
him  that  he  should  find  a  cow  in  the  field,  and  should 
follow  her  wherever  she  might  wander,  and  where  she 
stopped,  should  build  a  city  and  call  it  Thebes.  Cad- 
mus had  hardly  left  the  Castalian  cave,  from  which 
the  oracle  was  delivered,  when  he  saw  a  young  cow 
slowly  walking  before  him.  He  followed  her  close,  of- 
fering at  the  same  time  his  prayers  to  Phoebus.  The 
cow  went  on  till  she  passed  the  shallow  channel  of 
Cephisus  and  came  out  into  the  plain  of  Panope.  There 
she  stood  still,  and  raising  her  broad  forehead  to  the 
sky,  filled  the  air  with  her  lowings.  Cadmus  gave 
thanks,  and  stooping  down  kissed  the  foreign  soil,  then 
lifting  his  eyes,  greeted  the  surrounding  mountains. 
Wishing  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  Jupiter,  he  sent  his  serv- 
ants to  seek  pure  water  for  a  libation.  Near  by  there 
stood  an  ancient  grove  which  had  never  been  profaned 
by  the  axe,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a  cave,  thick  cov- 
ered with  the  growth  of  bushes,  its  roof  forming  a  low 
arch,  from  beneath  which  burst  forth  a  fountain  of 
purest  water.  In  the  cave  lurked  a  horrid  serpent  with 
a  crested  head  and  scales  glittering  like  gold.  His  eyes 
shone  like  fire,  his  body  was  swollen  with  venom,  he 
vibrated  a  triple  tongue,  and  showed  a  triple  row  of 
teeth.  No  sooner  had  the  Tyrians  dipped  their  pitchers 
in  the  fountain,  and  the  in-gushing  waters  made  a  sound,, 
than  the  glittering  serpent  raised  his  head  out  of  the 
cave  and  uttered  a  fearful  hiss.  The  vessels  fell  from 
their  hands,  the  blood  left  their  cheeks,  they  trembled 
in  every  limb.  The  serpent,  twisting  his  scaly  body 
in  a  huge  coil,  raised  his  head  so  as  to  overtop  the  tall- 
est trees,  and  while  the  Tyrians  from  terror  could 
neither  fight  nor  fly,  slew  some  with  his  fangs,  others 
in  his  folds,  and  others  with  his  poisonous  breath. 

Cadmus,  having  waited  for  the  return  of  his  men 
till  midday,  went  in  search  of  them.  His  covering  was 
a  lion's  hide,  and  besides  his  javelin  he  carried  in  his 
hand  a  lance,  and  in  his  breast  a  bold  heart,  a  surer 
reliance  than  either.  When  he  entered  the  wood,  and 


CADMUS  93 

saw  the  lifeless  bodies  of  his  men,  and  the  monster  with 
his  bloody  jaws,  he  exclaimed,  "O  faithful  friends,  I 
will  avenge  you,  or  share  your  death."  So  saying  he 
lifted  a  huge  stone  and  threw  it  with  all  his  force  at 
the  serpent.  Such  a  block  would  have  shaken  the  wall 
of  a  fortress,  but  it  made  no  impression  on  the  monster. 
Cadmus  next  threw  his  javelin,  which  met  with  better 
success,  for  it  penetrated  the  serpent's  scales,  and  pierced 
through  to  his  entrails.  Fierce  with  pain,  the  monster 
turned  back  his  head  to  view  the  wound,  and  attempted 
to  draw  out  the  weapon  with  his  mouth,  but  broke  it  off, 
leaving  the  iron  point  rankling  in  his  flesh.  His  neck 
swelled  with  rage,  bloody  foam  covered  his  jaws,  and 
the  breath  of  his  nostrils  poisoned  the  air  around.  Now 
he  twisted  himself  into  a  circle,  then  stretched  himself 
out  on  the  ground  like  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  As 
he  moved  onward,  Cadmus  retreated  before  him,  hold- 
ing his  spear  opposite  to  the  monster's  opened  jaws. 
The  serpent  snapped  at  the  weapon  and  attempted  to 
bite  its  iron  point.  At  last  Cadmus,  watching  his  chance, 
thrust  the  spear  at  a  moment  when  the  animal's  head 
thrown  back  came  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  so 
succeeded  in  pinning  him  to  its  side.  His  weight  bent 
the  tree  as  he  struggled  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

While  Cadmus  stood  over  his  conquered  foe,  contem- 
plating its  vast  size,  a  voice  was  heard  (from  whence 
he  knew  not,  but  he  heard  it  distinctly)  commanding 
him  to  take  the  dragon's  teeth  and  sow  them  in  the 
earth.  He  obeyed.  He  made  a  furrow  in  the  ground, 
and  planted  the  teeth,  destined  to  produce  a  crop  of 
men.  Scarce  had  he  done  so  when  the  clods  began  to 
move,  and  the  points  of  spears  to  appear  above  the  sur- 
face. Next  helmets  with  their  nodding  plumes  came 
up,  and  next  the  shoulders  and  breasts  and  limbs  of  men 
with  weapons,  and  in  time  a  harvest  of  armed  warriors. 
Cadmus,  alarmed,  prepared  to  encounter  a  new  enemy, 
but  one  of  them  said  to  him,  "Meddle  not  with  our 
civil  war."  With  that  he  who  had  spoken  smote  one 
of  his  earth-born  brothers  with  a  sword,  and  he  himself 
fell  pierced  with  an  arrow  from  another.  The  latter 
fell  victim  to  a  fourth,  and  in  like  manner  the  whole 


94    STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

crowd  dealt  with  each  other  till  all  fell,  slain  with  mu- 
tual wounds,  except  five  survivors.  One  of  these  cast 
away  his  weapons  and  said,  "Brothers,  let  us  live  in 
peace!"  These  five  joined  with  Cadmus  in  building  his 
city,  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  Thebes. 

Cadmus  obtained  in  marriage  Harmonia,  the  daughter 
of  Venus.  The  gods  left  Olympus  to  honor  the  occa- 
sion with  their  presence,  and  Vulcan  presented  the  bride 
with  a  necklace  of  surpassing  brilliancy,  his  own  work- 
manship. But  a  fatality  hung  over  the  family  of  Cad- 
mus in  consequence  of  his  killing  the  serpent  sacred  to 
Mars.  Semele  and  Ino,  his  daughters,  and  Actseon  and 
Pentheus,  his  grandchildren,  all  perished  unhappily,  and 
Cadmus  and  Harmonia  quitted  Thebes,  now  grown 
odious  to  them,  and  emigrated  to  the  country  of  the 
Enchelians,  who  received  them  with  honor  and  made 
Cadmus  their  king.  But  the  misfortunes  of  their  chil- 
dren still  weighed  upon  their  minds;  and  one  day  Cad- 
mus exclaimed,  "If  a  serpent's  life  is  so  dear  to  the 
gods,  I  would  I  were  myself  a  serpent."  No  sooner 
had  he  uttered  the  words  than  he  began  to  change  his 
form.  Harmonia  beheld  it  and  prayed  to  the  gods  to 
let  her  share  his  fate.  Both  became  serpents.  They 
live  in  the  woods,  but  mindful  of  their  origin,  they  neither 
avoid  the  presence  of  man  nor  do  they  ever  injure  any 
one. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  Cadmus  introduced  into 
Greece  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  which  were  invented 
by  the  Phoenicians.  This  is  alluded  to  by  Byron,  where, 
addressing  the  modern  Greeks,  he  says: 

"You  have  the  letters  Cadmus  gave, 
Think  you  he  meant  them  for  a  slave?" 

Milton,  describing  the  serpent  which  tempted  Eve, 
is  reminded  of  the  serpents  of  the  classical  stories  and 
says: 

.    .    .    " — pleasing  was  his  shape, 
A«d  lovely :  never  since  of  serpent  kind 
Lovelier;  not  those  that  in  Illyria  changed 
Hermione  and  Cadmus,  nor  the  god 
In  Epidauru<?" 


THE  MYRMIDONS  95 

For  an  explanation  of  the  last  allusion,  see  Oracle 
of  ^Esculapius,  p.  298. 

THE   MYRMIDONS 

The  Myrmidons  were  the  soldiers  of  Achilles,  in  the 
Trojan  war.  From  them  all  zealous  and  unscrupulous 
followers  of  a  political  chief  are  called  by  that  name, 
down  to  this  day.  But  the  origin  of  the  Myrmidons 
would  not  give  one  the  idea  of  a  fierce  and  bloody  race, 
but  rather  of  a  laborious  and  peaceful  one. 

Cephalus,  king  of  Athens,  arrived  in  the  island  of 
^igina  to  seek  assistance  of  his  old  friend  and  ally 
^iacus,  the  kirg,  in  his  war  with  Minos,  king  of  Crete. 
Cephalus  was  most  kindly  received,  and  the  desired  as- 
sistance readily  promised.  "I  have  people  enough,"  said 
/Eacus,  "to  protect  myself  and  spare  you  such  a  force 
as  you  need."  "I  rejoice  to  see  it,"  replied  Cephalus, 
"and  my  wonder  has  been  raised,  I  confess,  to  find 
such  a  host  of  youths  as  I  see  around  me,  all  apparently 
of  about  the  same  age.  Yet  there  are  many  individuals 
whom  I  previously  knew,  that  I  look  for  now  in  vain. 
What  has  become  of  them?"  yEacus  groaned,  and  re- 
plied with  a  voice  of  sadness,  "I  have  been  intending 
to  tell  you,  and  will  now  do  so,  without  more  delay, 
that  you  may  see  how  from  the  saddest  beginning  a 
happy  result  sometimes  flows.  Those  whom  you  for- 
merly knew  are  now  dust  and  ashes!  A  plague  sent 
by  angry  Juno  devastated  the  land.  She  hated  it  be- 
cause it  bore  the  name  of  one  of  her  husband's  female 
favorites.  While  the  disease  appeared  to  spring  from 
natural  causes  we  resisted  it,  as  we  best  might,  by  nat- 
ural remedies;  but  it  soon  appeared  that  the  pestilence 
was  too  powerful  for  our  efforts,  and  we  yielded.  At 
the  beginning  the  sky  seemed  to  settle  down  upon  the 
earth,  and  thick  clouds  shut  in  the  heated  air.  For  four 
months  together  a  deadly  south  wind  prevailed.  The 
disorder  affected  the  wells  and  springs;  thousands  of 
snakes  crept  over  the  land  and  shed  their  poison  in 
the  fountains.  The  force  of  the  disease  was  nrst  spent 
on  the  lower  animals — dogs,  cattle,  sheep,  and  birds. 
The  luckless  ploughman  wondered  to  see  his  oxen  fall 


96         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

in  the  midst  of  their  work,  and  lie  helpless  in  the  un- 
finished furrow.  The  wool  fell  from  the  bleating  sheep, 
and  their  bodies  pined  away.  The  horse,  once  foremost 
in  the  race,  contested  the  palm  no  more,  but  groaned 
at  his  stall  and  died  an  inglorious  death.  The  wild 
boar  forgot  his  rage,  the  stag  his  swiftness,  the  bears 
no  longer  attacked  the  herds.  Everything  languished; 
dead  bodies  lay  in  the  roads,  the  fields,  and  the  woods; 
the  air  was  poisoned  by  them.  I  tell  you  what  is  hardly 
credible,  but  neither  dogs  nor  birds  would  touch  them, 
nor  starving  wolves.  Their  decay  spread  the  infection. 
Next  the  disease  attacked  the  country  people,  and  then 
the  dwellers  in  the  city.  At  first  the  cheek  was  flushed, 
and  the  breath  drawn  with  difficulty.  The  tongue  grew 
rough  and  swelled,  and  the  dry  mouth  stood  open  with 
its  veins  enlarged  and  gasped  for  the  air.  Men  could 
not  bear  the  heat  of  their  clothes  or  their  beds,  but 
preferred  to  lie  on  the  bare  ground;  and  the  ground 
did  not  cool  them,  but,  on  the  contrary,  they  heated  the 
spot  where  they  lay.  Nor  could  the  physicians  help, 
for  the  disease  attacked  them  also,  and  the  contact  of 
the  sick  gave  them  infection,  so  that  the  most  faithful 
were  the  first  victims.  At  last  all  hope  of  relief  van- 
ished, and  men  learned  to  look  upon  death  as  the  only 
deliverer  from  disease.  Then  they  gave  way  to  every 
inclination,  and  cared  not  to  ask  what  was  expedient, 
for  nothing  was  expedient.  All  restraint  laid  aside,  they 
crowded  around  the  wells  and  fountains  and  drank  till 
they  died,  without  quenching  thirst.  Many  had  not 
strength  to  get  away  from  the  water,  but  died  in  the 
midst  of  the  stream,  and  others  would  drink  of  it  not- 
withstanding. Such  was  their  weariness  of  their  sick 
beds  that  some  would  creep  forth,  and  if  not  strong 
enough  to  stand,  would  die  on  the  ground.  They 
seemed  to  hate  their  friends,  and  got  away  from  their 
homes,  as  if,  not  knowing  the  cause  of  their  sickness, 
they  charged  it  on  the  place  of  their  abode.  Some  were 
seen  tottering  along  the  road,  as  long  as  they  could  stand, 
while  others  sank  on  the  earth,  and  turned  their  dying 
eyes  around  to  take  a  last  look,  then  closed  them  in 
death. 


THE  MYRMIDONS  97 

"What  heart  had  I  left  me,  during  all  this,  or  what 
ought  I  to  have  had,  except  to  hate  life  and  wish  to 
be  with  my  dead  subjects?  On  all  sides  lay  my  people 
strewn  like  over-ripened  apples  beneath  the  tree,  or 
acorns  under  the  storm-shaken  oak.  You  see  yonder 
a.  temple  on  the  height.  It  is  sacred  to  Jupiter.  O  how 
many  offered  prayers  there,  husbands  for  wives,  fathers 
for  sons,  and  died  in  the  very  act  of  supplication !  How 
often,  while  the  priest  made  ready  for  sacrifice,  the  vic- 
tim fell,  struck  down  by  disease  without  waiting  for 
the  blow !  At  length  all  reverence  for  sacred  things  was 
lost.  Bodies  were  thrown  out  unburied,  wood  was 
wanting  for  funeral  piles,  men  fought  with  one  another 
for  the  possession  of  them.  Finally  there  were  none  left 
to  mourn;  sons  and  husbands,  old  men  and  youths,  per- 
ished alike  unlamented. 

"Standing  before  the  altar  I  raised  my  eyes  to  heaven. 
'O  Jupiter/  I  said,  'if  thou  art  indeed  my  father,  and 
art  not  ashamed  of  thy  offspring,  give  me  back  my 
people,  or  take  me  also  away!'  At  these  words  a  clap 
of  thunder  was  heard.  'I  accept  the  omen/  I  cried; 
'O  may  it  be  a  sign  of  a  favorable  disposition  towards 
me!'  By  chance  there  grew  by  the  place  where  I  stood 
an  oak  with  wide-spreading  branches,  sacred  to  Jupiter. 
I  observed  a  troop  of  ants  busy  with  their  labor,  carry- 
ing minute  grains  in  their  mouths  and  following  one 
another  in  a  line  up  the  trunk  of  the  tree.  Observing 
their  numbers  with  admiration,  I  said,  'Give  me,  O 
father,  citizens  as  numerous  as  these,  and  replenish  my 
empty  city/  The  tree  shook  and  gave  a  rustling  sound 
with  its  branches,  though  no  wind  agitated  them.  I 
trembled  in  every  limb,  yet  I  kissed  the  earth  and  the 
tree.  I  would  not  confess  to  myself  that  I  hoped,  yet 
I  did  hope.  Night  came  on  and  sleep  took  possession 
of  my  frame  oppressed  with  cares.  The  tree  stood  be- 
fore me  in  my  dreams,  with  its  numerous  branches  all 
covered  with  living,  moving  creatures.  It  seemed  to 
shake  its  limbs  and  throw  down  over  the  ground  a  mul- 
titude of  those  industrious  grain-gathering  animals, 
which  appeared  to  gain  in  size,  and  grow  larger  and 
larger,  and  by  and  by  to  stand  erect,  lav  aside  their 


98         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

superfluous  legs  and  their  black  color,  and  finally  to 
assume  the  human  form.  Then  I  awoke,  and  my  first 
impulse  was  to  chide  the  gods  who  had  robbed  me  of 
a  sweet  vision  and  given  me  no  reality  in  its  place. 
Being  still  in  the  temple,  my  attention  was  caught  by 
the  sound  of  many  voices  without;  a  sound  of  late  un- 
usual to  my  ears.  While  I  began  to  think  I  was  yet 
dreaming,  Telamon,  my  son,  throwing  open  the  temple 
gates,  exclaimed :  'Father,  approach,  and  behold  things 
surpassing  even  your  hopes !'  I  went  forth ;  I  saw  a 
multitude  of  men,  such  as  I  had  seen  in  my  dream,  and 
they  were  passing  in  procession  in  the  same  manner. 
While  I  gazed  with  wonder  and  delight  they  approached 
and  kneeling  hailed  me  as  their  king.  I  paid  my  vows 
to  Jove,  and  proceeded  to  allot  the  vacant  city  to  the 
new-born  race,  and  to  parcel  out  the  fields  among  them. 
I  called  them  Myrmidons,  from  the  ant  (myrmex)  from 
which  they  sprang.  You  have  seen  these  persons;  their 
dispositions  resemble  those  which  they  had  in  their  for- 
mer shape.  They  are  a  diligent  and  industrious  race, 
eager  to  gain,  and  tenacious  of  their  gains.  Among 
them  you  may  recruit  your  forces.  They  will  follow 
you  to  the  war,  young  in  years  and  bold  in  heart." 

This  description  of  the  plague  is  copied  by  Ovid  from 
the  account  which  Thucydides,  the  Greek  historian,  gives 
of  the  plague  of  Athens.  The  historian  drew  from 
life,  and  all  the  poets  and  writers  of  fiction  since  his 
day,  when  they  have  had  occasion  to  describe  a  simi- 
lar scene,  have  borrowed  their  details  from  him,. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

NISUS    AND    SCYLLA — ECHO    AND    NARCISSUS — CLYTIE — 
HERO  AND  LEANDER 

NISUS  AND  SCYLLA 

MINOS,  king  of  Crete,  made  war  upon  Megara.    Nisus 
was  king  of  Megara,  and  Scylla  was  his  daughter.    The 


NISUS  AND  SCYLLA  99 

siege  had  now  lasted  six  months  and  the  city  still  held 
out,  for  it  was  decreed  by  fate  that  it  should  not  be 
taken  so  long  as  a  certain  purple  lock,  which  glittered 
among  the  hair  of  King  Nisus,  remained  on  his  head. 
There  was  a  tower  on  the  city  walls,  which  overlooked 
the  plain  where  Minos  and  his  army  were  encamped. 
To  this  tower  Scylla  used  to  repair,  and  look  abroad 
over  the  tents  of  the  hostile  army.  The  siege  had  lasted 
so  long  that  she  had  learned  to  distinguish  the  persons 
of  the  leaders.  Minos,  in  particular,  excised  her  ad- 
miration. Arrayed  in  his  helmet,  and  bearing  his  shield, 
she  admired  his  graceful  deportment;  if  he  threw  his 
javelin  skill  seemed  combined  with  force  in  the  dis- 
charge; if  he  drew  his  bow  Apollo  himself  could  not 
have  done  it  more  gracefully.  But  when  he  laid  aside 
his  helmet,  and  in  his  purple  robes  bestrode  his  white 
horse  with  its  gay  caparisons,  and  reined  in  its  foam- 
ing mouth,  the  daughter  of  Nisus  was  hardly  mistress 
of  herself;  she  was  almost  frantic  with  admiration. 
She  envied  the  weapon  that  he  grasped,  the  reins  that 
he  held.  She  felt  as  if  she  could,  if  it  were  possible, 
go  to  him  through  the  hostile  ranks;  she  felt  an  im- 
pulse to  cast  herself  down  from  the  tower  into  the  midst 
of  his  camp,  or  to  open  the  gates  to  him,  or  to  do  any- 
thing else,  so  only  it  might  gratify  Minos.  As  she  sat 
in  the  tower,  she  talked  thus  with  herself:  "I  know 
not  whether  to  rejoice  or  grieve  at  this  sad  war.  I 
grieve  that  Minos  is  our  enemy;  but  I  rejoice  at  any 
cause  that  brings  him  to  my  sight.  Perhaps  he  would 
be  willing  to  grant  us  peace,  and  receive  me  as  a 
hostage.  I  would  fly  down,  if  I  could,  and  alight  in 
his  camp,  and  tell  him  that  we  yield  ourselves  to  his 
mercy.  But  then,  to  betray  my  father!  No!  rather 
would  I  never  see  Minos  again.  And  yet  no  doubt  it 
is  sometimes  the  best  thing  for  a  city  to  be  conquered, 
when  the  conqueror  is  clement  and  generous.  Minos 
certainly  has  right  on  his  side.  I  think  we  shall  be 
conquered ;  and  if  that  must  be  the  etid  of  it,  why 
should  not  love  unbar  the  gates  to  him,  instead  of 
leaving  it  to  be  done  by  war?  Better  spare  delay  and 
slaughter  if  we  can.  And  O  if  any  one  should  wound 


100        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

or  kill  Minos !  No  one  surely  would  have  the  heart 
to  do  it;  yet  ignorantly,  not  knowing  him,  one  might. 
I  will,  I  will  surrender  myself  to  him,  with  my  coun- 
try as  a  dowry,  and  so  put  an  end  to  the  war.  But 
how?  The  gates  are  guarded,  and  my  father  keeps 
the  keys;  he  only  stands  in  my  way.  O  that  it  might 
please  the  gods  to  take  him  away!  But  why  ask  the 
gods  to  do  it?  Another  woman,  loving  as  I  do,  would 
remove  with  her  own  hands  whatever  stood  in  the  way 
of  her  love.  And  can  any  other  woman  dare  more 
than  I?  I  would  encounter  fire  and  sword  to  gain 
my  object;  but  here  there  is  no  need  of  fire  and  sword. 
I  only  need  my  father's  purple  lock.  More  precious 
than  gold  to  me,  that  will  give  me  all  I  wish." 

While  she  thus  reasoned  night  came  on,  and  soon 
the  whole  palace  was  buried  in  sleep.  She  entered 
her  father's  bedchamber  and  cut  off  the  fatal  lock; 
then  passed  out  of  the  city  and  entered  the  enemy's 
camp.  She  demanded  to  be  led  to  the  king,  and  thus 
addressed  him:  "I  am  Scylla,  the  daughter  of  Nisus. 
I  surrender  to  you  my  country  and  my  father's  house. 
I  ask  no  reward  but  yourself;  for  love  of  you  I  have 
done  it.  See  here  the  purple  lock!  With  this  I  give 
you  my  father  and  his  kingdom."  She  held  out  her 
hand  with  the  fatal  spoil.  Minos  shrunk  back  and  re- 
fused to  touch  it.  "The  gods  destroy  thee,  infamous 
woman,"  he  exclaimed;  "disgrace  of  our  time!  May 
neither  earth  nor  sea  yield  thee  a  resting-place !  Surely, 
my  Crete,  where  Jove  himself  was  cradled,  shall  not 
be  polluted  with  such  a  monster!"  Thus  he  said,  and 
gave  orders  that  equitable  terms  should  be  allowed  to 
the  conquered  city,  and  that  the  fleet  should  immediately 
sail  from  the  island. 

Scylla  was  frantic.  "Ungrateful  man,"  she  exclaimed, 
"is  it  thus  you  leave  me? — me  who  have  given  you 
victory, — who  have  sacrificed  for  you  parent  and  coun- 
try! I  am  guilty,  I  confess,  and  deserve  to  die,  but 
not  by  your  hand."  As  the  ships  left  the  shore,  she 
leaped  into  the  water,  and  seizing  the  rudder  of  the 
one  which  carried  Minos,  she  was  borne  along  an  un- 
welcome companion  of  their  course.  A  sea-eagle  soar- 


ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS  101 

ing  aloft, — it  was  her  father  who  had  been  changed 
into  that  form, — seeing  her,  pounced  down  upon  her, 
and  struck  her  with  his  beak  and  claws.  In  terror 
she  let  go  the  ship  and  would  have  fallen  into  the 
water,  but  some  pitying  deity  changed  her  into  a  bird. 
The  sea-eagle  still  cherishes  the  old  animosity;  and 
whenever  he  espies  her  in  his  lofty  flight  you  may  see 
him  dart  down  upon  her,  with  beak  and  claws,  to  take 
vengeance  for  the  ancient  crime. 

ECHO   AND   NARCISSUS 

Echo  was  a  beautiful  nymph,  fond  of  the  woods  and 
hills,  where  she  devoted  herself  to  woodland  sports. 
She  was  a  favorite  of  Diana,  and  attended  her  in  the 
chase.  But  Echo  had  one  failing;  she  was  fond  of 
talking,  and  whether  in  chat  or  argument,  would  have 
the  last  word.  One  day  Juno  was  seeking  her  husband, 
who,  she  had  reason  to  fear,  was  amusing  himself 
among  the  nymphs.  Echo  by  her  talk  contrived  to  de- 
tain the  goddess  till  the  nymphs  made  their  escape. 
When  Juno  discovered  it,  she  passed  sentence  upon  Echo 
in  these  words:  "You  shall  forfeit  the  use  of  that 
tongue  with  which  you  have  cheated  me,  except  for 
that  one  purpose  you  are  so  fond  of — reply.  You 
shall  still  have  the  last  word,  but  no  power  to  speak 
first." 

This  nymph  saw  Narcissus,  a  beautiful  youth,  as  he 
pursued  the  chase  upon  the  mountains.  She  loved  him 
and  followed  his  footsteps.  O  how  she  longed  to  ad- 
dress him  in  the  softest  accents,  and  win  him  to  con- 
verse! but  it  was  not  in  her  power.  She  waited  with 
impatience  for  him  to  speak  first,  and  had  her  answer 
ready.  One  day  the  youth,  being  separated  from  his 
companions,  shouted  aloud,  "Who's  here?"  Echo  re- 
plied, "Here."  Narcissus  looked  around,  but  seeing  no 
one  called  out,  "Come."  Echo  answered,  "Come."  As 
no  one  came,  Narcissus  called  again,  "Why  do  you 
shun  me?"  Echo  asked  the  same  question.  "Let  us 
join  one  another,"  said  the  youth.  The  maid  an- 
swered with  all  her  heart  in  the  same  words,  and  hast- 


102        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

ened  to  the  spot,  ready  to  throw  her  arms  about  his 
neck.  He  started  back,  exclaiming,  "Hands  off!  I 
would  rather  die  than  you  should  have  me!"  "Have 
me/'  said  she;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  He  left  her, 
and  she  went  to  hide  her  blushes  in  the  recesses  of 
the  woods.  From  that  time  forth  she  lived  in  caves 
and  among  mountain  cliff's.  Her  form  faded  with  grief, 
till  at  last  all  her  flesh  shrank  away.  Her  bones  were 
changed  into  rocks  and  there  was  nothing  left  of  her 
but  her  voice.  With  that  she  is  still  ready  to  reply  to 
any  one  who  calls  her,  and  keeps  up  her  old  habit  of 
having  the  last  word. 

Narcissus's  cruelty  in  this  case  was  not  the  only  in- 
stance. He  shunned  all  the  rest  of  the  nymphs,  as 
he  had  done  poor  Echo.  One  day  a  maiden  who  had 
in  vain  endeavored  to  attract  him  uttered  a  prayer  that 
he  might  some  time  or  other  feel  what  it  was  to  love 
and  meet  no  return  of  affection.  The  avenging  god- 
dess heard  and  granted  the  prayer. 

There  was  a  clear  fountain,  with  water  like  silver, 
to  which  the  shepherds  never  drove  their  flocks,  nor 
the  mountain  goats  resorted,  nor  any  of  the  beasts  of 
the  forest;  neither  was  it  defaced  with  fallen  leaves  or 
branches;  but  the  grass  grew  fresh  around  it,  and  the 
rocks  sheltered  it  from  the  sun.  Hither  came  one  day 
the  youth,  fatigued  with  hunting,  heated  and  thirsty. 
He  stooped  down  to  drink,  and  saw  his  own  image 
in  the  water;  he  thought  it  was  some  beautiful  water- 
spirit  living  in  the  fountain.  He  stood  gazing  with 
admiration  at  those  bright  eyes,  those  locks  curled  like 
the  locks  of  Bacchus  or  Apollo,  the  rounded  cheeks, 
the  ivory  neck,  the  parted  lips,  and  the  glow  of  health 
and  exercise  over  all.  He  fell  in  love  with  himself. 
He  brought  his  lips  near  to  take  a  kiss;  he  plunged  his 
arms  in  to  embrace  the  beloved  object.  It  fled  at  the 
touch,  but  returned  again  after  a  moment  and  renewed 
the  fascination.  He  could  not  tear  himself  away;  he 
lost  all  thought  of  food  or  rest,  while  he  hovered  over 
the  brink  of  the  fountain  gazing  upon  his  own  image. 
He  talked  with  the  supposed  spirit:  "Why,  beautiful 
being,  do  you  shun  me?  Surely  my  face  is  not  one 


ECHO  AND  NARCISSUS  103 

to  repel  you.  The  nymphs  love  me,  and  you  your- 
self look  not  indifferent  upon  me.  When  I  stretch 
forth  my  arms  you  do  the  same;  and  you  smile  upon 
me  and  answer  my  beckonings  with  the  like."  His  tears 
fell  into  the  water  and  disturbed  the  image.  As  he 
saw  it  depart,  he  exclaimed,  "Stay,  I  entreat  you!  Let 
me  at  least  gaze  upon  you,  if  I  may  not  touch  you/' 
With  this,  and  much  more  of  the  same  kind,  he  cher- 
ished the  flame  that  consumed  him,  so  that  by  degrees 
he  lost  his  color,  his  vigor,  and  the  beauty  which  for- 
merly had  so  charmed  the  nymph  Echo.  She  kept  near 
him,  however,  and  when  he  exclaimed,  "Alas !  alas !" 
she  answered  him  with  the  same  words.  He  pined 
away  and  died;  and  when  his  shade  passed  the  Stygian 
river,  it  leaned  over  the  boat  to  catch  a  look  of  itself 
in  the  waters.  The  nymphs  mourned  for  him,  espe- 
cially the  water-nymphs;  and  when  they  smote  their 
breasts  Echo  smote  hers  also.  They  prepared  a  funeral 
pile  and  would  have  burned  the  body,  but  it  was  no- 
where to  be  found;  but  in  its  place  a  flower,  purple 
within,  and  surrounded  with  white  leaves,  which  bears 
the  name  and  preserves  the  memory  of  Narcissus. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Echo  and  Narcissus  in 
the  Lady's  song  in  "Comus."  She  is  seeking  her 
brothers  in  the  forest,  and  sings  to  attract  their  at- 
tention : 

"Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  liv'st  unseen 

Within  thy  aery  shell 
By  slow  Meander's  margent  green, 
And  in  the  violet-embroidered  vale, 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 
Nightly  to  thee  Her  sad  song  mourneth  well; 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentle  pair 
That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are? 

O,  if  thou  have 
Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where, 

Sweet  queen  of  parly,  daughter  of  the  sphere, 
So  may'st  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  heaven's  harmonies." 

Milton  has  imitated  the  story  of  Narcissus  in  the 
account  which  he  makes  Eve  give  of  the  first  sight 
of  herself  reflected  in  the  fountain: 


104        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

"That  day  I  oft  remember  when  from  sleep 
I  first  awaked,  and  found  myself  reposed 
Under  a  shade  on  flowers,  much  wondering  where 
And  what  I  was,  whence  thither  brought,  and  how. 
Not  distant  far  from  thence  a  murmuring  sound 
Of  waters  issued  from  a  cave,  and  spread 
Into  a  liquid  plain,  then  stood  unmoved 
Pure  as  the  expanse  of  heaven;  I  thither  went 
With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 
On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 
Smooth  lake  that  to  me  seemed  another  sky. 
As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 
A  shape  within  the  watery  gleam  appeared, 
Bending  to  look  on  me.    I  started  back; 
It  started  back;  but  pleased  I  soon  returned, 
Pleased  it  returned  as  soon  with  answering  looks 
Of  sympathy  and  love.     There  had  I  fixed 
Mine  eyes  till  now,  and  pined  wi      vain   desire, 
Had  not  a  voice  thus  warned  me :  'What  thou  seest, 
What  there  thou  seest,  fan  creature,  is  thyself;'"  etc. 

— Paradise  Lost,  Book  IV. 

No  one  of  the  fables  of  antiquity  has  been  oftenex 
alluded  to  by  the  poets  than  that  of  Nai  missus.  Here 
are  two  epigrams  which  treat  it  in  different  ways.  The 
first  is  by  Goldsmith: 

"ON  \  BEAUTIFUL  YOUTH,  STRUCK  BLIND  BY  LIGHTNING 

"Sure  'twas  by  Providence  designed, 

Rather  in  pity  than  in  hate, 
That  he  should  be  like  Cupid  blind, 
To  save  him  from  Narcissus'  fate." 

The  other  is  by  Cowper: 

"ON  AN  UGLY  FELLOW 

"Beware,    my    friend,    of    crystal    brook 
Or  fountain,  lest  that  hideous  hook, 

Thy  nose,  thou  chance  to  see; 
Narcissus'  fate  would  then  be  thine, 
And  self-detested  thou  would'st  pine, 

As  self-enamoured  he." 

CLYTIE 

Clytie  was  a  water-nymph  and  in  love  with  Apollo, 
who  made  her  no  return.  So  she  pined  away,  sitting 


HERO  AND  LEANDER  105 

all  day  long  upon  the  cold  ground,  with  her  unbound 
tresses  streaming  over  her  shoulders.  Nine  days  she 
sat  and  tasted  neither  food  nor  drink,  her  own  tears 
and  the  chilly  dew  her  only  food.  She  gazed  on  the 
sun  when  he  rose,  and  as  he  passed  through  his  daily 
course  to  his  setting;  she  saw  no  other  object,  her  face 
turned  constantly  on  him.  At  last,  they  say,  her  limbs 
rooted  in  the  ground,  her  face  became  a  flower1  which 
*urns  on  its  stem  so  as  always  to  face  the  sun  through- 
out its  daily  course;  for  it  retains  to  that  extent  the 
feeling  of  the  nymph  from  whom  it  sprang. 

Hood,  in  his  "Flowers,"  thus  alludes  to  Clytie: 

"I  will  not  have  the  mad  Clytie, 

Whose  head  is  turned  by  the  sun; 
The  tulip  is  a  courtly  quean, 

Whom  therefore  I  will  shun ; 
The  cowslip  is  a  country  wench, 

The  violet  is  a  nun ; — 
But  I  will  woo  the  dainty  rose, 

The  queen  of  every  one." 

The   sunflower  is.  a   favorite  emblem   of   constancy. 
Thus  Moore  uses  it: 

"The  heart  that  has  truly  loved  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close ; 
As  the  sunflower  turns  on  her  god  when  he  sets 
The  same  look  that  she  turned  when  he  rose/' 


HERO   AND   LEANDER 

Leander  was  a  youth  of  Abydos,  a  town  of  the 
Asian  side  of  the  strait  which  separates  Asia  and  Eu- 
rope. On  the  opposite  shore,  in  the  town  of  Sestos, 
lived  the  maiden  Hero,  a  priestess  of  Venus.  Leander 
loved  her,  and  used  to  swim  the  strait  nightly  to  enjoy 
the  company  of  his  mistress,  guided  by  a  torch  which 
she  reared  upon  the  tower  for  the  purpose.  But  one 
night  a  tempest  arose  and  the  sea  was  rough;  his 
strength  failed,  and  he  was  drowned.  The  waves  bore 
his  body  to  the  European  shore,  where  Hero  became 

1The  sunflower. 


106        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

aware  of  his   death,  and   in   her   despair   cast  herself 
down  from  the  tower  into  the  sea  and  perished. 

The  following  sonnet  is  by  Keats: 

"ON  A  PICTURE  OF  LEANDER 

"Come  hither  all  sweet  maidens  soberly, 

Down  looking  aye,  and  with  a  chasten'd  light 
Hid  in  the  fringes  of  your  eyelids  white, 

And  meekly  let  your  fair  hands  joined  be. 

As  if  so  gentle  that  ye  could  not  see, 

Untquch'd,  a  victim  of  your  beauty  bright, 
Sinking  away  to  his  young  spirit's  night, 

Sinking  bewilder' d  'mid  the  dreary  sea. 

*T  is  young  Leander  toiling  to  his  death. 
Nigh  swooning  he  doth  purse  his  weary  lips 

For  Hero's  cheek,  and  smiles  against  her  smile. 
O  horrid  dream !  see  how  his  body  dips 

Dead-heavy;  ar-.is  and  shoulders  gleam  awhile; 

He's  gone ;  up  bubbles  all  his  amorous  breath !" 

The  story  of  Leander's  swimming  the  Hellespont  was 
looked  upon  as  fabulous,  and  the  feat  considered 
impossible,  till  Lord  Byron  proved  its  possibility  by 
performing  it  himself.  In  the  "Bride  of  Abydos"  he 
says, 

"These  limbs  that  buoyant  wave  hath  borne." 

The  distance  in  the  narrowest  part  is  almost  a  mile, 
and  there  is  a  constant  current  setting  out  from  the 
Sea  of  Marmora  into  the  Archipelago.  Since  Byron's 
time  the  feat  has  been  achieved  by  others ;  but  it  yet 
remains  a  test  of  strength  and  skill  in  the  art  of  swim- 
ming sufficient  to  give  a  wide  and  lasting  celebrity  to 
any  one  of  our  readers  who  may  dare  to  make  the  at- 
tempt and  succeed  in  accomplishing  it. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  canto  of  the  same  poem, 
Byron  thus  alludes  to  this  story : 

"The  winds  are  high  on  Helle's  wave, 
As  on  that  night  of  stormiest  water, 
When  Love,  who  sent,  forgot  to  save 
The  young,  the  beautiful,  the  brave, 
The  lonely  hope  of  Sestos'  daughter. 


MINERVA  107 

O,  when  alone  along  the  sky 

The  turret-torch  was  blazing  high, 

Though  rising  gale  and  breaking  foam, 

And  shrieking  sea-birds  warned  him  home; 

And  clouds  aloft  and  tides  below, 

With  signs  and  sounds  forbade  to  go, 

He  could  not  see,  he  would  not  hear 

Or  sound  or  sight  foreboding  fear. 

His  eye  but  saw  that  light  of  love, 

The  only  star  it  hailed  above; 

His  ear  but  rang  with  Hero's  song, 

'Ye  waves,  divide  not  lovers  long.' 

That  tale  is  old,  but  love  anew 

May  nerve  young  hearts  to  prove  as  true." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

MINERVA NIOBE 

MINERVA 

MINERVA,  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  was  the  daughter 
of  Jupiter.  She  was  said  to  have  leaped  forth  from 
his  brain,  mature,  and  in  complete  armor.  She  presided 
over  the  useful  and  ornamental  arts,  both  those  of  men 
— such  as  agriculture  and  navigation — and  those  of 
women, — spinning,  weaving,  and  needlework.  She  was 
also  a  warlike  divinity;  but  it  was  defensive  war  only 
that  she  patronized,  and  she  had  no  sympathy  with 
Mars's  savage  love  of  violence  and  bloodshed.  Athens 
was  her  chosen  seat,  her  own  city,  awarded  to  her  as  the 
prize  of  a  contest  with  Neptune,  who  also  aspired  to 
it.  The  tale  ran  that  in  the  reign  of  Cecrops,  the  first 
king  of  Athens,  the  two  deities  contended  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  city.  The  gods  decreed  that  it  should 
be  awarded  to  that  one  who  produced  the  gift  most 
useful  to  mortals.  Neptune  gave  the  horse;  Minerva 
produced  the  olive.  The  gods  gave  judgment  that  the 
olive  was  the  more  useful  of  the  two,  and  awarded  the 
city  to  the  goddess ;  and  it  was  named  after  her,  Athens, 
her  name  in  Greek  being  Athene. 

There  was  another  contest,  in  which  a  mortal  dareu 


108        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

vjo  come  in  competition  with  Minerva.  That  mortal  was 
Arachne,  a  maiden  who  had  attained  such  skill  in  the 
arts  of  weaving  and  embroidery  that  the  nymphs  them- 
selves would  leave  their  groves  and  fountains  to  come 
and  gaze  upon  her  work.  It  was  not  only  beautiful 
when  it  was  done,  but  beautiful  also  in  the  doing.  To 
watch  her,  as  she  took  the  wool  in  its  rude  state  and 
formed  it  into  rolls,  or  separated  it  with  her  fingers 
and  carded  it  till  it  looked  as  light  and  soft  as  a  cloud, 
or  twirled  the  spindle  with  skilful  touch,  or  wove  the 
web,  or,  after  it  was  woven,  adorned  it  with  her  needle, 
one  would  have  said  that  Minerva  herself  had  taught 
her.  But  this  she  denied,  and  could  not  bear  to  be 
thought  a  pupil  even  of  a  goddess.  "Let  Minerva  try 
her  skill  with  mine,"  said  she;  "if  beaten  I  will  pay  the 
penalty."  Minerva  heard  this  and  was  displeased.  She 
assumed  the  form  of  an  old  woman  and  went  and  gave 
Arachne  some  friendly  advice.  "I  have  had  much  ex- 
perience," said  she,  "and  I  hope  you  will  not  despise 
my  counsel.  Challenge  your  fellow-mortals  as  you  will, 
but  do  not  compete  with  a  goddess.  On  the  contrary, 
I  advise  you  to  ask  her  forgiveness  for  what  you  have 
said,  and  as  she  is  merciful  perhaps  she  will  pardon 
you."  Arachne  stopped  her  spinning  and  looked  at  the 
old  dame  with  anger  in  her  countenance.  "Keep  your 
counsel,"  said  she,  "for  your  daughters  or  handmaids ; 
for  my  part  I  know  what  I  say,  and  I  stand  to  it.  I 
am  not  afraid  of  the  goddess;  let  her  try  her  skill, 
if  she  dare  venture."  "She  comes,"  said  Minerva;  and 
dropping  her  disguise  stood  confessed.  The  nymphs 
bent  low  in  homage,  and  all  the  bystanders  paid  rever- 
ence. Arachne  alone  was  unterrified.  She  blushed,  in- 
deed ;  a  sudden  color  dyed  her  cheek,  and  then  she  grew 
pale.  But  she  stood  to  her  resolve,  and  with  a  foolish 
conceit  of  her  own  skill  rushed  on  her  fate.  Minerva 
forbore  no  longer  nor  interposed  any  further  advice. 
They  proceed  to  the  contest.  Each  takes  her  station 
and  attaches  the  web  to  the  beam.  Then  the  slender 
shuttle  is  passed  in  and  out  among  the  threads.  The 
reed  with  its  fine  teeth  strikes  up  the  woof  into  its 
place  and  compacts  the  web.  Both  work  with  speed; 


MINERVA  109 

their  skilful  hands  move  rapidly,  and  the  excitement  of 
the  contest  makes  the  labor  light.  Wool  of  Tyrian  dye 
is  contrasted  with  that  of  other  colors,  shaded  off  into 
one  another  so  adroitly  that  the  joining  deceives  the  eye. 
Like  the  bow,  whose  long  arch  tinges  the  heavens,  formed 
by  sunbeams  reflected  from  the  shower,1  in  which,  where 
the  colors  meet  they  seem  as  one,  but  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  point  of  contact  are  wholly  different. 

Minerva  wrought  on  her  web  the  scene  of  her  con- 
test with  Neptune.  Twelve  of  the  heavenly  powers  are 
represented,  Jupiter,  with  august  gravity,  sitting  in  the 
midst.  Neptune,  the  ruler  of  the  sea,  holds  his  trident, 
and  appears  to  have  just  smitten  the  earth,  from  which 
a  horse  has  leaped  forth.  Minerva  depicted  herself 
with  helmed  head,  her  ^igis  covering  her  breast.  Such 
was  the  central  circle ;  and  in  the  four  corners  were  rep- 
resented incidents  illustrating  the  displeasure  of  the  gods 
at  such  presumptuous  mortals  as  had  dared  to  contend 
with  them.  These  were  meant  as  warnings  to  her  rival 
to  give  up  the  contest  before  it  was  too  late. 

Arachne  filled  her  web  with  subjects  designedly 
chosen  to  exhibit  the  failings  and  errors  of  the  gods. 
One  scene  represented  Leda  caressing  the  swan,  under 
which  form  Jupiter  had  disguised  himself;  and  another, 
Danae,  in  the  brazen  tower  in  which  her  father  had 
imprisoned  her,  but  where  the  god  effected  his  entrance 
in  the  form  of  a  golden  shower.  Still  another  depicted 
Europa  deceived  by  Jupiter  under  the  disguise  of  a 
bull.  Encouraged  by  the  tameness  of  the  animal  Europa 
ventured  to  mount  his  back,  whereupon  Jupiter  ad- 
vanced into  the  sea  and  swam  with  her  to  Crete.  You 
would  have  thought  it  was  a  real  bull,  so  naturally  was 
it  wrought,  and  so  natural  the  water  in  which  it  swam. 
She  seemed  to  look  with  longing  eyes  back  upon  the 
shore  she  was  leaving,  and  to  call  to  her  companions  for 
help.  She  appeared  to  shudder  with  terror  at  the  sight 
of  the  heaving  waves,  and  to  draw  back  her  feet  from 
the  water. 

Arachne  filled  her  canvas  with  similar  subjects,  won- 

*This  correct  description  of  the  rainbow  is  literally  translated  fron: 
Ovid. 


110        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

derfully  well  done,  but  strongly  marking  her  presump- 
tion and  impiety.  Minerva  could  not  forbear  to  admire, 
yet  felt  indignant  at  the  insult.  She  struck  the  web  with 
her  shuttle  and  rent  it  in  pieces;  she  then  touched  the 
forehead  of  Arachne  and  made  her  feel  her  guilt  and 
shame.  She  could  not  endure  it  and  went  and  hanged 
herself.  Minerva  pitied  her  as  she  saw  her  suspended 
by  a  rope.  "Live,"  she  said,  "guilty  woman!  and  that 
you  may  preserve  the  memory  of  this  lesson,  continue 
to  hang,  both  you  and  your  descendants,  to  all  future 
times."  She  sprinkled  her  with  the  juices  of  aconite, 
and  immediately  her  hair  came  off,  and  her  nose  and 
ears  likewise.  Her  form  shrank  up,  and  her  head  grew 
smaller  yet;  her  fingers  cleaved  to  her  side  and  served 
for  legs.  All  the  rest  of  her  is  body,  out  of  which  she 
spins  her  thread,  often  hanging  suspended  by  it,  in  the 
same  attitude  as  when  Minerva  touched  her  and  trans- 
formed her  into  a  spider. 

Spenser  tells  the  story  of  Arachne  in  his  "Muiopot* 
mos,"  adhering  very  closely  to  his  master  Ovid,  but 
improving  upon  him  in  the  conclusion  of  the  story. 
The  two  stanzas  which  follow  tell  what  was  done  after 
the  goddess  had  depicted  her  creation  of  the  olive  tree: 

"Amongst  these  leaves  she  made  a  Butterfly, 
With  excellent  device  and  wondrous  slight, 
Fluttering  among  the  olives  wantonly, 
That  seemed  to  live,  so  like  it  was  in  sight; 
The  velvet  nap  which  on  his  wings  doth  lie, 
The  silken  down  with  which  his  back  is  dight, 
His  broad  outstretched  horns,  his  hairy  thighs, 
His  glorious  colors,  and  his  glistening  eyes. 

"Which  when  Arachne  saw,  as  overlaid 
And  mastered  with  workmanship  so  rare, 
She  stood  astonied  long,  ne  aught  gainsaid; 
And  with  fast-fixed  eves  on  her  did  stare, 
And  by  her  silence,  sign  of  one  dismayed, 
The  victory  did  yield  her  as  her  share: 
Yet  did  she  inly  fret  and  felly  burn, 
And  all  her  blood  to  poisonous  rancor  turn." 

1  Sir  James  Mackintosh  says  of  this,  "Do  you  think  that  even  a  Chinese 
could  paint  the  gay  colors  of  a  butterfly  with  more  minute  exactness  than 
the  following  lines:  'The  velvet  pap/  etc.?"— Life,  Vol.  II..  246. 


NIOBE  111 

And  so  the  metamorphosis  is  caused  by  Arachne's  own 
mortification  and  vexation,  and  not  by  any  direct  act 
of  the  goddess. 

The  following  specimen  of  old-fashioned  gallantry  is 
by  Garrick: 

"UPON  A  LADY'S  EMBROIDERY 

"Arachne  once,  as  poets  tell, 

A  goddess  at  her  art  defied, 
And  soon  the  daring  mortal  fell 
The  hapless  victim  of  her  pride. 

"O,  then  beware  Arachne's  fate; 

Be  prudent,  Chloe,  and  submit, 
For  you'll  most  surely  meet  her  hate, 
Who  rival  both  her  art  and  wit." 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Palace  of  Art,"  describing  the 
works  of  art  with  which  the  palace  was  adorned,  thus 
alludes  to  Europa: 

".    .     .    sweet  Europa's  mantle  blew  unclasped 

From  off  her  shoulder,  backward  borne, 
From  one  hand  drooped  a  crocus,  one  hand  grasped 
The  mild  bull's  golden  horn." 

In  his  "Princess"  there  is  this  allusion  to  Danae: 

"Now  lies  the  earth  all  Danae  to  the  stars, 
And  all  thy  heart  lies  open  unto  me." 


NIOBE 

The  fate  of  Arachne  was  noised  abroad  through  all 
the  country,  and  served  as  a  warning  to  all  presump- 
tuous mortals  not  to  compare  themselves  with  the  divini- 
ties. But  one,  and  she  a  matron  too,  failed  to  learn 
the  lesson  of  humility.  It  was  Niobe,  the  queen  of 
Thebes.  She  had  indeed  much  to  be  proud  of;  but  it 
was  not  her  husband's  fame,  nor  her  own  beauty,  nor 
their  great  descent,  nor  the  power  of  their  kingdom  that 
elated  her.  It  was  her  children;  and  truly  the  happiest 
of  mothers  would  Niobe  have  been  if  only  she  had  not 
claimed  to  be  so.  It  was  on  occasion  of  the  annual  cele- 


112        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

bration  in  honor  of  Latona  and  her  offspring,  Apollo 
and  Diana, — when  the  people  of  Thebes  were  assem- 
bled, their  brows  crowned  with  laurel,  bearing  frankin- 
cense to  the  altars  and  paying  their  vows, — that  Niobe 
appeared  among  the  crowd.  Her  attire  was  splendid  with 
gold  and  gems,  and  her  aspect  beautiful  as  the  face  of 
an  angry  woman  can  be.  She  stood  and  surveyed  the 
people  with  haughty  looks.  "What  folly,"  said  she,  "is 
this! — to  prefer  beings  whom  you  never  saw  to  those 
who  stand  before  your  eyes !  Why  should  Latona  be 
honored  with  worship,  and  none  be  paid  to  me?  My 
father  was  Tantalus,  who  was  received  as  a  guest  at  the 
table  of  the  gods;  my  mother  was  a  goddess.  My  hus- 
band built  and  rules  this  city,  Thebes,  and  Phrygia  is 
my  paternal  inheritance.  Wherever  I  turn  my  eyes  I 
survey  the  elements  of  my  power;  nor  is  my  form  and 
presence  unworthy  of  a  goddess.  To  all  this  let  me  add 
I  have  seven  sons  and  seven  daughters,  and  look  for 
sons-in-law  and  daughters-in-law  of  pretensions  worthy 
of  my  alliance.  Have  I  not  cause  for  pride?  Will  you 
prefer  to  me  this  Latona,  the  Titan's  daughter,  with 
her  two  children?  I  have  seven  times  as  m,any.  For- 
tunate indeed  am  I,  and  fortunate  I  shall  remain!  Will 
any  one  deny  this?  My  abundance  is  my  security.  I 
feel  myself  too  strong  for  Fortune  to  subdue.  She  may 
take  from  me  much;  I  shall  still  have  much  left.  Were 
I  to  lose  some  of  my  children,  I  should  hardly  be  left 
as  poor  as  Latona  with  her  two  only.  Away  with  you 
from  these  solemnities, — put  off  the  laurel  from  your 
brows, — have  done  with  this  worship!"  The  people 
obeyed,  and  left  the  sacred  services  uncompleted. 

The  goddess  was  indignant.  On  the  Cynthian  moun- 
tain top  where  she  dwelt  she  thus  addressed  her  son  and 
daughter:  "My  children,  I  who  have  been  so  proud  of 
you  both,  and  have  been  used  to  hold  myself  second 
to  none  of  the  goddesses  except  Juno  alone,  begin  now 
to  doubt  whether  I  am  indeed  a  goddess.  I  shall  be  de- 
prived of  my  worship  altogether  unless  you  protect  me." 
She  was  proceeding  in  this  strain,  but  Apollo  interrupted 
her.  "Say  no  more,"  said  he;  "speech  only  delays  pun- 
ishment." So  said  Diana  also.  Darting  through  the  air, 


NIOBE  113 

veiled  in  clouds,  they  alighted  on  the  towers  of  the  city. 
Spread  out  before  the  gates  was  a  broad  plain,  where 
the  youth  of  the  city  pursued  their  warlike  sports.  The 
sons  of  Niobe  were  there  with  the  rest, — some  mounted 
on  spirited  horses  richly  caparisoned,  some  driving  gay 
chariots.  Ismenos,  the  first-born,  as  he  guided  his  foam- 
ing steeds,  struck  with  an  arrow  from  above,  cried  out, 
"Ah  me!"  dropped  the  reins,  and  fell  lifeless.  Another, 
hearing  the  sound  of  the  bow, — like  a  boatman  who  sees 
the  storm  gathering  and  makes  all  sail  for  the  port, — 
gave  the  reins  to  his  horses  and  attempted  to  escape. 
The  inevitable  arrow  overtook  him  as  he  fled.  Two 
others,  younger  boys,  just  from  their  tasks,  had  gone  to 
the  playground  to  have  a  game  of  wrestling.  As  they 
stood  breast  to  breast,  one  arrow  pierced  them  both. 
They  uttered  a  cry  together,  together  cast  a  parting  look 
around  them,  and  together  breathed  their  last.  Al- 
phenor,  an  elder  brother,  seeing  them  fall,  hastened  to 
the  spot  to  render  assistance,  and  fell  stricken  in  the 
act  of  brotherly  duty.  One  only  was  left,  Ilioneus.  He 
raised  his  arms  to  heaven  to  try  whether  prayer  might 
not  avail.  "Spare  me,  ye  gods!"  he  cried,  addressing 
all,  in  his  ignorance  that  all  needed  not  his  intercessions; 
and  Apollo  would  have  spared  him,  but  the  arrow  had 
already  left  the  string,  and  it  was  too  late. 

The  terror  of  the  people  and  grief  of  the  attendants 
soon  made  Niobe  acquainted  with  what  had  taken  place. 
She  could  hardly  think  it  possible;  she  was  indignant 
that  the  gods  had  dared  and  amazed  that  they  had  been 
able  to  do  it.  Her  husband,  Amphion,  overwhelmed 
with  the  blow,  destroyed  himself.  Alas!  how  different 
was  this  Niobe  from  her  who  had  so  lately  driven  away 
the  people  from  the  sacred  rites,  and  held  her  stately 
course  through  the  city,  the  envy  of  her  friends,  now 
the  pity  even  of  her  foes !  She  knelt  over  the  lifeless 
bodies,  and  kissed  now  one,  now  another  of  her  dead 
sons.  Raising  her  pallid  arms  to  heaven,  "Cruel  La- 
tona,"  said  she,  "feed  full  your  rage  with  my  anguish ! 
Satiate  your  hard  heart,  while  I  follow  to  the  grave  my 
seven  sons.  Yet  where  is  your  triumph?  Bereaved  as 
I  am,  I  am  still  richer  than  you,  my  conqueror."  Scarce 


114        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

had  she  spoken,  when  the  bow  sounded  and  struck  ter- 
ror into  all  hearts  except  Niobe's  alone.  She  was  brave 
from  excess  of  grief.  The  sisters  stood  m  garments 
of  mourning  over  the  biers  of  their  dead  brothers.  One 
fell,  struck  by  an  arrow,  and  died  on  the  corpse  she 
was  bewailing.  Another,  attempting  to  console  her 
mother,  suddenly  ceased  to  speak,  and  sank  lifeless  to 
the  earth.  A  third  tried  to  escape  by  flight,  a  fourth  by 
concealment,  another  stood  trembling,  uncertain  what 
course  to  take.  Six  were  now  dead,  and  only  one  re- 
mained, whom  the  mother  held  clasped  in  her  arms,  and 
covered  as  it  were  with  her  whole  body.  "Spare  me 
one,  and  that  the  youngest!  O  spare  me  one  of  so 
many!"  she  cried;  and  while  she  spoke,  that  one  fell 
dead.  Desolate  she  sat,  among  sons,  daughters,  hus- 
band, all  dead,  and  seemed  torpid  with  grief.  The 
breeze  moved  not  her  hair,  no  color  was  on  her  cheek, 
her  eyes  glared  fixed  and  immovable,  there  was  no  sign 
of  life  about  her.  Her  very  tongue  cleaved  to  the  roof 
of  her  mouth,  and  her  veins  ceased  to  convey  the  tide 
of  life.  Her  neck  bent  not,  her  arms  made  no  gesture, 
her  foot  no  step.  She  was  changed  to  stone,  within  and 
without.  Yet  tears  continued  to  flow;  and  borne  on  a 
whirlwind  to  her  native  mountain,  she  still  remains,  a 
mass  of  rock,  from  which  a  trickling  stream  flows,  the 
tribute  of  her  never-ending  grief. 

The  story  of  Niobe  has  furnished  Byron  with  a  fine 
illustration  of  the  fallen  condition  of  modern  Rome: 

"The  Niobe  of  nations!  there  she  stands, 
Childless  and  crownless  in  her  voiceless  woe; 
An  empty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 
Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago ; 
The  Scipios'  tomb  contains  no  ashes  now: 
The  very  sepulchres  lie  tenantless 
Of  their  heroic  dwellers;  dost  thou  flow, 
Old  Tiber!  through  a  marble  wilderness? 
Rise  with  thy  yellow  waves,  and  mantle  her  distress." 

Childe  Harold,  IV.  79. 

This  affecting  story  has  been  made  the  subject  of  a 
celebrated  statue  in  the  imperial  gallerv  of  Florence.    It 


THE  GRJEJE  AND  THE  GORGONS  115 

is  the  principal  figure  of  a  group  supposed  to  have  been 
originally  arranged  in  the  pediment  of  a  temple.  The 
figure  of  the  mother  clasped  by  the  arm  of  her  terrified 
child  is  one  of  the  most  admired  of  the  ancient  statues. 
It  ranks  with  the  Laocoon  and  the  Apollo  among  the 
masterpieces  of  art.  The  following  is  a  translation  of 
a  Greek  epigram  supposed  to  relate  to  this  statue: 

"To  stone  the  gods  have  changed  her,  but  in  vain; 
The  sculptor's  art  has  made  her  breathe  again." 

Tragic  as  is  the  story  of  Niobe,  we  cannot  forbear 
to  smile  at  the  use  Moore  has  made  of  it  in  "Rhymes 
on  the  Road" : 

"'Twas  in  his  carriage  the  sublime 
Sir  Richard  Blackmore  used  to  rhyme, 
And,  if  the  wits  don't  do  him  wrong, 
'Twixt  death  and  epics  passed  his  time, 
Scribbling  and  killing  all  day  long; 

Like  Phoebus  in  his  car  at  ease, 
Now  warbling  forth  a  lofty  song, 
Now  murdering  the  young  Niobes." 

Sir  Richard  Blackmore  was  a  physician,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  very  prolific  and  very  tasteless  poet,  whose 
works  are  now  forgotten,  unless  when  recalled  to  mind 
by  some  wit  like  Moore  for  the  sake  of  a  joke. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE    GKJE&   OR   GRAY-MAIDS — PERSEUS — MEDUSA 

ATLAS ANDROMEDA 

THE    GRJEM   AND   THE   GORGONS 

THE  Grsese  were  three  sisters  who  were  gray-haired 
from  their  birth,  whence  their  name.  The  Gorgons  were 
monstrous  females  with  huge  teeth  like  those  of  swine, 
brazen  claws,  and  snaky  hair.  None  of  these  beings 


116        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

make  much  figure  in  mythology  except  Medusa,  the  Gor- 
gon, whose  story  wt  shall  next  advert  to.  We  mention 
them  chiefly  to  introduce  an  ingenious  theory  of  some 
modern  writers,  namely,  that  the  Gorgons  and  Graeae 
were  only  personifications  of  the  terrors  of  the  sea, 
the  former  denoting  the  strong  billows  of  the  wide  open 
main,  and  the  latter  the  white-c  rested  waves  that  dash 
against  the  rocks  of  the  coast.  Their  names  in  Greek 
signify  the  above  epithets. 

PERSEUS  AND  MEDUSA 

Perseus  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Danae.  His  grand- 
father Acrisius,  alarmed  by  an  oracle  which  had  told 
him  that  his  daughter's  child  would  be  the  instrument  of 
his  death,  caused  the  mother  and  child  to  be  shut  up  in 
a  chest  and  set  adrift  on  the  sea.  The  chest  floated 
towards  Seriphus,  where  it  was  found  by  a  fisherman 
who  conveyed  the  mother  and  infant  to  Polydectes,  the 
king  of  the  country,  by  whom  they  were  treated  with 
kindness.  When  Perseus  was  grown  up  Polydectes  sent 
him  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Medusa,  a  terrible  mon- 
ster who  had  laid  waste  the  country.  She  was  once 
a  beautiful  maiden  whose  hair  was  her  chief  glory,  but 
as  she  dared  to  vie  in  beauty  with  Minerva,  the  goddess 
deprived  her  of  her  charms  and  changed  her  beautiful 
ringlets  into  hissing  serpents.  She  became  a  cruel  mon- 
ster of  so  frightful  an  aspect  that  no  living  thing  could 
behold  her  without  being  turned  into  stone.  All  around 
the  cavern  where  she  dwelt  might  be  seen  the  stony 
figures  of  men  and  animals  which  had  chanced  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  her  and  had  been  petrified  with  the  sight. 
Perseus,  favored  by  Minerva  and  Mercury,  the  former 
of  whom  lent  him  her  shield  and  the  latter  his  winged 
shoes,  approached  Medusa  while  she  slept,  and  taking 
care  not  to  look  directly  at  her,  but  guided  by  her  image 
reflected  in  the  bright  shield  which  he  bore,  he  cut  off 
her  head  and  gave  it  to  Minerva,  who  fixed  it  in  the 
middle  of  her  - 


Milton,  in  his  "Comus,"  thus  alludes  to  the 


PERSEUS  AND  ATLAS  117 

"What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon-shield 
That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquered  virgin, 
Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congealed  stone, 
But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 
And  noble  grace  that  dashed  brute  violence 
With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe!" 

Armstrong,  the  poet  of  the  "Art  of  Preserving 
Health,"  thus  describes  the  effect  of  frost  upon  the 
Waters : 

"Now  blows  the  surly  North  and  chills  throughout 
The  stiffening  regions,  while  by  stronger  charms 
Than  Circe  e'er  or  fell  Medea  brewed, 
Each  brook  that  wont  to  prattle  to  its  banks 
Lies  all  bestilled  and  wedged  betwixt  its  banks, 
Nor  moves  the  withered  reeds    .    .    . 
The  surges  baited  by  the  fierce  North-east, 
Tossing  with  fretful  spleen  their  angry  heads, 
E'en  in  the  foam  of  all  their  madness  struck 
To  monumental  ice. 

Such  execution, 

So  stern,  so  sudden,  wrought  the  grisly  aspect 
Of  terrible  Medusa, 

When  wandering  through  the  woods  she  turned  to  stone 
Their  savage  tenants ;  just  as  the  foaming  Lion 
Sprang  furious  on  his  prey,  her  cpeedier  power 
Outran  his  haste, 

And  fixed  in  that  fierce  attitude  he  stands 
Like  Rage  in  marble !" 

— Imitations  of  Shaksfreare. 


PERSEUS   AND   ATLAS 

After  the  slaughter  of  Medusa,  Perseus,  bearing  with 
him  the  head  of  the  Gorgon,  flew  far  and  wide,  over 
land  and  sea.  As  night  came  on,  he  reached  the  western 
limit  of  the  earth,  where  the  sun  goes  down.  Here  he 
would  gladly  have  rested  till  morning.  It  was  the  realm 
of  King  Atlas,  whose  bulk  surpassed  that  of  all  other 
men.  He  was  rich  in  flocks  and  herds  and  had  no 
neighbor  or  rival  to  dispute  hh  state.  But  his  chief 
pride  was  in  his  gardens,  whose  fruit  was  of  gofd,  hang- 
ing from  golden  branches,  half  hie'  with  golden  leaves. 
Perseus  said  to  him,  "I  come  as  a  guest.  If  you  honor 
illustrious  descent,  I  claim  Jupiter  for  my  father;  if 


118        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

mighty  deeds,  I  plead  the  conquest  of  the  Gorgon.  I 
seek  rest  and  food."  But  Atlas  remembered  that  an  an- 
cient prophecy  had  warned  him  that  a  son  of  Jove  should 
one  day  rob  him  of  his  golden  apples.  So  he  answered, 
"Begone !  or  neither  your  false  claims  of  glory  nor  par- 
entage shall  protect  you;"  and  he  attempted  to  thrust 
him  out.  Perseus,  finding  the  giant  too  strong  for  him, 
said,  "Since  you  value  my  friendship  so  little,  deign  to 
accept  a  present;"  and  turning  his  face  away,  he  held 
up  the  Gorgon's  head.  Atlas,  with  all  his  bulk,  was 
changed  into  stone.  His  beard  and  hair  became  forests, 
his  arms  and  shoulders  cliffs,  his  head  a  summit,  and 
his  bones  rocks.  Each  part  increased  in  bulk  till  he  be- 
came a  mountain,  and  (such  was  the  pleasure  of  the 
gods)  heaven  with  all  its  stars  rests  upon  his  shoulders. 

THE   SEA- MONSTER 

Perseus,  continuing  his  flight,  arrived  at  the  country 
of  the  Ethiopians,  of  which  Cepheus  was  king.  Cas- 
siopeia his  queen,  proud  of  her  beauty,  had  dared  to 
compare  herself  to  the  Sea-Nymphs,  which  roused  their 
indignation  to  such  a  degree  that  they  sent  a  prodigious 
sea-monster  to  ravage  the  coast.  To  appease  the  deities, 
Cepheus  was  directed  by  the  oracle  to  expose  his 
daughter  Andromeda  to  be  devoured  by  the  monster. 
As  Perseus  looked  down  from  his  aerial  height  he  beheld 
the  virgin  chained  to  a  rock,  and  waiting  the  approach  of 
the  serpent.  She  was  so  pale  and  motionless  that  if  it 
had  not  been  for  her  flowing  tears  and  her  hair  that 
moved  in  the  breeze,  he  would  have  taken  her  for  a 
marble  statue.  He  was  so  startled  at  the  sight  that  he  al- 
most forgot  to  wave  his  wings.  As  he  hovered  over  her 
he  said,  "O  virgin,  undeserving  of  those  chains,  but 
rather  of  such  as  bind  fond  lovers  together,  tell  me,  I 
beseech  you,  your  name,  and  the  name  of  your  country, 
and  why  you  are  thus  bound."  At  first  she  was  silent 
from  modesty,  and,  if  she  could,  would  have  hid  her 
face  with  her  hands ;  but  when  he  repeated  his  questions, 
for  fear  she  might  be  thought  guilty  of  some  fault  which 
she  dared  not  tell,  she  disclosed  her  name  and  that  of 


THE  SEA-MONSTER  119 

her  country,  and  her  mother's  pride  of  beauty.  Before 
she  had  done  speaking,  a  sound  was  heard  off  upon  the 
water,  and  the  sea-monster  appeared,  with  his  head 
raised  above  the  surface,  cleaving  the  waves  with  his 
broad  breast.  The  virgin  shrieked,  the  father  and  mother 
who  had  now  arrived  at  the  scene,  wretched  both,  but 
the  mother  more  justly  so,  stood  by,  not  able  to  afford 
protection,  but  only  to  pour  forth  lamentations  and  to 
embrace  the  victim.  Then  spoke  Perseus:  "There  will 
be  time  enough  for  tears;  this  hour  is  all  we  have  for 
rescue.  My  rank  as  the  son  of  Jove  and  my  renown  as 
the  slayer  of  the  Gorgon  might  make  me  acceptable  as 
a  suitor;  but  I  will  try  to  win  her  by  services  rendered, 
if  the  gods  will  only  be  propitious.  If  she  be  rescued  by 
my  valor,  I  demand  that  she  be  my  reward."  The  par- 
ents consent  (how  could  they  hesitate?)  and  promise  a 
royal  dowry  with  her. 

And  now  the  monster  was  within  the  range  of  a  stone 
thrown  by  a  skilful  slinger,  when  with  a  sudden  bound 
the  youth  soared  into  the  air.  As  an  eagle,  when  from 
his  lofty  flight  he  sees  a  serpent  basking  in  the  sun, 
pounces  upon  him  and  seizes  him  by  the  neck  to  prevent 
him  from  turning  his  head  round  and  using  his  fangs, 
so  the  youth  darted  down  upon  the  back  of  the  monster 
and  plunged  his  sword  into  its  shoulder.  Irritated  by 
the  wound,  the  monster  raised  himself  in  the  air,  then 
plunged  into  the  depth ;  then,  like  a  wild  boar  surrounded 
by  a  pack  of  barking  dogs,  turned  swiftly  from  side  to 
side,  while  the  youth  eluded  its  attacks  by  means  of  his 
wings.  Wherever  he  can  find  a  passage  for  his  sword 
between  the  scales  he  makes  a  wound,  piercing  now  the 
side,  now  the  flank,  as  it  slopes  towards  the  tail.  The 
brute  spouts  from  his  nostrils  water  mixed  with  blood. 
The  wings  of  the  hero  are  wet  with  it,  and  he  dares  no 
longer  trust  to  them.  Alighting  on  a  rock  which  rose 
above  the  waves,  and  holding  on  by  a  projecting  frag- 
ment, as  the  monster  floated  near  he  gave  him  a  death 
stroke.  The  people  who  had  gathered  on  the  shore 
shouted  so  that  the  hills  reechoed  the  sound.  The  par- 
ents, transported  with  joy,  embraced  their  future  son-in- 
law,  calling  him  their  deliverer  and  the  savior  of  their 


120        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

house,  and  the  virgin,  both  cause  and  reward  of  the  con- 
test, descended  from  the  rock. 

Cassiopeia  was  an  ^Ethiopian,  and  consequently,  in 
spite  of  her  boasted  beauty,  black;  at  least  so  Milton 
seems  to  have  thought,  who  alludes  to  this  story  in  his 
"Penseroso,"  where  he  addresses  Melancholy  as  the 

".     .     .     .     goddess,  sage  and  holy, 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  cense  of  human  sight, 
And,  therefore,  to  our  weaker  view 
O'erlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue. 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's  sister  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starred  /Ethiop  queen  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 
The  sea-nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended." 

Cassiopeia  is  called  "the  starred  JEthiop  queen"  be- 
cause after  her  death  she  was  placed  among  the  stars, 
forming  the  constellation  of  that  name.  Though  she 
attained  this  honor,  yet  the  Sea-Nymphs,  her  old  ene- 
mies, prevailed  so  far  as  to  cause  her  to  be  placed  in  that 
part  of  the  heaven  near  the  pole,  where  every  night  she 
is  half  the  time  held  with  her  head  downward,  to  give 
her  a  lesson  of  humility. 

Memnon  was  an  ^Ethiopian  prince,  of  whom  we 
shall  tell  in  a  future  chapter. 


THE   WEDDING   FEAST 

The  joyful  parents,  with  Perseus  and  Andromeda, 
repaired  to  the  palace,  where  a  banquet  was  spread  for 
them,  and  all  was  joy  and  festivity.  But  suddenly  a 
noise  was  heard  of  warlike  clamor,  and  Phineus,  the 
betrothed  of  the  virgin,  with  a  party  of  his  adherents, 
burst  in,  demanding  the  maiden  as  his  own.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Cepheus  remonstrated — "You  should  have 
claimed  her  when  she  lay  bound  to  the  rock,  the  mon- 
ster's victim.  The  sentence  of  the  gods  dooming  her  to 
such  a  fate  dissolved  all  engagements,  as  death  itself 


f  HE  WEDDING  FEAST  121 

would  have  done."  Phineus  made  no  reply,  but  hurled 
his  javelin  at  Perseus,  but  it  missed  its  mark  and  fell 
harmless.  Perseus  would  have  thrown  his  in  turn,  but 
the  cowardly  assailant  ran  and  took  shelter  behind  the 
altar.  But  his  act  was  a  signal  for  an  onset  by  his  band 
upon  the  guests  of  Cepheus.  They  defended  themselves 
and  a  general  conflict  ensued,  the  old  king  retreating 
from  the  scene  after  fruitless  expostulations,  calling  the 
gods  to  witness  that  he  was  guiltless  of  this  outrage  on 
the  rights  of  hospitality. 

Perseus  and  his  friends  maintained  for  some  time  the 
unequal  contest;  but  the  numbers  of  the  assailants  were 
too  great  for  them,  and  destruction  seemed  inevitable, 
when  a  sudden  thought  struck  Perseus, — "I  will  make 
my  enemy  defend  me."  Then  with  a  loud  voice  he  ex- 
claimed, "If  I  have  any  friend  here  let  him  turn  away 
his  eyes !"  and  held  aloft  the  Gorgon's  head.  "Seek  not 
to  frighten  us  with  your  jugglery,"  said  Thescelus,  and 
raised  his  javelin  in  act  to  throw,  and  became  stone  in  the 
very  attitude.  Ampyx  was  about  to  plunge  his  sword 
into  the  body  of  a  prostrate  foe,  but  his  arm  stiffened 
and  he  could  neither  thrust  forward  nor  withdraw  it. 
Another,  in  the  midst  of  a  vociferous  challenge,  stopped, 
his  mouth  open,  but  no  sound  issuing.  One  of  Perseus's 
friends,  Aconteus,  caught  sight  of  the  Gorgon  and  stiff- 
ened like  the  rest.  Astyages  struck  him  with  his  sword, 
but  instead  of  wounding,  it  recoiled  with  a  ringing 
noise. 

Phineus  beheld  this  dreadful  result  of  his  unjust  ag- 
gression, and  felt  confounded.  He  called  aloud  to  his 
friends,  but  got  no  answer;  he  touched  them  and  found 
them  stone.  Falling  on  his  knees  and  stretching  out  his 
hands  to  Perseus,  but  turning  his  head  away  he  begged 
for  mercy.  "Take  all,"  said  he,  "give  me  but  my  life." 
"Base  coward,"  said  Perseus,  "thus  much  I  will  grant 
you;  no  weapon  shall  touch  you;  moreover,  you  shall 
be  preserved  in  my  house  as  a  memorial  of  these  events." 
So  saying,  he  held  the  Gorgon's  head  to  the  side  where 
Phineus  was  looking,  and  in  the  very  form  in  which  he 
knelt,  with  his  hands  outstretched  and  face  averted,  he 
became  fixed  immovably,  a  mass  of  stone! 


122        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  following  allusion  to  Perseus  is  from  Milman's 
"Samor" : 

"As  'mid  the  fabled  Libyan  bridal  stood 
Perseus  in  stern  tranquillity  of  wrath, 
Half  stood,  half  floated  on  his  ankle-plumes 
Out-swelling,  while  the  bright  face  on  his  shield 
Looked  into  stone  the  raging  fray ;  so  rose, 
But  with  no  magic  arms,  wearing  alone 
Th'  appalling  and  control  of  his  firm  look, 
The  Briton  Samor ;  at  his  rising  awe 
Went  abroad,  and  the  riotous  hall  was  mute." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MONSTERS 

GIANTS,    SPHINX,    PEGASUS    AND    CHIMERA,    CENTAURS, 
GRIFFIN,  AND  PYGMIES 

MONSTERS,  in  the  language  of  mythology,  were  beings 
of  unnatural  proportions  or  parts,  usually  regarded  with 
terror,  as  possessing  immense  strength  and  ferocity, 
which  they  employed  for  the  injury  and  annoyance  of 
men.  Some  of  them  were  supposed  to  combine  the  mem- 
bers of  different  animals;  such  were  the  Sphinx  and 
Chimaera;  and  to  these  all  the  terrible  qualities  of  wild 
beasts  were  attributed,  together  with  human  sagacity  and 
faculties.  Others,  as  the  giants,  differed  from  men  chiefly 
in  their  size;  and  in  this  particular  we  must  recognize 
a  wide  distinction  among  them.  The  human  giants,  if 
so  they  may  be  called,  such  as  the  Cyclopes,  Antaeus, 
Orion,  and  others,  must  be  supposed  not  to  be  altogether 
disproportioned  to  human  beings,  for  they  mingled  in 
love  and  strife  with  them.  But  the  superhuman  giants, 
who  warred  with  the  gods,  were  of  vastly  larger  dimen- 
sions. Tityus,  we  are  told,  when  stretched  on  the  plain, 
covered  nine  acres,  and  Enceladus  required  the  whole  of 
Mount  ^Etna  to  be  laid  upon  him  to  keep  him  down. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  the  war  which  the  giants 
waged  against  the  gods,  and  of  its  result.  While  this 


THE  SPHINX  123 

war  lasted  the  giants  proved  a  formidable  enemy.  Some 
of  them,  like  Briareus,  had  a  hundred  arms;  others,  like 
Typhon,  breathed  out  fire.  At  one  time  they  put  the  gods 
to  such  fear  that  they  fled  into  Egypt  and  hid  them- 
selves under  various  forms.  Jupiter  took  the  form  of  a 
ram,  whence  he  was  afterwards  worshipped  in  Egypt  as 
the  god  Ammon,  with  curved  horns.  Apollo  became  a 
crow,  Bacchus  a  goat,  Diana  a  cat,  Juno  a  cow,  Venus  a 
fish,  Mercury  a  bird.  At  another  time  the  giants  at- 
tempted to  climb  up  into  heaven,  and  for  that  purpose 
took  up  the  mountain  Ossa  and  piled  it  on  Pelion.1 
They  were  at  last  subdued  by  thunderbolts,  which  Min- 
erva invented,  and  taught  Vulcan  and  his  Cyclopes  to 
make  for  Jupiter. 

THE  SPHINX 

Laius,  king  of  Thebes,  was  warned  by  an  oracle  that 
there  was  danger  to  his  throne  and  life  if  his  new-born 
son  should  be  suffered  to  grow  up.  He  therefore  commit- 
ted the  child  to  the  care  of  a  herdsman  with  orders  to  de- 
stroy him;  but  the  herdsman,  moved  with  pity,  yet  not 
daring  entirely  to  disobey,  tied  up  the  child  by  the  feet 
and  left  him  hanging  to  the  branch  of  a  tree.  In  this 
condition  the  infant  was  found  by  a  peasant,  who  car- 
ried him  to  his  master  and  mistress,  by  whom  he  was 
adopted  and  called  (Edipus,  or  Swollen-foot. 

Many  years  afterwards  Laius  being  on  his  way  to 
Delphi,  accompanied  only  by  one  attendant,  met  in  a  nar- 
row road  a  young  man  also  driving  in  a  chariot.  On  his 
refusal  to  leave  the  way  at  their  command  the  attendant 
killed  one  of  his  horses,  and  the  stranger,  filled  with  rage, 
slew  both  Laius  and  his  attendant.  The  young  man  was 
(Edipus,  who  thus  unknowingly  became  the  slayer  of 
his  own  father. 

Shortly  after  this  event  the  city  of  Thebes  was  afflicted 
with  a  monster  which  infested  the  highroad.  It  was 
called  the  Sphinx.  It  had  the  body  of  a  lion  and  th* 
upper  part  of  a  woman.  It  lay  crouched  on  the  top  of 
a  rock,  and  arrested  all  travellers  who  came  that  way. 

1Scc    Proverbial    Expressions. 


124        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

proposing  to  them  a  riddle,  with  the  condition  that  those 
who  could  solve  it  should  pass  safe,  but  those  who 
failed  should  be  killed.  Not  one  had  yet  succeeded 
in  solving  it,  and  all  had  been  slain.  CEdipus  was  not 
daunted  by  these  alarming  accounts,  but  boldly  advanced 
to  the  trial.  The  Sphinx  asked  him,  "What  animal  is 
that  which  in  the  morning  gees  on  four  feet,  at  noon  on 
two,  and  in  the  evening  upon  three?"  CEdipus  replied, 
"Man,  who  in  childhood  creeps  on  hands  and  knees,  in 
manhood  walks  erect,  and  in  old  age  with  the  aid  of  a 
staff."  The  Sphinx  was  so  mortified  at  the  solving  of 
her  riddle  that  she  cast  herself  down  from  the  rock  and 
perished. 

The  gratitude  of  the  people  for  their  deliverance  was 
so  great  that  they  made  CEdipus  their  king,  giving  him 
in  marriage  their  queen  Jocasta.  CEdipus,  ignorant  of 
his  parentage,  had  already  become  the  slayer  of  his  fa- 
ther; in  marrying  the  queen  he  became  the  husband  of 
his  mother.  These  horrors  remained  undiscovered,  till  at 
length  Thebes  was  afflicted  with  famine  and  pestilence, 
and  the  oracle  being  consulted,  the  double  crime  of 
CEdipus  came  to  light.  Jocasta  put  an  end  to  her  own 
life,  and  GEdipus,  seized  with  madness,  tore  out  his  eyes 
and  wandered  away  from  Thebes,  dreaded  and  aban- 
doned by  all  except  his  daughters,  who  faithfully  ad- 
hered to  him,  till  after  a  tedious  period  of  miserable 
wandering  he  found  the  termination  of  his  wretched 
life. 

PEGASUS   AND  THE   CHIMERA 

When  Perseus  cut  off  Medusa's  head,  the  blood  sink- 
ing into  the  earth  produced  the  winged  horse  Pegasus. 
Minerva  caught  him  and  tamed  him  and  presented  him 
to  the  Muses.  The  fountain  Hippocrene,  on  the  Muses' 
mountain  Helicon,  was  opened  by  a  kick  from  his  hoof. 

The  Chimaera  was  a  fearful  monster,  breathing  fire. 
The  fore  part  of  its  body  was  a  compound  of  the  lion 
and  the  goat,  and  the  hind  part  a  dragon's.  It  made 
great  havoc  in  Lycia,  so  that  the  king,  lobates,  sought 
for  some  hero  to  destroy  it.  At  that  time  there  arrived 
at  his  court  a  gallant  young  warrior,  whose  name  was. 


PEGASUS  AND  THE  CHIMERA          125 

Bellerophon.  He  brought  letters  from  Prcetus,  the  son- 
in-law  of  lobates,  recommending  Bellerophon  in  the 
warmest  terms  as  an  unconquerable  hero,  but  added  at 
the  close  a  request  to  his  father-in-law  to  put  him  to 
death.  The  rea^jon  was  that  Prcetus  was  jealous  of  himf 
suspecting  that  his  wife  Antea  looked  with  top  much  ad- 
miration on  the  young  warrior.  From  this  instance  of 
Bellerophon  being  unconsciously  the  bearer  of  his  own 
death  warrant,  the  expression  "Bellerophontic  letters" 
arose,  to  describe  any  species  of  communication  which  a 
person  is  made  the  bearer  of,  containing  matter  preju- 
dicial to  himself. 

lobates,  on  perusing  the  letters,  was  puzzled  what  to 
do,  not  willing  to  violate  the  claims  of  hospitality,  yet 
wishing  to  oblige  his  son-in-law.  A  lucky  thought  oc- 
curred to  him,  to  send  Bellerophon  to  combat  with  the 
Chimaera.  Bellerophon  accepted  the  proposal,  but  be- 
fore proceeding  to  the  combat  consulted  the  soothsayer 
Polyidus,  who  advised  him  to  procure  if  possible  the 
horse  Pegasus  for  the  conflict.  For  this  purpose  he 
directed  him  to  pass  the  night  in  the  temple  of  Minerva. 
He  did  so,  and  as  he  slept  Minerva  came  to  him  and  gave 
him  a  golden  bridle.  When  he  awoke  the  bridle  re- 
mained in  his  hand.  Minerva  also  showed  him  Pegasus 
drinking  at  the  well  of  Pirene,  and  at  sight  of  the  bridle 
the  winged  steed  came  willingly  and  suffered  himself  to 
be  taken.  Bellerophon  mounted  him,  rose  with  him  into 
the  air,  soon  found  the  Chimaera,  and  gained  an  easy 
victory  over  the  monster. 

After  the  coixjuest  of  the  Chimaera  Bellerophon  was 
exposed  to  further  trials  and  labors  by  his  unfriendly 
host,  but  by  the  aid  of  Pegasus  he  triumphed  in  them 
all,  till  at  length  lobates,  seeing  that  the  hero  was  a 
special  favorite  of  the  gods,  gave  him  his  daughter  in 
marriage  and  made  him  his  successor  on  the  throne.  At 
last  Bellerophon  by  his  pride  and  presumption  drew 
upon  himself  the  anger  of  the  gods;  it  is  said  he  even 
attempted  to  fly  up  into  heaven  on  his  winged  steed,  but 
Jupiter  sent  a  gadfly  which  stung  Pegasus  and  made 
him  throw  his  rider,  who  became  lame  and  blind  in  con- 
sequence. After  this  Bellerophon  wandered  lonely 


126       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

through  the  Aleian  field,  avoiding  the  paths  of  men,  and 
died  miserably. 

Milton  alludes  to  Bellerophon  in  the  beginning  of  the 
seventh  book  of  "Paradise  Lost": 

"Descend  from  Heaven,  Urania,  by  that  name 
If  rightly  thou  art  called,  whose  voice  divine 
Following  above  the  Olympian  hill  I  soar, 
Above  the  flight  of  Pegasean  wing. 
Upled  by  thee, 

Into  the  Heaven  of  Heavens  I  have  presumed, 
An  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  empyreal  air 
(Thy  tempering)  ;  with  like  safety  guided  down 
Return  me  to  my  native  element; 
Lest  from  this  flying  steed  unreined  (as  once 
Bellerophon,  though  from  a  lower  sphere), 
Dismounted  on  the  Aleian  field  I  fall, 
Erroneous  there  to  wander  and  forlorn." 

Young,  in  his  "Night  Thoughts,"  speaking  of  the 
sceptic,  says: 

"He  whose  blind  thought  futurity  denies, 
Unconscious  bears,  Bellerophon,  like  thee 
His  own  indictment;  he  condemns  himself. 
Who  reads  his  bosom  reads  immortal  life, 
Or  nature  there,  imposing  on  her  sons, 
Has  written  fables;  man  was  made  a  lie." 

Vol.  II.,  p.  12. 

Pegasus,  being  the  horse  of  the  Muses,  has  always 
been  at  the  service  of  the  poets.  Schiller  tells  a  pretty 
story  of  his  having  been  sold  by  a  needy  poet  and  put  to 
the  cart  and  the  plough.  He  was  not  fit  for  such  service, 
and  his  clownish  master  could  make  nothing  of  him. 
But  a  youth  stepped  forth  and  asked  leave  to  try  him. 
As  soon  as  he  was  seated  on  his  back  the  horse,  which 
had  appeared  at  first  vicious,  and  afterwards  spirit- 
broken,  rose  kingly,  a  spirit,  a  god,  unfolded  the  splen- 
dor of  his  wings,  and  soared  towards  heaven.  Our  own 
poet  Longfellow  also  records  an  adventure  of  this  fa- 
mous steed  in  his  "Pegasus  in  Pound." 

Shakspeare  alludes  to  Pegasus  in  "Henry  IV.,"  where 
Vernon  describes  Prince  Henry: 


THE  CENTAURS  127 

"I  saw  young  Harry,  with  his  beaver  on, 
His  cuishes  on  his  thighs,  gallantly  armed, 
Rise  from  the  ground  like  feathered  Mercury, 
And  vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat, 
As  if  an  angel  dropped  down  from  the  clouds, 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 
And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship." 


THE  CENTAURS 

These  monsters  were  represented  as  men  from  the 
head  to  the  loins,  while  the  remainder  of  the  body  was 
that  of  a  horse.  The  ancients  were  too  fond  of  a  horse 
to  consider  the  union  of  his  nature  with  man's  as  form- 
ing a  very  degraded  compound,  and  accordingly  the 
Centaur  is  the  only  one  of  the  fancied  monsters  of  an- 
tiquity to  which  any  good  traits  are  assigned.  The  Cen- 
taurs were  admitted  to  the  companionship  of  man,  and 
at  the  marriage  of  Pirithous  with  Hippodamia  they  were 
among  the  guests.  At  the  feast  Eurytion,  one  of  the 
Centaurs,  becoming  intoxicated  with  the  wine,  attempted 
to  offer  violence  to  the  bride;  the  other  Centaurs  fol- 
lowed his  example,  and  a  dreadful  conflict  arose  in  which 
several  of  them  were  slain.  This  is  the  celebrated  battle 
of  the  Lapithae  and  Centaurs,  a  favorite  subject  with 
the  sculptors  and  poets  of  antiquity. 

But  not  all  the  Centaurs  were  like  the  rude  guests  of 
Pirithous.  Chiron  was  instructed  by  Apollo  and  Diana, 
and  was  renowned  for  his  skill  in  hunting,  medicine, 
music,  and  the  art  of  prophecy.  The  most  distinguished 
heroes  of  Grecian  story  were  his  pupils.  Among  the 
rest  the  infant  -^Esculapius  was  intrusted  to  his  charge 
by  Apollo,  his  father.  When  the  sage  returned  to  his 
home  bearing  the  infant,  his  daughter  Ocyroe  came 
forth  to  meet  him,  and  at  sight  of  the  child  burst  forth 
into  a  prophetic  strain  (for  she  was  a  prophetess),  fore- 
telling the  glory  that  he  was  to  achieve,  ^sculapius 
when  grown  up  became  a  renowned  physician,  and  even 
in  one  instance  succeeded  in  restoring  the  dead  to  life. 
Pluto  resented  this,  and  Jupiter,  at  his  request,  struck 
the  bold  physician  with  lightning,  and  killed  him,  but 
after  his  death  received  him  into  the  number  of  the  gods. 


128        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Chiron  was  the  wisest  and  justest  of  all  the  Centaurs, 
and  at  his  death  Jupiter  placed  him  among  the  stars  as 
the  constellation  Sagittarius. 


THE  PYGMIES 

The  Pygmies  were  a  nation  of  dwarfs,  so  called  from 
a  Greek  word  which  means  the  cubit  or  measure  of 
about  thirteen  inches,  which  was  said  to  be  the  height  of 
these  people.  They  lived  near  the  sources  of  the  Nile, 
or  according  to  others,  in  India.  Homer  tells  us  that 
the  cranes  used  to  migrate  every  winter  to  the  Pygmies' 
country,  and  their  appearance  was  the  signal  of  bloody 
warfare  to  the  puny  inhabitants,  who  had  to  take  up 
arms  to  defend  their  cornfields  against  the  rapacious 
strangers.  The  Pygmies  and  their  enemies  the  Cranes 
form  the  subject  of  several  works  of  art. 

Later  writers  tell  of  an  army  of  Pygmies  which  find- 
ing Hercules  asleep  made  preparations  to  attack  him,  as 
if  they  were  about  to  attack  a  city.  But  the  hero, 
awaking,  laughed  at  the  little  warriors,  wrapped  some 
of  them  up  in  his  lion's  skin,  and  carried  them  to 
Eurystheus. 

Milton  uses  the  Pygmies  for  a  simile,  "Paradise 
Lost,"  Book  I.  : 

".    .    .    like  that  Pygmaean  race 
Beyond  the  Indian  mount,  or  fairy  elves 
Whose  midnight  revels  by  a  forest  side, 
Or  fountain,  some  belated  peasant  sees 
(Or  dreams  he  sees),  while  overhead  the  moon 
Sits  arbitress,  and  nearer  to  the  earth 
Wheels  her  pale  course ;  they  on  their  mirth  and  dance 
Intent,  with  jocund  music  charm  his  ear. 
At  once  with  joy  and  fear  his  heart  rebounds." 


THE  GRIFFIN,  OR  GRYPHON 

The  Griffin  is  a  monster  with  the  body  of  a  lion,  the 
head  and  wings  of  an  eagle,  and  back  covered  with 
feathers.  Like  birds  it  builds  its  nest,  and  instead  of  an 
egg  lays  an  agate  therein.  It  has  long  claws  and  talons 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE  129 

of  such  a  size  that  the  people  of  that  country  make 
them  into  drinking-cups.  India  was  assigned  as  the  na- 
tive country  of  the  Griffins.  They  found  gold  in  the 
mountains  and  built  their  nests  of  it,  for  which  reason 
their  nests  were  very  tempting  to  the  hunters,  and  they 
were  forced  to  keep  vigilant  guard  over  them.  Their  in- 
stinct led  them  to  know  where  buried  treasures  lay,  and 
they  did  their  best  to  keep  plunderers  at  a  distance.  The 
Arimaspians,  among  whom,  the  Griffins  flourished,  were 
a  one-eyed  people  of  Scythia. 

Milton  borrows  a  simile  from  the  Griffins,  "Paradise 
Lost/'  Book  II. : 

"As  when  a  Gryphon  through  the  wilderness, 
With  winged  course,  o'er  hill  and  moory  dale, 
Pursues  the  Arimaspian  who  by  stealth 
Hath  from  his  wakeful  custody  purloined 
His  guarded  gold,"  etc. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   GOLDEN    FLEECE MEDEA 

THE   GOLDEN   FLEECE 

IN  very  ancient  times  there  lived  in  Thessaly  a  king 
and  queen  named  Athamas  and  Nephele.  They  had  two 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  After  a  time  Athamas  grew 
indifferent  to  his  wife,  put  her  away,  and  took  another. 
Nephele  suspected  danger  to  her  children  from  the  in- 
fluence of  the  step-mother,  and  took  measures  to  send 
them  out  of  her  reach.  Mercury  assisted  her,  and  gave 
her  a  ram  with  a  golden  fleece,  on  which  she  set  the  two 
children,  trusting  that  the  ram  would  convey  them  to  a 
place  of  safety.  The  ram  vaulted  into  the  air  with  the 
children  on  his  back,  taking  his  course  to  the  East,  till 
when  crossing  the  strait  that  divides  Europe  and  Asia, 
the  girl,  whose  name  was  Helle,  fell  from  his  back  into 
the  sea,  which  from  her  was  called  the  Hellespont, — 
now  the  Dardanelles.  The  ram  continued  his  career  till 


130        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

he  reached  the  kingdom  of  Colchis,  on  the  eastern  shore 
of  the  Black  Sea,  where  he  safely  landed  the  boy 
Phryxus,  who  was  hospitably  received  by  Metes,  king 
of  the  country.  Phryxus  sacrificed  the  ram  to  Jupiter, 
and  gave  the  Golden  Fleece  to  ^Eetes,  who  placed  it  in 
a  consecrated  grove,  under  the  care  of  a  sleepless 
dragon. 

There  was  another  kingdom  in  Thessaly  near  to  that 
of  Athamas,  and  ruled  over  by  a  relative  of  his.  The 
king  .#Lson,  being  tired  of  the  cares  of  government,  sur- 
rendered his  crown  to  his  brother  Pelias  on  condition 
that  he  should  hold  it  only  during  the  minority  of  Jason, 
the  son  of  <#Cson.  When  Jason  was  grown  up  and  came 
to  demand  the  crown  from  his  uncle,  Pelias  pretended 
to  be  willing  to  yield  it,  but  at  the  same  time  suggested 
to  the  young  man  the  glorious  adventure  of  going  in 
quest  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  which  it  was  well  known  was 
in  the  kingdom  of  Colchis,  and  was,  as  Pelias  pretended, 
the  rightful  property  of  their  family.  Jason  was  pleased 
with  the  thought,  and  forthwith  made  preparations  for 
the  expedition.  At  that  time  the  only  species  of  naviga- 
tion known  to  the  Greeks  consisted  of  small  boats  or 
canoes  hollowed  out  from  trunks  of  trees,  so  that  when 
Jason  employed  Argus  to  build  him  a  vessel  capable  of 
containing  fifty  men,  it  was  considered  a  gigantic  under- 
taking. It  was  accomplished,  however,  and  the  vessel 
named  "Argo,"  from  the  name  of  the  builder.  Jason 
sent  his  invitation  to  all  the  adventurous  young  men  of 
Greece,  and  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a  band  of 
bold  youths,  many  of  whom  afterwards  were  renowned 
among  the  heroes  and  demigods  of  Greece.  Hercules, 
Theseus,  Orpheus,  and  Nestor  were  among  them.  They 
are  called  the  Argonauts,  from  the  name  of  their  vessel. 

The  "Argo"  with  her  crew  of  heroes  left  the  shores 
of  Thessaly  and  having  touched  at  the  Island  of  Lemnos, 
thence  crossed  to  Mysia  and  thence  to  Thrace.  Here 
they  found  the  sage  Phineus,  and  from  him  received  in- 
struction as  to  their  future  course.  It  seems  the  en- 
trance of  the  Euxine  Sea  was  impeded  by  two  small 
rocky  islands,  which  floated  on  the  surface,  and  in  their 
tossings  and  heavings  occasionally  came  together,  crush- 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE  131 

ing  and  grinding  to  atoms  any  object  that  might  be  caught 
between  them.  They  were  called  the  Symplegades,  or 
Clashing  Islands.  Phineus  instructed  the  Argonauts 
how  to  pass  this  dangerous  strait.  When  they  reached 
the  islands  they  let  go  a  dove,  which  took  her  way  be- 
tween the  rocks,  and  passed  in  safety,  only  losing  some 
feathers  of  her  tail.  Jason  and  his  men  seized  the 
favorable  moment  of  the  rebound,  plied  their  oars  with 
vigor,  and  passed  safe  through,  though  the  islands  closed 
behind  them,  and  actually  grazed  their  stern.  They  now 
rowed  along  the  shore  till  they  arrived  at  the  eastern 
end  of  the  sea,  and  landed  at  the  kingdom  of  Colchis. 

Jason  made  known  his  message  to  the  Colchian  king, 
^etes,  who  consented  to  give  up  the  golden  fleece  if 
Jason  would  yoke  to  the  plough  two  fire-breathing  bulls 
with  brazen  feet,  and  sow  the  teeth  of  the  dragon 
which  Cadmus  had  slain,  and  from  which  it  was  well 
known  that  a  crop  of  armed  men  would  spring  up, 
who  would  turn  their  weapons  against  their  producer. 
Jason  accepted  the  conditions,  and  a  time  was  set  for 
making  the  experiment.  Previously,  however,  he  found 
means  to  plead  his  cause  to  Medea,  daughter  of  the  king. 
He  promised  her  marriage,  and  as  they  stood  before  the 
altar  of  Hecate,  called  the  goddess  to  witness  his  oath. 
Medea  yielded,  and  by  her  aid,  for  she  was  a  potent 
sorceress,  he  was  furnished  with  a  charm,  by  which  he 
could  encounter  safely  the  breath  of  the  fire-breathing 
bulls  and  the  weapons  of  the  armed  men. 

At  the  time  appointed,  the  people  assembled  at  the 
grove  of  Mars,  and  the  king  assumed  his  royal  seat, 
while  the  multitude  covered  the  hill-sides.  The  brazen- 
footed  bulls  rushed  in,  breathing  fire  from  their  nostrils 
that  burned  up  the  herbage  as  they  passed.  The  sound 
was  like  the  roar  of  a  furnace,  and  the  smoke  like  that 
of  water  upon  quick-lime.  Jason  advanced  boldly  to 
meet  them.  His  friends,  the  chosen  heroes  of  Greece, 
trembled  to  behold  him.  Regardless  of  the  burning 
breath,  he  soothed  their  rage  with  his  voice,  patted  their 
necks  with  fearless  hand,  and  adroitly  slipped  over  them 
the  yoke,  and  compelled  them  to  drag  the  plough.  The 
Colchians  were  amazed;  the  Greeks  shouted  for  joy. 


132       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Jason  next  proceeded  to  sow  the  dragon's  teeth  and 
plough  them  in.  And  soon  the  crop  of  armed  men 
sprang  up,  and,  wonderful  to  relate !  no  sooner  had  they 
reached  the  surface  than  they  began  to  brandish  their 
weapons  and  rush  upon  Jason.  The  Greeks  trembled  for 
their  hero,  and  even  she  who  had  provided  him  a  way 
of  safety  and  taught  him  how  to  use  it,  Medea  herself, 
grew  pale  with  fear.  Jason  for  a  time  kept  his  assail- 
ants at  bay  with  his  sword  and  shield,  till,  finding  their 
numbers  overwhelming,  he  resorted  to  the  charm  which 
Medea  had  taught  him,  seized  a  stone  and  threw  it  in 
the  midst  of  his  foes.  They  immediately  turned  their 
arms  against  one  another,  and  soon  there  was  not  one 
of  the  dragon's  brood  left  alive.  The  Greeks  embraced 
their  hero,  and  Medea,  if  she  dared,  would  have  em- 
braced him  too. 

It  remained  to  lull  to  sleep  the  dragon  that  guarded 
the  fleece,  and  this  was  done  by  scattering  over  him  a 
few  drops  of  a  preparation  which  Medea  had  supplied. 
At  the  smell  he  relaxed  his  rage,  stood  for  a  moment 
motionless,  then  shut  those  great  round  eyes,  that  had 
never  been  known  to  shut  before,  and  turned  over  on 
his  side,  fast  asleep.  Jason  seized  the  fleece  and  with 
his  friends  and  Medea  accompanying,  hastened  to  their 
vessel  before  ^Eetes  the  king  could  arrest  their  depart- 
ure, and  made  the  best  of  their  way  back  to  Thessaly, 
where  they  arrived  safe,  and  Jason  delivered  the  fleece 
to  Pelias,  and  dedicated  the  "Argo"  to  Neptune.  What 
became  of  the  fleece  afterwards  we  do  not  know,  but 
perhaps  it  was  found  after  all,  like  many  other  golden 
prizes,  not  worth  the  trouble  it  had  cost  to  procure  it. 

This  is  one  of  those  mythological  tales,  says  a  late 
writer,  in  which  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  a  sub- 
stratum of  truth  exists,  though  overlaid  by  a  mass  of 
fiction.  It  probably  was  the  first  important  maritime 
expedition,  and  like  the  first  attempts  of  the  kind  of  all 
nations,  as  we  know  from  history,  was  probably  of  a 
half -piratical  character.  If  rich  spoils  were  the  result 
it  was  enough  to  give  rise  to  the  idea  of  the  golden 
fleece. 


THE  GOLDEN  FLEECE  133 

Another  suggestion  of  a  learned  mythologist,  Bryant, 
is  that  it  is  a  corrupt  tradition  of  the  story  of  Noah  and 
the  ark.  The  name  "Argo"  seems  to  countenance  this, 
and  the  incident  of  the  dove  is  another  confirmation. 

Pope,  in  his  "Ode  on  St.  Cecilia's  Day,"  thus  cele- 
brates the  launching  of  the  ship  "Argo,"  and  the  power 
of  the  music  of  Orpheus,  whom  he  calls  the  Thracian: 

"  So  when  the  first  bold  vessel  dared  the  seas, 

High  on  the  stern  the  Thracian  raised  his  strain, 

While  Argo  saw  her  kindred  trees 
Descend  from  Pelion  to  the  main. 

Transported  demigods  stood  round, 

And  men  grew  heroes  at  the  sound." 

In  Dyer's  poem  of  "The  Fleece"  there  is  an  account 
of  the  ship  "Argo"  and  her  crew,  which  gives  a  good 
picture  of  this  primitive  maritime  adventure: 

"From  every  region  of  ^gea's  shore 
The  brave  assembled;  those  illustrious  twins 
Castor  and  Pollux;  Orpheus,  tuneful  bard; 
Zetes  and  Calais,  as  the  wind  in  speed; 
Strong  Hercules  and  many  a  chief  renowned. 
On  deep  lolcos'  sandy  shore  they  thronged, 
Gleaming  in  armor,  ardent  of  exploits; 
And  soon,  the  laurel  cord  and  the  huge  stone 
Uplifting  to  the  deck,  unmoored  the  bark; 
Whose  keel  of  wondrous  length  the  skilful  hand 
Of  Argus  fashioned  for  the  proud  attempt; 
And  in  the  extended  keel  a  lofty  mast 
Upraised,  and  sails  full  swelling;  to  the  chiefs 
Unwonted  objects.     Now  first,  now  they  learned 
Their  bolder  steerage  over  ocean  wave, 
Led  by  the  golden  stars,  as  Chiron's  art 
Had  marked  the  sphere  celestial/'  etc. 

Hercules  left  the  expedition  at  Mysia,  for  Hylas,  a 
youth  beloved  by  him,  having  gone  for  water,  was  laid 
hold  of  and  kept  by  the  nymphs  of  the  spring,  who 
were  fascinated  by  his  beauty.  Hercules  went  in  quest 
of  the  lad,  and  while  he  was  absent  the  "Argo"  put  to 
sea  and  left  him.  Moore,  in  one  of  his  songs,  makes 
a  beautiful  allusion  to  this  incident : 


134        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

"When  Hylas  was  sent  with  his  urn  to  the  fount, 

Through  fields  full  of  light  and  with  heart  full  of  play, 
Light  rambled  the  boy  over  meadow  and  mount, 
And  neglected  his  task  for  the  flowers  in  the  way. 

"Thus  many  like  me,  who  in  youth  should  have  tasted 

The  fountain  that  runs  by  Philosophy's  shrine, 
Their  time  with  the  flowers  on  the  margin  have  wasted, 
And  left  their  light  urns  all  as  empty  as  mine." 


MEDEA    AND    yESON 

Amid  the  rejoicings  for  the  recovery  of  the  Golden 
Fleece,  Jason  felt  that  one  thing  was  wanting,  the  pres- 
ence of  ^Eson,  his  father,  who  was  prevented  by  his 
age  and  infirmities  from  taking  part  in  them.  Jason 
said  to  Medea,  "My  spouse,  would  that  your  arts, 
whose  power  I  have  seen  so  mighty  for  my  aid,  could 
do  me  one  further  service,  take  some  years  from,  my 
life  and  add  them  to  my  father's."  Medea  replied, 
"Not  at  such  a  cost  shall  it  be  done,  but  if  my  art 
avails  me,  his  life  shall  be  lengthened  without  abridg- 
ing yours."  The  next  full  moon  she  issued  forth  alone, 
while  all  creatures  slept;  not  a  breath  stirred  the  fo- 
liage, and  all  was  still.  To  the  stars  she  addressed  her 
incantations,  and  to  the  moon ;  to  Hecate,1  the  goddess 
of  the  underworld,  and  to  Tellus  the  goddess  of  the 
earth,  by  whose  power  plants  potent  for  enchantment 
are  produced.  She  invoked  the  gods  of  the  woods  and 
caverns,  of  mountains  and  valleys,  of  lakes  and  rivers, 
of  winds  and  vapors.  While  she  spoke  the  stars  shone 
brighter,  and  presently  a  chariot  descended  through  the 
air,  drawn  by  flying  serpents.  She  ascended  it,  and 
borne  aloft  made  her  way  to  distant  regions,  where  po- 
tent plants  grew  which  she  knew  how  to  select  for  her 
purpose.  Nine  nights  she  employed  in  her  search,  and 
during  that  time  came  not  within  the  doors  of  her  pal- 
ace nor  under  any  roof,  and  shunned  all  intercourse 
with  mortals. 

1  Hecate  was  a  mysterious  divinity  sometimes  identified  with  Diana  and 
sometimes  with  Proserpine.  As  Diana  represents  the  moonlight  splendor 
of  night,  so  Hecate  represents  its  darkness  and  terrors.  She  was  the 
goddess  of  sorcery  and  witchcraft,  and  was  believed  to  wander  by  night 
along  the  earth,  seen  only  by  the  dogs,  whose  barking  told  her  approach. 


MEDEA  AND  JESON  135 

She  next  erected  two  altars,  the  one  to  Hecate,  the 
other  to  Hebe,  the  goddess  of  youth,  and  sacrificed  a 
black  sheep,  pouring  libations  of  milk  and  wine.  She 
implored  Pluto  and  his  stolen  bride  that  they  would  not 
hasten  to  take  the  old  man's  life.  Then  she  directed 
that  yEson  should  be  led  forth,  and  having  thrown  him 
into  a  deep  sleep  by  a  charm,  had  him  laid  on  a  bed 
of  herbs,  like  one  dead.  Jason  and  all  others  were 
kept  away  from  the  place,  that  no  profane  eyes  might 
look  upon  her  mysteries.  Then,  with  streaming  hair, 
she  thrice  moved  round  the  altars,  dipped  flaming  twigs 
in  the  blood,  and  laid  them  thereon  to  burn.  Mean- 
while the  caldron  with  its  contents  was  got  ready.  In 
it  she  put  magic  herbs,  with  seeds  and  flowers  of  acrid 
juice,  stones  from  the  distant  east,  and  sand  from  the 
shore  of  all-surrounding  ocean;  hoar  frost,  gathered  by 
moonlight,  a  screech  owl's  head  and  wings,  and  the  en- 
trails of  a  wolf.  She  added  fragments  of  the  shells 
of  tortoises,  and  the  liver  of  stags, — animals  tenacious 
of  life, — and  the  head  and  beak  of  a  crow,  that  out- 
lives nine  generations  of  men.  These  with  many  other 
things  "without  a  name"  she  boiled  together  for  her 
purposed  work,  stirring  them  up  with  a  dry  olive 
branch;  and  behold!  the  branch  when  taken  out  in- 
stantly became  green,  and  before  long  was  covered  with 
leaves  and  a  plentiful  growth  of  young  olives;  and  as 
the  liquor  boiled  and  bubbled,  and  sometimes  ran  over, 
the  grass  wherever  the  sprinklings  fell  shot  forth  with 
a  verdure  like  that  of  spring. 

Seeing  that  all  was  ready,  Medea  cut  the  throat  of 
the  old  man  and  let  out  all  his  blood,  and  poured  into 
his  mouth  and  into  his  wound  the  juices  of  her  caldron. 
As  soon  as  he  had  completely  imbibed  them,  his  hair 
and  beard  laid  by  their  whiteness  and  assumed  the  black- 
ness of  youth ;  his  paleness  and  emaciation  were  gone ; 
his  veins  were  full  of  blood,  his  limbs  of  vigor  and 
robustness.  /Eson  is  amazed  at  himself,  and  remembers 
that  such  as  he  now  is,  he  was  in  his  youthful  days, 
forty  years  before. 

Medea  used  her  arts  here  for  a  good  purpose,  but 
not  so  in  another  instance,  where  she  made  them  the 


136        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

instruments  of  revenge.  Pelias,  our  readers  will  recol- 
lect, was  the  usurping  uncle  of  Jason,  and  had  kept  him 
out  of  his  kingdom.  Yet  he  must  have  had  some  good 
qualities,  for  his  daughters  loved  him,  and  when  they 
saw  what  Medea  had  done  for  JEson,  they  wished  her 
to  do  the  same  for  their  father.  Medea  pretended  to 
consent,  and  prepared  her  caldron  as  before.  At  her 
request  an  old  sheep  was  brought  and  plunged  into  the 
caldron.  Very  soon  a  bleating  was  heard  in  the  kettle, 
and  when  the  cover  was  removed,  a  lamb  jumped  forth 
and  ran  frisking  away  into  the  meadow.  The  daughters 
of  Pelias  saw  the  experiment  with  delight,  and  appointed 
a  time  for  their  father  to  undergo  the  same  operation. 
But  Medea  prepared  her  caldron  for  him  in  a  very 
different  way.  She  put  in  only  water  and  a  few  simple 
herbs.  In  the  night  she  with  the  sisters  entered  the 
bed  chamber  of  the  old  king,  while  he  and  his  guards 
slept  soundly  under  the  influence  of  a  spell  cast  upon 
them  by  Medea.  The  daughters  stood  by  the  bedside 
with  their  weapons  drawn,  but  hesitated  to  strike,  till 
Medea  chid  their  irresolution.  Then  turning  away  their 
faces,  and  giving  random  blows,  they  smote  him  with 
their  weapons.  He,  starting  from  his  sleep,  cried  out, 
"My  daughters,  what  are  you  doing?  Will  you  kill 
your  father?"  Their  hearts  failed  them  and  their  weap- 
ons fell  from  their  hands,  but  Medea  struck  him  a  fatal 
blow,  and  prevented  his  saying  more. 

Then  they  placed  him  in  the  caldron,  and  Medea 
hastened  to  depart  in  her  serpent-drawn  chariot  before 
they  discovered  her  treachery,  or  their  vengeance  would 
have  been  terrible.  She  escaped,  however,  but  had  little 
enjoyment  of  the  fruits  of  her  crime.  Jason,  for  whom 
she  had  done  so  much,  wishing  to  marry  Creusa,  princess 
of  Corinth,  put  away  Medea.  She,  enraged  at  his  in- 
gratitude, called  on  the  gods  for  vengeance,  sent  a  pois- 
oned robe  as  a  gift  to  the  bride,  and  then  killing  her 
own  children,  and  setting  fire  to  the  palace,  mounted 
her  serpent-drawn  chariot  and  fled  to  Athens,  where 
she  married  King  .#£geus,  the  father  of  Theseus,  and 
we  shall  meet  her  again  when  we  come  to  the  adven- 
tures of  that  hero. 


MEDEA  AND  ^ESON  137 

The  incantations  of  Medea  will  remind  the  reader 
of  those  of  the  witches  in  "Macbeth."  The  following 
lines  are  those  which  seem  most  strikingly  to  recall  the 
ancient  model: 

"Round  about  the  caldron  go; 
In  the  poisoned  entrails  throw. 

Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake 

In  the  caldron  boil  and  bake; 

Eye  of  newt  and  toe  of  frog, 

Wool  of  bat  and  tongue  of  dog, 

Adder's    fork   and    blind-worm's    sting, 

Lizard's  leg  and  howlet's  wing: 

Maw  of  ravening  salt-sea  shark, 

Root  of  hemlock  digged  in  the  dark,"  etc. 

—Macbeth,  Act  IV.,  Scene  1 

And  again: 

Macbeth. — What  is't  you  do? 
Witches. — A  deed  without  a  name. 

There  is  another  story  of  Medea  almost  too  revolting 
for  record  even  of  a  sorceress,  a  class  of  persons  to 
whom  both  ancient  and  modern  poets  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  attribute  every  degree  of  atrocity.  In  her 
flight  from  Colchis  she  had  taken  her  young  brother 
Absyrtus  with  her.  Finding  the  pursuing  vessels  of 
^Eetes  gaining  upon  the  Argonauts,  she  caused  the  lad 
to  be  killed  and  his  limbs  to  be  strewn  over  the  sea. 
^Eetes  on  reaching  the  place  found  these  sorrowful 
traces  of  his  murdered  son;  but  while  he  tarried  to 
collect  the  scattered  fragments  and  bestow  upon  them 
an  honorable  interment,  the  Argonauts  escaped. 

In  the  poems  of  Campbell  will  be  found  a  transla- 
tion of  one  of  the  choruses  of  the  tragedy  of  "Medea," 
where  the  poet  Euripides  has  taken  advantage  of  the 
occasion  to  pay  a  glowing  tribute  to  Athens,  his  native 
city.  It  begins  thus: 

"O  haggard  queen!  to  Athens  dost  thou  guide 

Thy  glowing  chariot,  steeped  in  kindred  gore ; 
Or  seek  to  hide  thy  damned  parricide 
Where  peace  and  justice  dwell  for  evermore?" 


iJ8        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER   XVIII 

MELEAGER    AND    ATALANTA 

ONE  of  the  heroes  of  the  Argonautic  expedition  was 
Meleager,  son  of  (Eneus  and  Althea,  king  and  queen 
of  Calydon.  Althea,  when  her  son  was  born,  beheld 
the  three  destinies,  who,  as  they  spun  their  fatal  thread, 
foretold  that  the  life  of  the  child  should  last  no  longer 
than  a  brand  then  burning  upon  the  hearth.  Althea 
seized  and  quenched  the  brand,  and  carefully  preserved 
it  for  years,  while  Meleager  grew  to  boyhood,  youth,  and 
manhood.  It  chanced,  then,  that  CEneus,  as  he  offered 
sacrifices  to  the  gods,  omitted  to  pay  due  honors  to 
Diana ;  and  she,  indignant  at  the  neglect,  sent  a  wild 
boar  of  enormous  size  to  lay  waste  the  fields  of  Caly- 
don. Its  eyes  shone  with  blood  and  fire,  its  bristles  stood 
like  threatening  spears,  its  tusks  were  like  those  of  In- 
dian elephants.  The  growing  corn  was  trampled,  the 
vines  and  olive  trees  laid  waste,  the  flocks  and  herds 
were  driven  in  wild  confusion  by  the  slaughtering  foe. 
All  common  aid  seemed  vain;  but  Meleager  called  on 
the  heroes  of  Greece  to  join  in  a  bold  hunt  for  the 
ravenous  monster.  Theseus  and  his  friend  Pirithous, 
Jason,  Peleus,  afterwards  the  father  of  Achilles,  Tela- 
mon  the  father  of  Ajax,  Nestor,  then  a  youth,  but  who 
in  his  age  bore  arms  with  Achilles  and  Ajax  in  the 
Trojan  war, — these  and  many  more  joined  in  the  enter- 
prise. With  them  came  Atalanta,  the  daughter  of  lasius, 
king  of  Arcadia.  A  buckle  of  polished  gold  confined  her 
vest,  an  ivory  quiver  hung  on  her  left  shoulder,  and  her 
left  hand  bore  the  bow.  Her  face  blent  feminine  beauty 
with  the  best  graces  of  martial  youth.  Meleager  saw 
and  loved. 

But  now  already  they  were  near  the  monster's  lair. 
They  stretched  strong  nets  from  tree  to  tree;  they  un- 
coupled their  dogs,  they  tried  to  find  the  footprints  of 
their  quarry  in  the  grass.  From  the  wood  was  a  de- 
scent to  marshy  ground.  Here  the  boar,  as  he  lay 


MELEAGER  AND  ATALANTA  139 

among  the  reeds,  heard  the  shouts  of  his  pursuers,  and 
rushed  forth  against  them.  One  and  another  is  thrown 
down  and  slain.  Jason  throws  his  spear,  with  a  prayer 
to  Diana  for  success ;  and  the  favoring  goddess  allows 
the  weapon  to  touch,  but  not  to  wound,  removing  the 
steel  point  of  the  spear  in  its  flight.  Nestor,  assailed, 
seeks  and  finds  safety  in  the  branches  of  a  tree.  Tela- 
mon  rushes  on,  but  stumbling  at  a  projecting  root,  falls 
prone.  But  an  arrow  from  Atalanta  at  length  for  the 
first  time  tastes  the  monster's  blood.  It  is  a  slight  wound, 
but  Meleager  sees  and  joyfully  proclaims  it.  Anceus, 
excited  to  envy  by  the  praise  given  to  a  female,  loudly 
proclaims  his  own  valor,  and  defies  alike  the  boar  and 
the  goddess  who  had  sent  it;  but  as  he  rushes  on,  the 
infuriated  beast  lays  him  low  with  a  mortal  wound. 
Theseus  throws  his  lance,  but  it  is  turned  aside  by  a 
projecting  bough.  The  dart  of  Jason  misses  its  object, 
and  kills  instead  one  of  their  own  dogs.  But  Meleager, 
after  one  unsuccessful  stroke,  drives  his  spear  into  the 
monster's  side,  then  rushes  on  and  despatches  him  with 
repeated  blows. 

Then  rose  a  shout  from  those  around ;  they  congratu- 
lated the  conqueror,  crowding  to  touch  his  hand.  He, 
placing  his  foot  upon  the  head  of  the  slain  boar,  turned 
to  Atalanta  and  bestowed  on  her  the  head  and  the  rough 
hide  which  were  the  trophies  of  his  success.  But  at 
this,  envy  excited  the  rest  to  strife.  Plexippus  and 
Toxeus,  the  brothers  of  Meleager's  mother,  beyond  the 
rest  opposed  the  gift,  and  snatched  from  the  maiden 
the  trophy  she  had  received.  Meleager,  kindling  with 
rage  at  the  wrong  done  to  himself,  and  still  more  at 
the  insult  offered  to  her  whom  he  loved,  forgot  the 
claims  of  kindred,  and  plunged  his  sword  into  the  of- 
fenders' hearts. 

As  Althea  bore  gifts  of  thankfulness  to  the  temples 
for  the  victory  of  her  son,  the  bodies  of  her  murdered 
brothers  met  her  sight.  She  shrieks,  and  beats  her 
breast,  and  hastens  to  change  the  garments  of  rejoicing 
for  those  of  mourning.  But  when  the  author  of  the 
deed  is  known,  grief  gives  way  to  the  stern  desire  of 
vengeance  on  her  son.  The  fatal  brand,  which  once 


140        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

she  rescued  from  the  flames,  the  brand  which  the  des- 
tinies had  linked  with  Meleager's  life,  she  brings  forth, 
and  commands  a  fire  to  be  prepared.  Then  four  times 
she  essays  to  place  the  brand  upon  the  pile ;  four  times 
draws  back,  shuddering  at  the  thought  of  bringing  de- 
struction on  her  son.  The  feelings  of  the  mother  and 
the  sister  contend  within  her.  Now  she  is  pale  at  the 
thought  of  the  proposed  deed,  now  flushed  again  with 
anger  at  the  act  of  her  son.  As  a  vessel,  driven  in  one 
direction  by  the  wind,  and  in  the  opposite  by  the  tide, 
the  mind  of  Althea  hangs  suspended  in  uncertainty.  But 
now  the  sister  prevails  above  the  mother,  and  she  begins 
as  she  holds  the  fatal  wood:  'Turn,  ye  Furies,  god- 
desses of  punishment!  turn  to  behold  the  sacrifice  I 
bring!  Crime  must  atone  for  crime.  Shall  QEneus  re- 
joice in  his  victor  son,  while  the  house  of  Thestius  is 
desolate?  But,  alas!  to  what  deed  am  I  borne  along? 
Brothers  forgive  a  mother's  weakness!  my  hand  fails 
me.  He  deserves  death,  but  not  that  I  should  destroy 
him.  But  shall  he  then  live,  and  triumph,  and  reign 
over  Calydon,  while  you,  my  brothers,  wander  unavenged 
among  the  shades  ?  No  !  thou  hast  lived  by  my  gift ;  die, 
now,  for  thine  own  crime.  .Return  the  life  which  twice 
I  gave  thee,  first  at  thy  birth,  again  when  I  snatched 
this  brand  from  the  flames.  O  that  thou  hadst  then  died ! 
Alas!  evil  is  the  conquest;  but,  brothers,  ye  have  con- 
quered." And,  turning  away  her  face,  she  threw  the 
fatal  wood  upon  the  burning  pile. 

It  gave,  or  seemed  to  give,  a  deadly  groan.  Meleager, 
absent  and  unknowing  of  the  cause,  felt  a  sudden  pang. 
He  burns,  and  only  by  courageous  pride  conquers  the 
pain  which  destroys  him.  He  mourns  only  that  he  per- 
ishes by  a  bloodless  and  unhonored  death.  With  his 
last  breath  he  calls  upon  his  aged  father,  his  brother, 
and  his  fond  sisters,  upon  his  beloved  Atalanta,  and 
upon  his  mother,  the  unknown  cause  of  his  fate.  The 
flames  increase,  and  with  them  the  pain  of  the  hero. 
Now  both  subside;  now  both  are  quenched.  The  brand 
is  ashes,  and  the  life  of  Meleager  is  breathed  forth  to 
the  wandering  winds. 

Althea,  when  the  deed  was  done,  laid  violent  hands 


ATALANTA  141 

upon  herself.  The  sisters  of  Meleager  mourned  their 
brother  with  uncontrollable  grief ;  till  Diana,  pitying  the 
sorrows  of  the  house  that  once  had  aroused  her  anger, 
turned  them  into  birds. 

ATALANTA 

The  innocent  cause  of  so  much  sorrow  was  a  maiden 
whose  face  you  might  truly  say  was  boyish  for  a  girl, 
yet  too  girlish  for  a  boy.  Her  fortune  had  been  told, 
and  it  was  to  this  effect :  "Atalanta,  do  not  marry ;  mar- 
riage will  be  your  ruin."  Terrified  by  this  oracle,  she 
fled  the  society  of  men,  and  devoted  herself  to  the  sports 
of  the  chase.  To  all  suitors  (for  she  had  many)  she 
imposed  a  condition  which  was  generally  effectual  in 
relieving  her  of  their  persecutions, — "I  will  be  the  prize 
of  him  who  shall  conquer  me  in  the  race ;  but  death  must 
be  the  penalty  of  all  who  try  and  fail."  In  spite  of  this 
hard  condition  some  would  try.  Hippomenes  was  to  be 
judge  of  the  race.  "Can  it  be  possible  that  any  will  be 
so  rash  as  to  risk  so  much  for  a  wife?"  said  he.  But 
when  he  saw  her  lay  aside  her  robe  for  the  race,  he 
changed  his  mind,  and  said,  "Pardon  me,  youths,  I  knew 
not  the  prize  you  were  competing  for."  As  he  surveyed 
them  he  wished  them  all  to  be  beaten,  and  swelled  with 
envy  of  any  one  that  seemed  at  all  likely  to  win.  While 
such  were  his  thoughts,  the  virgin  darted  forward.  As 
she  ran  she  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The 
breezes  seemed  to  give  wings  to  her  feet;  her  hair  flevc 
over  her  shoulders,  and  the  gay  fringe  of  her  garment 
fluttered  behind  her.  A  ruddy  hue  tinged  the  whiteness 
of  her  skin,  such  as  a  crimson  curtain  casts  on  a  marble 
wall.  All  her  competitors  were  distanced,  and  were  put 
to  death  without  mercy.  Hippomenes,  not  daunted  by 
this  result,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  virgin,  said,  "Why 
boast  of  beating  those  laggards?  I  offer  myself  for  the 
contest."  Atalanta  looked  at  him  with  a  pitying  coun- 
tenance, and  hardly  knew  whether  she  would  rather  con- 
quer him  or  not.  "What  god  can  tempt  one  so  young 
and  handsome  to  throw  himself  away?  I  pity  him,  not 
for  his  beauty  (yet  he  is  beautiful),  but  for  his  youth. 


142        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

I  wish  he  would  give  up  the  race,  or  if  he  will  be  so 
mad,  I  hope  he  may  outrun  me."  While  she  hesitates, 
revolving  these  thoughts,  the  spectators  grow  impatient 
for  the  race,  and  her  father  prompts  her  to  prepare. 
Then  Hippomenes  addressed  a  prayer  to  Venus:  "Help 
me,  Venus,  for  you  have  led  me  on."  Venus  heard  and 
was  propitious. 

In  the  garden  of  her  temple,  in  her  own  island  of 
Cyprus,  is  a  tree  with  yellow  leaves  and  yellow  branches 
and  golden  fruit.  Hence  she  gathered  three  golden  ap- 
ples, and,  unseen  by  any  one  else,  gave  them  to  Hippo- 
menes, and  told  him  how  to  use  them.  The  signal  is 
given;  each  starts  from  the  goal  and  skims  over  the 
sand.  So  light  their  tread,  you  would  almost  have 
thought  they  might  run  over  the  river  surface  or  over 
the  waving  grain  without  sinking.  The  cries  of  the 
spectators  cheered  Hippomenes, — "Now,  now,  do  your 
best !  haste,  haste !  you  gain  on  her !  relax  not !  one  more 
effort !"  It  was  doubtful  whether  the  youth  or  the  maiden 
heard  these  cries  with  the  greater  pleasure.  But  his 
breath  began  to  fail  him,  his  throat  was  dry,  the  goal 
yet  far  off.  At  that  moment  he  threw  down  one  of  the 
golden  apples.  The  virgin  was  all  amazement.  She 
stopped  to  pick  it  up.  Hippomenes  shot  ahead.  Shouts 
burst  forth  from  all  sides.  She  redoubled  her  efforts, 
and  soon  overtook  him.  Again  he  threw  an  apple.  She 
stopped  again,  but  again  came  up  with  him.  The  goal 
was  near;  one  chance  only  remained.  "Now,  goddess," 
said  he,  "prosper  your  gift!"  and  threw  the  last  apple 
off  at  one  side.  She  looked  at  it,  and  hesitated;  Venus 
impelled  her  to  turn  aside  for  it.  She  did  so,  and  was 
vanquished.  The  youth  carried  off  his  prize. 

But  the  lovers  were  so  full  of  their  own  happiness 
that  they  forgot  to  pay  due  honor  to  Venus;  and  the 
goddess  was  provoked  at  their  ingratitude.  She  caused 
them  to  give  offence  to  Cybele.  That  powerful  goddess 
was  not  to  be  insulted  with  impunity.  She  took  from 
them  their  human  form  and  turned  them  into  animals 
of  characters  resembling  their  own:  of  the  huntress- 
heroine,  triumphing  in  the  blood  of  her  lovers,  she  made 
a  lioness,  and  of  her  lord  and  master  a  lion,  and  yoked 


HERCULES  143 

them  to  her  car,  where  they  are  still  to  be  seen  in  all 
representations,  in  statuary  or  painting,  of  the  goddess 
Cybele. 

Cybele  is  the  Latin  name  of  the  goddess  called  by 
the  Greeks  Rhea  and  Ops.  She  was  the  wife  of  Cronos 
and  mother  of  Zeus.  In  works  of  art  she  exhibits  the 
matronly  air  which  distinguishes  Juno  and  Ceres.  Some- 
times she  is  veiled,  and  seated  on  a  throne  with  lions  at 
her  side,  at  other  times  riding  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
lions.  She  wears  a  mural  crown,  that  is,  a  crown  whose 
rim  is  carved  in  the  form  of  towers  and  battlements. 
Her  priests  were  called  Corybantes. 

Byron,  in  describing  the  city  of  Venice,  which  is  built 
on  a  low  island  in  the  Adriatic  Sea,  borrows  an  illus- 
tration from  Cybele: 

"She  looks  a  sea-Cybele  fresh  from  ocean, 
Rising  with  her  tiara  of  proud  towers 
At  airy  distance,  with  majestic  motion, 
A  ruler  of  the  waters  and  their  powers." 

—Childe  Harold,  IV. 

In  Moore's  "Rhymes  on  the  Road/'  the  poet,  speaking 
of  Alpine  scenery,  alludes  to  the  story  of  Atalanta  and 
Hippomenes  thus: 

"Even  here,  in  this  region  of  wonders,  I  find 
That  light-footed  Fancy  leaves  Truth  far  behind, 
Or  at  least,  like  Hippomenes,  turns  her  astray 
By  the  golden  illusions  he  flings  in  her  way." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

HERCULES — HEBE   AND   GANYMEDE 
HERCULES 

HERCULES  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmena.  As 
Juno  was  always  hostile  to  the  offspring  of  her  husband 
by  mortal  mothers,  she  declared  war  against  Hercules 


144       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

from  his  birth.  She  sent  two  serpents  to  destroy  him  as 
he  lay  in  his  cradle,  but  the  precocious  infant  strangled 
them  with  his  own  hands.  He  was,  however,  by  the 
arts  of  Juno  rendered  subject  to  Eurystheus  and  com- 
pelled to  perform  all  his  commands.  Eurystheus  en- 
joined upon  him  a  succession  of  desperate  adventures, 
which  are  called  the  "Twelve  Labors  of  Hercules."  The 
first  was  the  fight  with  the  Nemean  lion.  The  valley 
of  Nemea  was  infested  by  a  terrible  lion.  Eurystheus 
ordered  Hercules  to  bring  him  the  skin  of  this  monster. 
After  using  in  vain  his  club  and  arrows  against  the  lion, 
Hercules  strangled  the  animal  with  his  hands.  He  re- 
turned carrying  the  dead  lion  on  his  shoulders;  but 
Eurystheus  was  so  frightened  at  the  sight  of  it  and  at 
this  proof  of  the  prodigious  strength  of  the  hero,  that 
he  ordered  him  to  deliver  the  account  of  his  exploits 
in  future  outside  the  town. 

His  next  labor  was  the  slaughter  of  the  Hydra.  This 
monster  ravaged  the  country  of  Argos,  and  dwelt  in  a 
swamp  near  the  well  of  Amymone.  This  well  had  been 
discovered  by  Amymone  when  the  country  was  suffering 
from  drought,  and  the  story  was  that  Neptune,  who  loved 
her,  had  permitted  her  to  touch  the  rock  with  his  trident, 
and  a  spring  of  three  outlets  burst  forth.  Here  the 
Hydra  took  up  his  position,  and  Hercules  was  sent  to 
destroy  him.  The  Hydra  had  nine  heads,  of  which  the 
middle  one  was  immortal.  Hercules  struck  off  its  heads 
with  his  club,  but  in  the  place  of  the  head  knocked  off, 
two  new  ones  grew  forth  each  time.  At  length  with 
the  assistance  of  his  faithful  servant  lolaus,  he  burned 
away  the  heads  of  the  Hydra,  and  buried  the  ninth  or 
immortal  one  under  a  huge  rock. 

Another  labor  was  the  cleaning  of  the  Augean  stables. 
Augeas,  king  of  Elis,  had  a  herd  of  three  thousand  oxen, 
whose  stalls  had  not  been  cleansed  for  thirty  years.  Her- 
cules brought  the  rivers  Alpheus  and  Peneus  through 
them,  and  cleansed  them  thoroughly  in  one  day. 

His  next  labor  was  of  a  more  delicate  kind.  Admeta, 
the  daughter  of  Eurystheus,  longed  to  obtain  the  girdle 
of  the  queen  of  the  Amazons,  and  Eurystheus  ordered 
Hercules  to  go  and  get  it.  The  Amazons  were  a  nation 


HERCULES  145 

of  women.  They  were  very  warlike  and  held  several 
flourishing  cities.  It  was  their  custom  to  bring  up  only 
the  female  children;  the  boys  were  either  sent  away  to 
the  neighboring  nations  or  put  to  death.  Hercules  was 
accompanied  by  a  number  of  volunteers,  and  after  vari- 
ous adventures  at  last  reached  the  country  of  the  Ama- 
zons- Hippolyta,  the  queen,  received  him  kindly,  and 
consented  to  yield  him  her  girdle,  but  Juno,  taking  the 
form  of  an  Amazon,  went  and  persuaded  the  rest  that 
the  strangers  were  carrying  off  their  queen.  They  in- 
stantly armed  and  came  in  great  numbers  down  to  the 
ship.  Hercules,  thinking  that  Hippolyta  had  acted 
treacherously,  slew  her,  and  taking  her  girdle  made  sail 
homewards. 

Another  task  enjoined  him  was  to  bring  to  Eurystheus 
the  oxen  of  Geryon,  a  monster  with  three  bodies,  who 
dwelt  in  the  island  Erytheia  (the  red),  so  called  because 
it  lay  at  the  west,  under  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 
This  description  is  thought  to  apply  to  Spain,  of  which 
Geryon  was  king.  After  traversing  various  countries, 
Hercules  reached  at  length  the  frontiers  of  Libya  and 
Europe,  where  he  raised  the  two  mountains  of  Calpe  and 
Abyla,  as  monuments  of  his  progress,  or,  according  to 
another  account,  rent  one  mountain  into  two  and  left  half 
on  each  side,  forming  the  straits  of  Gibraltar,  the  two 
mountains  being  called  the  Pillars  of  Hercules.  The 
oxen  were  guarded  by  the  giant  Eurytion  and  his  two- 
headed  dog,  but  Hercules  killed  the  giant  and  his  dog 
and  brought  away  the  oxen  in  safety  to  Eurystheus. 

The  most  difficult  labor  of  all  was  getting  the  golden 
apples  of  the  Hesperides,  for  Hercules  did  not  know 
where  to  find  them.  These  were  the  apples  which  Juno 
had  received  at  her  wedding  from  the  goddess  of  the 
Earth,  and  which  she  had  intrusted  to  the  keeping  of 
the  daughters  of  Hesperus,  assisted  by  a  watchful  dragon. 
After  various  adventures  Hercules  arrived  at  Mount 
Atlas  in  Africa.  Atlas  was  one  of  the  Titans  who  had 
warred  against  the  gods,  and  after  they  were  subdued, 
Atlas  was  condemned  to  bear  on  his  shoulders  the  weight 
of  the  heavens.  He  was  the  father  of  the  Hesperides, 
and  Hercules  thought  might,  if  any  one  could,  find  the 


146        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

apples  and  bring  them  to  him.  But  how  to  send  Atlas 
away  from  his  post,  or  bear  up  the  heavens  while  he 
was  gone?  Hercules  took  the  burden  on  his  own  shoul- 
ders, and  sent  Atlas  to  seek  the  apples.  He  returned 
with  them,  and  though  somewhat  reluctantly,  took  his 
burden  upon  his  shoulders  again,  and  let  Hercules  re- 
turn with  the  apples  to  Eurystheus. 

Milton,  in  his  "Comus,"  makes  the  Hesperides  the 
daughters  of  Hesperus  and  nieces  of  Atlas : 

".     .     .    amidst  the  gardens  fair 
Of  Hesperus  and  his  daughters  three, 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree." 

The  poets,  led  by  the  analogy  of  the  lovely  appear- 
ance of  the  western  sky  at  sunset,  viewed  the  west  as 
a  region  of  brightness  and  glory.  Hence  they  placed  in 
it  the  Isles  of  the  Blest,  the  ruddy  Isle  Erythea,  on 
which  the  bright  oxen  of  Geryon  were  pastured,  and 
the  Isle  of  the  Hesperides.  The  apples  are  supposed 
by  some  to  be  the  oranges  of  Spain,  of  which  the  Greeks 
had  heard  some  obscure  accounts. 

A  celebrated  exploit  of  Hercules  was  his  victory  over 
Antaeus.  Antaeus,  the  son  of  Terra,  the  Earth,  was  a 
mighty  giant  and  wrestler,  whose  strength  was  invincible 
so  long  as  he  remained  in  contact  with  his  mother  Earth. 
He  compelled  all  strangers  who  came  to  his  country  to 
wrestle  with  him,  on  condition  that  if  conquered  (as 
they  all  were)  they  should  be  put  to  death.  Hercules 
encountered  him,  and  finding  that  it  was  of  no  avail 
to  throw  him,  for  he  always  rose  with  renewed  strength 
from  every  fall,  he  lifted  him  up  from  the  earth  and 
strangled  him  in  the  air. 

Cacus  was  a  huge  giant,  who  inhabited  a  cave  on 
Mount  Aventine,  and  plundered  the  surrounding  coun- 
try. When  Hercules  was  driving  home  the  oxen  of 
Geryon,  Cacus  stole  part  of  the  cattle,  while  the  hero 
slept.  That  their  footprints  might  not  serve  to  show 
where  they  had  been  driven,  he  dragged  them  back- 


HERCULES  147 

ward  by  their  tails  to  his  cave ;  so  their  tracks  all  seemed 
to  show  that  they  had  gone  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Hercules  was  deceived  by  this  stratagem,  and  would  have 
failed  to  find  his  oxen,  if  it  had  not  happened  that  in 
driving  the  remainder  of  the  herd  past  the  cave  where 
the  stolen  ones  were  concealed,  those  within  began  to 
low,  and  were  thus  discovered.  Cacus  was  slain  by 
Hercules. 

The  last  exploit  we  shall  record  was  bringing  Cerberus 
from  the  lower  world.  Hercules  descended  into  Hades, 
accompanied  by  Mercury  and  Minerva.  He  obtained 
permission  from  Pluto  to  carry  Cerberus  to  the  upper 
air,  provided  he  could  do  it  without  the  use  of  weapons ; 
and  in  spite  of  the  monster's  struggling,  he  seized  him, 
held  him  fast,  and  carried  him  to  Eurystheus,  and  after- 
wards brought  him  back  again.  When  he  was  in  Hades 
he  obtained  the  liberty  of  Theseus,  his  admirer  and 
imitator,  who  had  been  detained  a  prisoner  there  for  an 
unsuccessful  attempt  to  carry  off  Proserpine. 

Hercules  in  a  fit  of  madness  killed  his  friend  Iphitus, 
and  was  condemned  for  this  offence  to  become  the  slave 
of  Queen  Omphale  for  three  years.  While  in  this  service 
the  hero's  nature  seemed  changed.  He  lived  effeminately, 
wearing  at  times  the  dress  of  a  woman,  and  spinning 
wool  with  the  hand-maidens  of  Omphale,  while  the  queen 
wore  his  lion's  skin.  When  this  service  was  ended 
he  married  Dejanira  and  lived  in  peace  with  her  three 
years.  On  one  occasion  as  he  was  travelling  with  his 
wife,  they  came  to  a  river,  across  which  the  Centaur 
Nessus  carried  travellers  for  a  stated  fee.  Hercules 
himself  forded  the  river,  but  gave  Dejanira  to  Nessus 
to  be  carried  across.  Nessus  attempted  to  run  away  with 
her,  but  Hercules  heard  her  cries  and  shot  an  arrow 
into  the  heart  of  Nessus.  The  dying  Centaur  told  De- 
janira to  take  a  portion  of  his  blood  and  keep  it,  as  it 
might  be  used  as  a  charm  to  preserve  the  love  of  her 
husband. 

Dejanira  did  so  and  before  long  fancied  she  had  occa- 
sion to  use  it.  Hercules  in  one  of  his  conquests  had 
taken  prisoner  a  fair  maiden,  named  lole,  of  whom  he 
seemed  more  fond  than  Dejanira  approved.  When  Her- 


148        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

cules  was  about  to  offer  sacrifices  to  the  gods  in  honor 
of  his  victory,  he  sent  to  his  wife  for  a  white  robe  to 
use  on  the  occasion.  Dejanira,  thinking  it  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  try  her  love-spell,  steeped  the  garment  in  the 
blood  of  Nessus.  We  are  to  suppose  she  took  care 
to  wash  out  all  traces  of  it,  but  the  magic  power  re- 
mained, and  as  soon  as  the  garment  became  warm  on 
the  body  of  Hercules  the  poison  penetrated  into  all  his 
limbs  and  caused  him  the  most  intense  agony.  In  his 
frenzy  he  seized  Lichas,  who  had  brought  him  the  fatal 
robe,  and  hurled  him  into  the  sea.  He  wrenched  off  the 
garment,  but  it  stuck  to  his  flesh,  and  with  it  he  tore 
away  whole  pieces  of  his  body.  In  this  state  he  em- 
barked on  board  a  ship  and  was  conveyed  home.  Deja- 
nira, on  seeing  what  she  had  unwittingly  done,  hung 
herself.  Hercules,  prepared  to  die,  ascended  Mount  (Eta, 
where  he  built  a  funeral  pile  of  trees,  gave  his  bow  and 
arrows  to  Philoctetes,  and  laid  himself  down  on  the  pile, 
his  head  resting  on  his  club,  and  his  lion's  skin  spread 
over  him.  With  a  countenance  as  serene  as  if  he  were 
taking  his  place  at  a  festal  board  he  commanded  Philoc- 
tetes to  apply  the  torch.  The  flames  spread  apace  and 
soon  invested  the  whole  mass. 

Milton  thus  alludes  to  the  frenzy  of  Hercules: 

"As  when  Alcides,1  from  CEchalia  crowned 
With  conquest,  felt  the  envenomed  robe,  and  tore, 
Through  pain,  up  by  the  roots  Thessalian  pines 
And  Lichas  from  the  top  of  CEta  threw 
Into  the  Euboic  Sea." 

The  gods  themselves  felt  troubled  at  seeing  the  cham- 
pion of  the  earth  so  brought  to  his  end.  But  Jupiter 
with  cheerful  countenance  thus  addressed  them:  "I  am 
pleased  to  see  your  concern,  my  princes,  and  am  gratified 
to  perceive  that  I  am  the  ruler  of  a  loyal  people,  and 
that  my  son  enjoys  your  favor.  For  although  your  in- 
terest in  him  arises  from  his  noble  deeds,  yet  it  is  not 
the  less  gratifying  to  me.  But  now  I  say  to  you,  Fear 
not.  He  who  conquered  all  else  is  not  to  be  conquered 

*  Alcides,  a  name  of  Hercules. 


HERCULES  149 

by  those  flames  which  you  see  blazing  on  Mount  (Eta. 
Only  his  mother's  share  in  him  can  perish;  what  he 
derived  from  me  is  immortal.  I  shall  take  him,  dead 
to  earth,  to  the  heavenly  shores,  and  I  require  of  you 
all  to  receive  him  kindly.  If  any  of  you  feel  grieved 
at  his  attaining  this  honor,  yet  no  one  can  deny  that  he 
has  deserved  it."  The  gods  all  gave  their  assent;  Juno 
only  heard  the  closing  words  with  some  displeasure  that 
she  should  be  so  particularly  pointed  at,  yet  not  enough 
to  make  her  regret  the  determination  of  her  husband. 
So  when  the  flames  had  consumed  the  mother's  share 
of  Hercules,  the  diviner  part,  instead  of  being  injured 
thereby,  seemed  to  start  forth  with  new  vigor,  to  assume 
a  more  lofty  port  and  a  more  awful  dignity.  Jupiter 
enveloped  him  in  a  cloud,  and  took  him  up  in  a  four- 
horse  chariot  to  dwell  among  the  stars.  As  he  took  his 
place  in  heaven,  Atlas  felt  the  added  weight. 

Juno,  now  reconciled  to  him,  gave  him  her  daughter 
Hebe  in  marriage. 

The  poet  Schiller,  in  one  of  his  pieces  called  the  "Ideal 
and  Life,"  illustrates  the  contrast  between  the  practical 
and  the  imaginative  in  some  beautiful  stanzas,  of  which 
the  last  two  may  be  thus  translated : 

"Deep  degraded  to  a  coward's  slave, 
Endless  contests  bore  Alcides  brave, 
Through  the  thorny  path  of  suffering  led; 
Slew  trie  Hydra,  crushed  the  lion's  might, 
Threw  himself,  to  bring  his  friend  to  light, 
Living,  in  the  skiff  that  bears  the  dead. 
All  the  torments,  every  toil  of  earth 
Juno's  hatred  on  him  could  impose, 
Well  he  bore  them,  from  his  fated  birth 
To  life's  grandly  mournful  close. 

"Till  the  god,  the  earthly  part  forsaken, 
From  the  man  in  flames  asunder  taken, 
Drank  the  heavenly  ether's  purer  breath. 
Joyous  in  the  new  unwonted  lightness, 
Soared  he  upwards  to  celestial  brightness, 
Earth's  dark  heavy  burden  lost  in  death. 
High  Olympus  gives  harmonious  greeting 
To  the  hall  where  reigns  his  sire  adored; 
Youth's  bright  goddess,  with  a  blush  at  meeting. 
Gives  the  nectar  to  her  lord."  —^9.  G.  B. 


150       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


HEBE    AND    GANYMEDE 

Hebe,  the  daughter  of  Juno,  and  goddess  of  youth, 
was  cup-bearer  to  the  gods.  The  usual  story  is  that 
she  resigned  her  office  on  becoming  the  wife  of  Her- 
cules. But  there  is  another  statement  which  our  coun- 
tryman Crawford,  the  sculptor,  has  adopted  in  his  group 
of  Hebe  and  Ganymede,  now  in  the  Athenaeum  gallery. 
According  to  this,  Hebe  was  dismissed  from  her  office 
in  consequence  of  a  fall  which  she  met  with  one  day 
when  in  attendance  on  the  gods.  Her  successor  was 
Ganymede,  a  Trojan  boy,  whom  Jupiter,  in  the  disguise 
of  an  eagle,  seized  and  carried  off  from  the  midst  of 
his  playfellows  on  Mount  Ida,  bore  up  to  heaven,  and 
installed  in  the  vacant  place. 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Palace  of  Art,"  describes  among 
the  decorations  on  the  walls  a  picture  representing  this 
legend  : 

"There,  too,  flushed  Ganymede,  his  rosy  thigh 

Half  buried  in  the  eagle's  down, 
Sole  as  a  flying  star  shot  through  the  sky 
Above  the  pillared  town." 

And  in  Shelley's  "Prometheus"  Jupiter  calls  to  his 
cup-bearer  thus : 

"Pour  forth  heaven's  wine,  Idaean  Ganymede, 
And  let  it  fill  the  Daedal  cups  like  fire." 

The  beautiful  legend  of  the  "Choice  of  Hercules"  ma> 
be  found  in  the  "Tatler,"  No.  97. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THESEUS — D^DALUS — CASTOR  AND   POLLUX 
THESEUS 

THESEUS  was  the  son  of  ^geus,  king  of  Athens,  and 
of  -#£thra,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Trcezen.  He  was 
brought  up  at  Trcezen,  and  when  arrived  at  manhood 
was  to  proceed  to  Athens  and  present  himself  to  his 


THESEUS  151 

father.  yEgeus  on  parting  from  JEthra,  before  the  birth 
of  his  son,  placed  his  sword  and  shoes  under  a  large 
stone  and  directed  her  to  send  his  son  to  him  when  he 
became  strong  enough  to  roll  away  the  stone  and  take 
them  from  under  it.  When  she  thought  the  time  had 
come,  his  mother  led  Theseus  to  the  stone,  and  he  re- 
moved it  with  ease  and  took  the  sword  and  shoes.  As 
the  roads  were  infested  with  robbers,  his  grandfather 
pressed  him  earnestly  to  take  the  shorter  and  safer  way 
to  his  father's  country — by  sea ;  but  the  youth,  feeling 
in  himself  the  spirit  and  the  soul  of  a  hero,  and  eager 
to  signalize  himself  like  Hercules,  with  whose  fame  all 
Greece  then  rang,  by  destroying  the  evil-doers  and  mon- 
sters that  oppressed  the  country,  determined  on  the 
more  perilous  and  adventurous  journey  by  land. 

His  first  day's  journey  brought  him  to  Epidaurus, 
where  dwelt  a  man  named  Periphetes,  a  son  of  Vulcan. 
This  ferocious  savage  always  went  armed  with  a  club 
of  iron,  and  all  travellers  stood  in  terror  of  his  violence. 
When  he  saw  Theseus  approach  he  assailed  him,  but 
speedily  fell  beneath  the  blows  of  the  young  hero,  who 
took  possession  of  his  club  and  bore  it  ever  afterwards 
as  a  memorial  of  his  first  victory. 

Several  similar  contests  with  the  petty  tyrants  and 
marauders  of  the  country  followed,  in  all  of  which 
Theseus  was  victorious.  One  of  these  evil-doers  was 
called  Procrustes,  or  the  Stretcher.  He  had  an  iron 
bedstead,  on  which  he  used  to  tie  all  travellers  who 
fell  into  his  hands.  If  they  were  shorter  than  the  bed, 
he  stretched  their  limbs  to  make  them  fit  it;  if  they 
were  longer  than  the  bed,  he  lopped  off  a  portion.  The- 
seus served  him  as  he  had  served  others. 

Having  overcome  all  the  perils  of  the  road,  Theseus 
at  length  reached  Athens,  where  new  dangers  awaited 
him.  Medea,  the  sorceress,  who  had  fled  from  Corinth 
after  her  separation  from  Jason,  had  become  the  wife 
of  -fligeus,  the  father  of  Theseus.  Knowing  by  her  arts 
who  he  was,  and  fearing  the  loss  of  her  influence  with 
her  husband  if  Theseus  should  be  acknowledged  as  his 
son,  she  filled  the  mind  of  -^Egeus  with  suspicions  of 
the  young  stranger,  and  induced  him  to  present  him  & 
CUD  of  poison ;  but  &t  the  moment  when  Theseus  stepped 


152       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

forward  to  take  it,  the  sight  of  the  sword  which  he 
wore  discovered  to  his  father  who  he  was,  and  prevented 
the  fatal  draught.  Medea,  detected  in  her  arts,  fled 
once  more  from  deserved  punishment,  and  arrived  in 
Asia,  where  the  country  afterwards  called  Media  re- 
ceived its  name  from  her.  Theseus  was  acknowledged 
by  his  father,  and  declared  his  successor. 

The  Athenians  were  at  that  time  in  deep  affliction,  on 
account  of  the  tribute  which  they  were  forced  to  pay 
to  Minos,  king  of  Crete.  This  tribute  consisted  of 
seven  youths  and  seven  maidens,  who  were  sent  every 
year  to  be  devoured  by  the  Minotaur,  a  monster  with 
a  bull's  body  and  a  human  head.  It  was  exceedingly 
strong  and  fierce,  and  was  kept  in  a  labyrinth  constructed 
by  Daedalus,  so  artfully  contrived  that  whoever  was  en- 
closed in  it  could  by  no  means  find  his  way  out  unas- 
sisted. Here  the  Minotaur  roamed,  and  was  fed  with 
human  victims. 

Theseus  resolved  to  deliver  his  countrymen  from 
this  calamity,  or  to  die  in  the  attempt.  Accordingly,  when 
the  time  of  sending  off  the  tribute  came,  and  the  youths 
and  maidens  were,  according  to  custom,  drawn  by  lot  to 
be  sent,  he  offered  himself  as  one  of  the  victims,  in 
spite  of  the  entreaties  of  his  father.  The  ship  departed 
under  black  sails,  as  usual,  which  Theseus  promised  his 
father  to  change  for  white,  in  case  of  his  returning  vic- 
torious. When  they  arrived  in  Crete,  the  youths  and 
maidens  were  exhibited  before  Minos;  and  Ariadne,  the 
daughter  of  the  king,  being  present,  became  deeply  enam- 
ored of  Theseus,  by  whom  her  love  was  readily  returned. 
She  furnished  him  with  a  sword,  with  which  to  encoun- 
ter the  Minotaur,  and  with  a  clew  of  thread  by  which  he 
might  find  his  way  out  of  the  labyrinth.  He  was  suc- 
cessful, slew  the  Minotaur,  escaped  from  the  labyrinth, 
and  taking  Ariadne  as  the  companion  of  his  way,  with  his 
rescued  companions  sailed  for  Athens.  On  their  way 
they  stopped  at  the  island  of  Naxos,  where  Theseus 
abandoned  Ariadne,  leaving  her  asleep.1  His  excuse  for 

1  One  of  the  finest  pieces  of  sculpture  in  Italy,  the  recumbent  Ariadne 
of  the  Vatican,  represents  this  incident.  A  copy  is  owned  by  the 
Athenaeum,  Boston,  and  deposited  in  the  Museum  of  Fine  Arts. 


THESEUS  153 

this  ungrateful  treatment  of  his  benefactress  was  that 
Minerva  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream  and  commanded  him 
to  do  so. 

On  approaching  the  coast  of  Attica,  Theseus  forgot 
the  signal  appointed  by  his  father,  and  neglected  to  raise 
the  white  sails,  and  the  old  king,  thinking  his  son  had 
perished,  put  an  end  to  his  own  life.  Theseus  thus  became 
king  of  Athens. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  adventures  of  The- 
seus is  his  expedition  against  the  Amazons.  He  assailed 
them  before  they  had  recovered  from  the  attack  of 
Hercules,  and  carried  off  their  queen  Antiope.  The 
Amazons  in  their  turn  invaded  the  country  of  Athens  and 
penetrated  into  the  city  itself;  and  the  final  battle  in 
which  Theseus  overcame  them  was  fought  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  city.  This  battle  was  one  of  the  favorite 
subjects  of  the  ancient  sculptors,  and  is  commemorated 
in  several  works  of  art  that  are  still  extant. 

The  friendship  between  Theseus  and  Pirithous  was 
of  a  most  intimate  nature,  yet  it  originated  in  the  midst 
of  arms.  Pirithous  had  made  an  irruption  into  the  plain 
of  Marathon,  and  carried  off  the  herds  of  the  king  of 
Athens.  Theseus  went  to  repel  the  plunderers.  The 
moment  Pirithous  beheld  him,  he  was  seized  with  admi- 
ration; he  stretched  out  his  hand  as  a  token  of  peace, 
and  cried,  "Be  judge  thyself — what  satisfaction  dost  thou 
require?"  "Thy  friendship,"  replied  the  Athenian,  and 
they  swore  inviolable  fidelity.  Their  deeds  corresponded 
to  their  professions,  and  they  ever  continued  true  brothers 
in  arms.  Each  of  them  aspired  to  espouse  a  daughter 
of  Jupiter.  Theseus  fixed  his  choice  on  Helen,  then  but 
a  child,  afterwards  so  celebrated  as  the  cause  of  the 
Trojan  war,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  friend  he  carried 
her  off.  Pirithous  aspired  to  the  wife  of  the  monarch 
of  Erebus;  and  Theseus,  though  aware  of  the  danger, 
accompanied  the  ambitious  lover  in  his  descent  to  the 
under-world.  But  Pluto  seized  and  set  them  on  an  en- 
chanted rock  at  his  palace  gate,  where  they  remained 
till  Hercules  arrived  and  liberated  Theseus,  leaving  Pi- 
rithous to  his  fate. 

After  the  death  of  Antiope,  Theseus  married  Phae- 


154        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

dra,  daughter  of  Minos,  king  of  Crete.  Phaedra  saw  in 
Hippolytus,  the  son  of  Theseus,  a  youth  endowed  with 
all  the  graces  and  virtues  of  his  father,  and  of  an  age 
corresponding  to  her  own.  She  loved  him,  but  he  re- 
pulsed her  advances,  and  her  love  was  changed  to  hate. 
She  ased  her  influence  over  her  infatuated  husband  to 
cause  him  to  be  jealous  of  his  son,  and  he  imprecated  the 
vengeance  of  Neptune  upon  him.  As  Hippolytus  was  one 
day  driving  his  chariot  along  the  shore,  a  sea-monster 
raised  himself  above  the  waters,  and  frightened  the 
horses  so  that  they  ran  away  and  dashed  the  chariot  to 
pieces.  Hippolytus  was  killed,  but  by  Diana's  assistance 
^sculapius  restored  him  to  life.  Diana  removed  Hip- 
polytus from  the  power  of  his  deluded  father  and  false 
stepmother,  and  placed  him  in  Italy  under  the  protection 
of  the  nymph  Egeria. 

Theseus  at  length  lost  the  favor  of  his  people,  and 
retired  to  the  court  of  Lycomedes,  king  of  Scyros,  who 
at  first  received  him  kindly,  but  afterwards  treacherously 
slew  him.  In  a  later  age  the  Athenian  general  Cimon 
discovered  the  place  where  his  remains  were  laid,  and 
caused  them  to  be  removed  to  Athens,  where  they  were 
deposited  in  a  temple  called  the  Theseum,  erected  in 
honor  of  the  hero. 

The  queen  of  the  Amazons  whom  Theseus  espoused 
is  by  some  called  Hippolyta.  That  is  the  name  she  bears 
in  Shakspeare's  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream," — the 
subject  of  which  is  the  festivities  attending  the  nup- 
tials of  Theseus  and  Hippolyta. 

Mrs.  Hemans  has  a  poem  on  the  ancient  Greek  tra- 
dition that  the  "Shade  of  Theseus"  appeared  strength- 
ening his  countrymen  at  the  battle  of  Marathon. 

Theseus  is  a  semi-historical  personage.  It  is  record- 
ed of  him  that  he  united  the  several  tribes  by  whom 
the  territory  of  Attica  was  then  possessed  into  one 
state,  of  which  Athens  was  the  capital.  In  commemora- 
tion of  this  important  event,  he  instituted  the  festival 
of  Panathenaea,  in  honor  of  Minerva,  the  patron  deity 
of  Athens.  This  festival  differed  from  the  other  Gre- 
cian games  chiefly  in  two  particulars.  It  was  peculiar 


OLYMPIC  AND  OTHER  GAMES          155 

to  the  Athenians,  and  its  chief  feature  was  a  solemn 
procession  in  which  the  Peplus,  or  sacred  robe  of 
Minerva,  was  carried  to  the  Parthenon,  and  suspended 
before  the  statue  of  the  goddess.  The  Peplus  was  cov- 
ered with  embroidery,  worked  by  select  virgins  of  the 
noblest  families  in  Athens.  The  procession  consisted  of 
persons  of  all  ages  and  both  sexes.  The  old  men  car- 
ried olive  branches  in  their  hands,  and  the  young  men 
bore  arms.  The  young  women  carried  baskets  on  their 
heads,  containing  the  sacred  utensils,  cakes,  and  all 
things  necessary  for  the  sacrifices.  The  procession 
formed  the  subject  of  the  bas-reliefs  which  embellished 
the  outside  of  the  temple  of  the  Parthenon.  A  con- 
siderable portion  of  these  sculptures  is  now  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  among  those  known  as  the  "Elgin  marbles/* 

OLYMPIC    AND    OTHER    GAMES 

It  seems  not  inappropriate  to  mention  here  the  other 
celebrated  national  games  of  the  Greeks.  The  first  and 
most  distinguished  were  the  Olympic,  founded,  it  was 
said,  by  Jupiter  himself.  They  were  celebrated  at  Olym- 
pia  in  Elis.  Vast  numbers  of  spectators  flocked  to  them 
from  every  part  of  Greece,  and  from  Asia,  Africa,  and 
Sicily.  They  were  repeated  every  fifth  year  in  mid- 
summer, and  continued  five  days.  They  gave  rise  to 
the  custom  of  reckoning  time  and  dating  events  by 
Olympiads.  The  first  Olympiad  is  generally  consid- 
ered as  corresponding  with  the  year  776  B.C.  The 
Pythian  games  were  celebrated  in  the  vicinity  of  Delphi, 
the  Isthmian  on  the  Corinthian  isthmus,  the  Nemean  at 
Nemea,  a  city  of  Argolis. 

The  exercises  in  these  games  were  of  five  sorts:  run- 
ning, leaping,  wrestling,  throwing  the  quoit,  and  hurl- 
ing the  javelin,  or  boxing.  Besides  these  exercises  of 
bodily  strength  and  agility,  there  were  contests  in  music, 
poetry,  and  eloquence.  Thus  these  games  furnished 
poets,  musicians,  and  authors  the  best  opportunities  to 
present  their  productions  to  the  public,  and  the  fame  of 
the  victors  was  diffused  far  and  wide. 


156       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


DAEDALUS 

The  labyrinth  from  which  Theseus  escaped  by  means 
of  the  clew  of  Ariadne  was  built  by  Daedalus,  a  most 
skilful  artificer.  It  was  an  edifice  with  numberless  wind- 
ing passages-  and  turnings  opening  into  one  another,  and 
seeming  to  have  neither  beginning  nor  end,  like  the  river 
Maeander,  which  returns  on  itself,  and  flows  now  on- 
ward, now  backward,  in  its  course  to  the  sea.  Daedalus 
built  the  labyrinth  for  King  Minos,  but  afterwards  lost 
the  favor  of  the  king,  and  was  shut  up  in  a  tower.  He 
contrived  to  make  his  escape  from  his  prison,  but  could 
not  leave  the  island  by  sea,  as  the  king  kept  strict  watch 
on  all  the  vessels,  and  permitted  none  to  sail  without 
being  carefully  searched.  "Minos  may  control  the  land 
and  sea,"  said  Daedalus,  "but  not  the  regions  of  the  air. 
I  will  try  that  way."  So  he  set  to  work  to  fabricate 
wings  for  himself  and  his  young  son  Icarus.  He 
wrought  feathers  together,  beginning  with  the  smallest 
and  adding  larger,  so  as  to  form  an  increasing  surface. 
The  larger  ones  he  secured  with  thread  and  the  smaller 
with  wax,  and  gave  the  whole  a  gentle  curvature  like 
the  wings  of  a  bird.  Icarus,  the  boy,  stood  and  looked 
on,  sometimes  running  to  gather  up  the  feathers  which 
the  wind  had  blown  away,  and  then  handling  the  wax 
and  working  it  over  with  his  fingers,  by  his  play  im- 
peding his  father  in  his  labors.  When  at  last  the  work 
was  done,  the  artist,  waving  his  wings,  found  himself 
buoyed  upward,  and  hung  suspended,  poising  himself  on 
the  beaten  air.  He  next  equipped  his  son  in  the  same 
manner,  and  taught  him  how  to  fly,  as  a  bird  tempts  her 
young  ones  from  the  lofty  nest  into  the  air.  When  all 
was  prepared  for  flight  he  said,  "Icarus,  my  son,  I 
charge  you  to  keep  at  a  moderate  height,  for  if  you 
fly  too  low  the  damp  will  clog  your  wings,  and  if  too 
high  the  heat  will  melt  them.  Keep  near  me  and  you 
will  be  safe."  While  he  gave  him  these  instructions  and 
fitted  the  wings  to  his  shoulders,  the  face  of  the  father 
was  wet  with  tears,  and  his  hands  trembled.  He  kissed 
the  boy,  not  knowing  that  it  was  for  the  last  time.  Then 
rising  on  his  wings,  he  flew  off,  encouraging  him  to  fol- 


DAEDALUS  157 

low,  and  looked  back  from  his  own  flight  to  see  how 
his  son  managed  his  wings.  As  they  flew  the  plough- 
man stopped  his  work  to  gaze,  and  the  shepherd  leaned 
on  his  staff  and  witched  them,  astonished  at  the  sight, 
and  thinking  they  were  gods  who  could  thus  cleave 
the  air. 

They  passed  Samos  and  Delos  on  the  left  and  Leb- 
ynthos  on  the  right,  when  the  boy,  exulting  in  his  ca- 
reer, began  to  leave  the  guidance  of  his  companion  and 
soar  upward  as  if  to  reach  heaven.  The  nearness  of 
the  blazing  sun  softened  the  wax  which  held  the  feathers 
together,  and  they  came  off.  He  fluttered  with  his  arms, 
but  no  feathers  remained  to  hold  the  air.  While  his 
mouth  uttered  cries  to  his  father  it  was  submerged  in 
the  blue  waters  of  the  sea,  which  thenceforth  was  called 
by  his  name.  His  father  cried,  "Icarus,  Icarus,  where 
are  you?"  At  last  he  saw  the  feathers  floating  on  the 
water,  and  bitterly  lamenting  his  own  arts,  he  buried 
the  body  and  called  the  land  Icaria  in  memory  of  his 
child.  Daedalus  arrived  safe  in  Sicily,  where  he  built 
a  temple  to  Apollo,  and  hung  up  his  wings,  an  offering 
to  the  god. 

Daedalus  was  so  proud  of  his  achievements  that  he 
could  not  bear  the  idea  of  a  rival.  His  sister  had  placed 
her  son  Perdix  under  his  charge  to  be  taught  the  me- 
chanical arts.  He  was  an  apt  scholar  and  gave  strik- 
ing evidences  of  ingenuity.  Walking  on  the  seashore 
he  picked  up  the  spine  of  a  fish.  Imitating  it,  he  took 
a  piece  of  iron  and  notched  it  on  the  edge,  and  thus 
invented  the  saw.  He  put  two  pieces  of  iron  together, 
connecting  them  at  one  end  with  a  rivet,  and  sharpen- 
ing the  other  ends,  and  made  a  pair  of  compasses. 
Daedalus  was  so  envious  of  his  nephew's  performances 
that  he  took  an  opportunity,  when  they  were  together 
one  day  on  the  top  of  a  high  tower,  to  push  him  off. 
But  Minerva,  who  favors  ingenuity,  saw  him  falling, 
and  arrested  his  fate  by  changing  him  into  a  bird  called 
after  his  name,  the  Partridge.  This  bird  does  not  build 
his  nest  in  the  trees,  nor  take  lofty  flights,  but  nestles 
in  the  hedges,  and  mindful  of  his  fall,  avoids  high 
places. 


158        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  death  of  Icarus  is  told  in  the  following  lines  by 
Darwin : 

".    .    .    with  melting  wax  and  loosened  strings 
Sunk  hapless  Icarus  on  unfaithful  wings; 
Headlong  he  rushed  through  the  affrighted  air, 
With  limbs  distorted  and  dishevelled  hair; 
His  scattered  plumage  danced  upon  the  wave, 
And  sorrowing  Nereids  decked  his  watery  grave; 
O'er  his  pale  corse  their  pearly  sea-flowers  shed, 
And  strewed  with  crimson  moss  his  marble  bed; 
Struck  in  their  coral  towers  the  passing  bell, 
And  wide  in  ocean  tolled  his  echoing  knell." 


CASTOR   AND   POLLUX 

Castor  and  Pollux  were  the  offspring  of  Leda  and 
the  Swan,  under  which  disguise  Jupiter  had  concealed 
himself.  Leda  gave  birth  to  an  egg  from  which  sprang 
the  twins.  Helen,  so  famous  afterwards  as  the  cause 
of  the  Trojan  war,  was  their  sister. 

When  Theseus  and  his  friend  Pirithous  had  carried 
off  Helen  from  Sparta,  the  youthful  heroes  Castor  and 
Pollux,  with  their  followers,  hastened  to  her  rescue. 
Theseus  was  absent  from  Attica  and  the  brothers  were 
successful  in  recovering  their  sister. 

Castor  was  famous  for  taming  and  managing  horses, 
and  Pollux  for  skill  in  boxing.  They  were  united  by 
the  warmest  affection  and  inseparable  in  all  their  en- 
terprises. They  accompanied  the  Argonautic  expedition. 
During  the  voyage  a  storm  arose,  and  Orpheus  prayed 
to  the  Samothracian  gods,  and  played  on  his  harp, 
whereupon  the  storm  ceased  and  stars  appeared  on  the 
heads  of  the  brothers.  From  this  incident,  Castor  and 
Pollux  came  afterwards  to  be  considered  the  patron 
deities  of  seamen  and  voyagers,  and  the  lambent  flames, 
which  in  certain  states  of  the  atmosphere  play  round  the 
sails  and  masts  of  vessels,  were  called  by  their  names. 

After  the  Argonautic  expedition,  we  find  Castor  and 
Pollux  engaged  in  a  war  with  Idas  and  Lynceus.  Cas- 
tor was  slain,  and  Pollux,  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of 
his  brother,  besought  Jupiter  to  be  permitted  to  give 
his  own  life  as  a  ransom  for  him.  Jupiter  so  far  con- 


CASTOR  AND  POLLUX  159 

sented  as  to  allow  the  two  brothers  to  enjoy  the  boon 
of  life  alternately,  passing  one  day  under  the  earth  and 
the  next  in  the  heavenly  abodes.  According  to  another 
form  of  the  story,  Jupiter  rewarded  the  attachment  of 
the  brothers  by  placing  them  among  the  stars  as  Gemini 
the  Twins. 

They  received  divine  honors  under  the  name  of 
Dioscuri  (sons  of  Jove).  They  were  believed  to  have 
appeared  occasionally  in  later  times,  taking  part  with 
one  side  or  the  other,  in  hard-fought  fields,  and  were 
said  on  such  occasions  to  be  mounted  on  magnificent 
white  steeds.  Thus  in  the  early  history  of  Rome  they 
are  said  to  have  assisted  the  Romans  at  the  battle  of 
Lake  Regillus,  and  after  the  victory  a  temple  was  erected 
in  their  honor  on  the  spot  where  they  appeared. 

Macaulay,  in  his  "Lays  of  Ancient  Rome/'  thus  al 
ludes  to  the  legend : 

"So  like  they  were,  no  mortal 

Might  one  from  other  know; 
White  as  snow  their  armor  was, 

Their  steeds  were  white  as  snow. 
Never  on  earthly  anvil 

Did  such  rare  armor  gleam, 
And  never  did  such  gallant  steeds 

Drink  of  an  earthly  stream. 


"Back  comes  the  chief  in  triumph 

Who  in  the  hour  of  fight 
Hath  seen  the  great  Twin  Brethren 

In  harness  on  his  right. 
Safe  comes  the  ship  to  haven, 

Through  billows  and  through  galer 
Ttf  once  the  great  Twin  Brethren 

Sit  shining  on  the  sails." 


160        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER   XXI 

BACCHUS — ARIADNE 
BACCHUS 

BACCHUS  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Semele.  Juno, 
to  gratify  her  resentment  against  Semele,  contrived  a 
plan  for  her  destruction.  Assuming  the  form  of  Beroe, 
her  aged  nurse,  she  insinuated  doubts  whether  it  was 
indeed  Jove  himself  who  came  as  a  lover.  Heaving  a 
sigh,  she  said,  "I  hope  it  will  turn  out  so,  but  I  can't 
help  being  afraid.  People  are  not  always  what  they 
pretend  to  be.  If  he  is  indeed  Jove,  make  him  give 
some  proof  of  it.  Ask  him  to  come  arrayed  in  all  his 
splendors,  such  as  he  wears  in  heaven.  That  will  put 
the  matter  beyond  a  doubt."  Semele  was  persuaded  to 
try  the  experiment.  She  asks  a  favor,  without  nam- 
ing what  it  is.  Jove  gives  his  promise,  and  confirms  it 
with  the  irrevocable  oath,  attesting  the  river  Styx,  ter- 
rible to  the  gods  themselves.  Then  she  made  known  her 
request.  The  god  would  have  stopped  her  as  she  spake, 
but  she  was  too  quick  for  him.  The  words  escaped, 
and  he  could  neither  unsay  his  promise  nor  her  request. 
In  deep  distress  he  left  her  and  returned  to  the  upper 
regions.  There  he  clothed  himself  in  his  splendors,  not 
putting  on  all  his  terrors,  as  when  he  overthrew  the 
giants,  but  what  is  known  among  the  gods  as  his  lesser 
panoply.  Arrayed  in  this,  he  entered  the  chamber  of 
Semele.  Her  mortal  frame  could  not  endure  the  splen- 
dors of  the  immortal  radiance.  She  was  consumed  to 
ashes. 

Jove  took  the  infant  Bacchus  and  gave  him  in  charge 
to  the  Nyssean  nymphs,  who  nourished  his  infancy  and 
childhood,  and  for  their  care  were  rewarded  by  Jupiter 
by  being  placed,  as  the  Hyades,  among  the  stars.  When 
Bacchus  grew  up  he  discovered  the  culture  of  the  vine 
and  the  mode  of  extracting  its  precious  juice;  but  Juno 
struck  him  with  madness,  and  drove  him  forth  a  wan- 
derer through  various  parts  of  the  earth.  In  Phrygia 


BACCHUS  161 

the  goduess  Rhea  cured  him  and  taught  him  her  re- 
ligious rites,  and  he  set  out  on  a  progress  through  Asia, 
teaching  the  people  the  cultivation  of  the  vine.  The 
most  famous  part  of  his  wanderings  is  his  expedition  to 
India,  which  is  said  to  have  lasted  several  years.  Re- 
turning in  triumph,  he  undertook  to  introduce  his  wor- 
ship into  Greece,  but  was  opposed  by  some  princes,  who 
dreaded  its  introduction  on  account  of  the  disorders  and 
madness  it  brought  with  it. 

As  he  approached  his  native  city  Thebes,  Pentheus 
the  king,  who  had  no  respect  for  the  new  worship,  for- 
bade its  rites  to  be  performed.  But  when  it  was  known 
that  Bacchus  was  advancing,  men  and  women,  but 
chiefly  the  latter,  young  and  old,  poured  forth  to  meet 
him  and  to  join  his  triumphal  march. 

Mr.  Longfellow  in  his  "Drinking  Song5*  thus  describes 
the  march  of  Bacchus : 

"Fauns  with  youthful  Bacchus  follow; 

Ivy  crowns  that  brow,  supernal 
As  the  forehead  of  Apollo, 
And  possessing  youth  eternal. 

"Round  about  him  fair  Bacchantes, 

Bearing  cymbals,  flutes  and  thyrses, 
Wild  from  Naxian  groves  of  Zante's 
Vineyards,  sing  delirious  verses." 

It  was  in  vain  Pentheus  remonstrated,  commanded, 
and  threatened.  "Go,"  said  he  to  his  attendants,  "seize 
this  vagabond  leader  of  the  rout  and  bring  him  to  me. 
I  will  soon  make  him  confess  his  false  claim  of  heavenly 
parentage  and  renounce  his  counterfeit  worship."  It  was 
in  vain  his  nearest  friends  and  wisest  counsellors  remon- 
strated and  begged  him  not  to  oppose  the  god.  Their 
remonstrances  only  made  him  more  violent. 

But  now  the  attendants  returned  whom  he  had  de- 
spatched to  seize  Bacchus.  They  had  been  driven  away 
by  the  Bacchanals,  but  had  succeeded  in  taking  one  of 
them  prisoner,  whom,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him, 
they  brought  before  the  king.  Pentheus,  beholding  him 
with  wrathful  countenance,  said,  "Fellow!  you  shall 


162       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

speedily  be  put  to  death,  that  your  fate  may  be  a  warn- 
ing to  others;  but  though  I  grudge  the  delay  of  your 
punishment,  speak,  tell  us  who  you  are,  and  what  are 
these  new  rites  you  presume  to  celebrate." 

The  prisoner,  unterrified,  responded,  "My  name  is 
Acetes;  my  country  is  Maeonia;  my  parents  were  poor 
people,  who  had  no  fields  or  flocks  to  leave  me,  but 
they  left  me  their  fishing  rods  and  nets  and  their  fisher- 
man's trade.  This  I  followed  for  some  time,  till  grow- 
ing weary  of  remaining  in  one  place,  I  learned  the  pilot's 
art  and  how  to  guide  my  course  by  the  stars.  It  hap- 
pened as  I  was  sailing  for  Delos  we  touched  at  the 
island  of  Dia  and  went  ashore.  Next  morning  I  sent 
the  men  for  fresh  water,  and  myself  mounted  the  hill 
to  observe  the  wind;  when  my  men  returned  bringing 
with  them  a  prize,  as  they  thought,  a  boy  of  delicate 
appearance,  whom  they  had  found  asleep.  They  judged 
he  was  a  noble  youth,  perhaps  a  king's  son,  and  they 
might  get  a  liberal  ransom  for  him.  I  observed  his 
dress,  his  walk,  his  face.  There  was  something  in  them 
which  I  felt  sure  was  more  than  mortal.  I  said  to  my 
men,  'What  god  there  is  concealed  in  that  form  I  know 
not,  but  some  one  there  certainly  is.  Pardon  us,  gentle 
deity,  for  the  violence  we  have  done  you,  and  give  suc- 
cess to  our  undertakings.'  Dictys,  one  of  my  best  hands 
for  climbing  the  mast  and  coming  down  by  the  ropes, 
and  Melanthus,  my  steersman,  and  Epopeus,  the  leader 
of  the  sailor's  cry,  one  and  all  exclaimed,  'Spare  your 
prayers  for  us.'  So  blind  is  the  lust  of  gain!  When 
they  proceeded  to  put  him  on  board  I  resisted  them. 
'This  ship  shall  not  be  profaned  by  such  impiety,'  said 
I.  'I  have  a  greater  share  in  her  than  any  of  you.'  But 
Lycabas,  a  turbulent  fellow,  seized  me  by  the  throat 
and  attempted  to  throw  me  overboard,  and  I  scarcely 
saved  myself  by  clinging  to  the  ropes.  The  rest  ap- 
proved the  deed. 

"Then  Bacchus  (for  it  was  indeed  he),  as  if  shaking 
off  his  drowsiness,  exclaimed,  'What  are  you  doing  with 
me?  What  is  this  fighting  about?  Who  brought  me 
here?  Where  are  you  going  to  carry  me?'  One  of 
them  replied,  'Fear  nothing;  tell  us  where  you 


BACCHUS  163 

to  go  and  we  will  take  you  there/  'Naxos  is  my  home/ 
said  Bacchus;  'take  me  there  and  you  shall  be  well  re- 
warded/ They  promised  so  to  do,  and  told  me  to  pilot 
the  ship  to  Naxos.  Naxos  lay  to  the  right,  and  I  was 
trimming  the  sails  to  carry  us  there,  when  some  by  signs 
and  others  by  whispers  signified  to  me  their  will  that  I 
should  sail  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  take  the  boy 
to  Egypt  to  sell  him  for  a  slave.  I  was  confounded  and 
said,  'Let  some  one  else  pilot  the  ship ;'  withdrawing  my- 
self from  any  further  agency  in  their  wickedness.  They 
cursed  me,  and  one  of  them,  exclaiming,  'Don't  flatter 
yourself  that  we  depend  on  you  for  our  safety/  took 
my  place  as  pilot,  and  bore  away  from  Naxos. 

"Then  the  god,  pretending  that  he  had  just  become 
aware  of  their  treachery,  looked  out  over  the  sea  and 
said  in  a  voice  of  weeping,  'Sailors,  these  are  not  the 
shores  you  promised  to  take  me  to ;  yonder  island  is 
not  my  home.  What  have  I  done  that  you  should  treat 
me  so?  It  is  small  glory  you  will  gain  by  cheating  a 
poor  boy/  I  wept  to  hear  him,  but  the  crew  laughed 
at  both  of  us,  and  sped  the  vessel  fast  over  the  sea.  All 
at  once — strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  true, — the  vessel 
stopped,  in  the  mid  sea,  as  fast  as  if  it  was  fixed  on 
the  ground.  The  men,  astonished,  pulled  at  their  oars, 
and  spread  more  sail,  trying  to  make  progress  by  the 
aid  of  both,  but  all  in  vain.  Ivy  twined  round  the  oars 
and  hindered  their  motion,  and  clung  to  the  sails,  with 
heavy  clusters  of  berries.  A  vine,  laden  with  grapes, 
ran  up  the  mast,  and  along  the  sides  of  the  vessel.  The 
sound  of  flutes  was  heard  and  the  odor  of  fragrant  wine 
spread  all  around.  The  god  himself  had  a  chaplet  of 
vine  leaves,  and  bore  in  his  hand  a  spear  wreathed  with 
ivy.  Tigers  crouched  at  his  feet,  and  forms  of  lynxes 
and  spotted  panthers  played  around  him.  The  men  were 
seized  with  terror  or  madness;  some  leaped  overboard; 
others  preparing  to  do  the  same  beheld  their  compan- 
ions in  the  water  undergoing  a  change,  their  bodies 
becoming  flattened  and  ending  in  a  crooked  tail.  One 
exclaimed,  'What  miracle  is  this!'  and  as  he  spoke  his 
mouth  widened,  his  nostrils  expanded,  and  scales  cov- 
ered all  his  body.  Another,  endeavoring  to  pull  the  oar. 


164       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

felt  his  hands  shrink  up  and  presently  to  be  no  longer 
hands  but  fins;  another,  trying  to  raise  his  arms  to  a 
rope,  found  he  had  no  arms,  and  curving  his  mutilated 
body,  jumped  into  the  sea.  What  had  been  his  legs- 
became  the  two  ends  of  a  crescent-shaped  tail.  The 
whole  crew  became  dolphins  and  swam  about  the  ship, 
now  upon  the  surface,  now  under  it,  scattering  the 
spray,  and  spouting  the  water  from  their  broad  nostrils. 
Of  twenty  men  I  alone  was  left.  Trembling  with  fear, 
the  god  cheered  me.  'Fear  not/  said  he ;  'steer  towards 
Naxos.'  I  obeyed,  and  when  we  arrived  there,  I  kindled 
the  altars  and  celebrated  the  sacred  rites  of  Bacchus." 

Pentheus  here  exclaimed,  "We  have  wasted  time 
enough  on  this  silly  story.  Take  him  away  and  have 
him  executed  without  delay."  Acetes  was  led  away  by 
the  attendants  and  shut  up  fast  in  prison;  but  while 
they  were  getting  ready  the  instruments  of  execution 
the  prison  doors  came  open  of  their  own  accord  and  the 
chains  fell  from  his  limbs,  and  when  they  looked  for 
him  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

Pentheus  would  take  no  warning,  but  instead  of  send- 
ing others,  determined  to  go  himself  to  the  scene  of 
the  solemnities.  The  mountain  Citheron  was  all  alive 
with  worshippers,  and  the  cries  of  the  Bacchanals  re- 
sounded on  every  side.  The  noise  roused  the  anger  of 
Pentheus  as  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  does  the  fire  of 
a  war-horse.  He  penetrated  through  the  wood  and 
reached  an  open  space  where  the  chief  scene  of  the 
orgies  met  his  eyes.  At  the  same  moment  the  women 
saw  him;  and  first  among  them  his  own  mother,  Agave, 
blinded  by  the  god,  cried  out,  "See  there  the  wild  boar, 
the  hugest  monster  that  prowls  in  these  woods!  Come 
on,  sisters !  I  will  be  the  first  to  strike  the  wild  boar." 
The  whole  band  rushed  upon  him,  and  while  he  now 
talks  less  arrogantly,  now  excuses  himself,  and  now  con- 
fesses his  crime  and  implores  pardon,  they  press  upon 
him  and  wound  him.  In  vain  he  cries  to  his  aunts  to 

?rotect  him  from  his  mother.    Autonoe  seized  one  arm, 
no  the  other,  and  between  them  he  was  torn  to  pieces, 
while  his  mother  shouted,  "Victory!    Victory!  we  have 
done  it ;  the  glory  is  ours !" 


ARIADNE  165 

So  the  worship  of  Bacchus  was  established  in  Greece. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  the  story  of  Bacchus  and  the 
mariners  in  Milton's  "Comus,"  at  line  46.  The  story 
of  Circe  will  be  found  in  Chapter  XXIX. 

"Bacchus  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grapes 
Crushed  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine, 
After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transformed, 
Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore  as  the  winds  listed 
On  Circe's  island  fell   (who  knows  not  Circe, 
The  daughter  of  the  Sun?  whose  charmed  cup 
Whoever  tasted  lost  his  upright  shape, 
And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine)." 

ARIADNE 

We  have  seen  in  the  story  of  Theseus  how  Ariadne, 
the  daughter  of  King  Minos,  after  helping  Theseus  to 
escape  from  the  labyrinth,  was  carried  by  him  to  the 
island  of  Naxos  and  was  left  there  asleep,  while  the  un- 
grateful Theseus  pursued  his  way  home  without  her. 
Ariadne,  on  waking  and  finding  herself  deserted,  aban- 
doned herself  to  grief.  But  Venus  took  pity  on  her,  and 
consoled  her  with  the  promise  that  she  should  have  an 
immortal  lover,  instead  of  the  mortal  one  she  had  lost. 

The  island  where  Ariadne  was  left  was  the  favorite 
island  of  Bacchus,  the  same  that  he  wished  the  Tyrrhe- 
nian mariners  to  carry  him  to,  when  they  so  treacher- 
ously attempted  to  make  prize  of  him.  As  Ariadne  sat 
lamenting  her  fate,  Bacchus  found  her,  consoled  her, 
and  made  her  his  wife.  As  a  marriage  present  he  gave 
her  a  golden  crown,  enriched  with  gems,  and  when  she 
died,  he  took  her  crown  and  threw  it  up  into  the  sky. 
As  it  mounted  the  gems  grew  brighter  and  were  turned 
into  stars,  and  preserving  its  form  Ariadne's  crown  re- 
mains fixed  in  the  heavens  as  a  constellation,  between 
the  kneeling  Hercules  and  the  man  who  holds  the  ser- 
pent. 

Spenser  alludes  to  Ariadne's  crown,  though  he  has 
made  some  mistakes  in  his  mythology.  It  was  at  the 


166        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

wedding  of  Pirithous,  and  not  Theseus,  that  the  Cen- 
taurs and  Lapithse  quarrelled. 

"Look  how  the  crown  which  Ariadne  wore 
Upon  her  ivory  forehead  that  same  day 
That  Theseus  her  unto  his  bridal  bore, 
Then  the  bold  Centaurs  made  that  bloody  fray 
With  the  fierce  Lapiths  which  did  them  dismay; 
Being  now  placed  in  the  firmament, 
Through  the  bright  heaven  doth  her  beams  display, 
And  is  unto  the  stars  an  ornament, 
Which  round  about  her  move  in  order  excellent." 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    RURAL    DEITIES — ERISTCHTIION — RIICECUS — THE 
WATER  DEITIES — CAMEN^E WINDS 

THE  RURAL  DEITIES 

PAN,  the  god  of  woods  and  fields,  of  flocks  and  shep- 
herds, dwelt  in  grottos,  wandered  on  the  mountains  and 
in  valleys,  and  amused  himself  with  the  chase  or  in 
leading  the  dances  of  the  nymphs.  He  was  fond  of 
music,  and  as  we  have  seen,  the  inventor  of  the  syrinx, 
or  shepherd's  pipe,  which  he  himself  played  in  a  mas- 
terly manner.  Pan,  like  other  gods  who  dwelt  in  for- 
ests, was  dreaded  by  those  whose  occupations  caused 
them  to  pass  through  the  woods  by  night,  for  the  gloom 
and  loneliness  of  such  scenes  dispose  the  mind  to  su- 
perstitious fears.  Hence  sudden  fright  without  any 
visible  cause  was  ascribed  to  Pan,  and  called  a  Panic 
terror. 

As  the  name  of  the  god  signifies  all,  Pan  came  to  be 
considered  a  symbol  of  the  universe  and  personification 
of  Nature;  and  later  still  to  be  regarded  as  a  represen- 
tative of  all  the  gods  and  of  heathenism  itself. 

Sylvanus  and  Faunus  were  Latin  divinities,  whose 
characteristics  are  so  nearly  the  same  as  those  of  Pan 
that  we  may  safely  consider  them  as  the  same  person- 
age under  different  names. 


THE  RURAL  DEITIES  167 

The  wood-nymphs,  Pan's  partners  in  the  dance,  were 
but  one  class  of  nymphs.  There  were  beside  them  the 
Naiads,  who  presided  over  brooks  and  fountains,  the 
Oreads,  nymphs  of  mountains  and  grottos,  and  the  Ne- 
reids, sea-nymphs.  The  three  last  named  were  immor- 
tal, but  the  wood-nymphs,  called  Dryads  or  Hamadryads, 
were  believed  to  perish  with  the  trees  which  had  been 
their  abode  and  with  which  they  had  come  into  exist- 
ence. It  was  therefore  an  impious  act  wantonly  to  de- 
stroy a  tree,  and  in  some  aggravated  cases  were  severely 
punished,  as  in  the  instance  of  Erisichthon,  which  we 
are  about  to  record. 

Milton  in  his  glowing  description  of  the  early  cre- 
ation, thus  alludes  to  Pan  as  the  personification  of 
Nature : 

".    .         Universal  Pan, 

Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours  in  dance, 
Led  on  the  eternal  spring." 

And  describing  Eve's  abode : 

".    .    .    In  shadier  bower, 

More  sacred  or  sequestered,  though  but  feigned, 
Pan  or  Sylvanus  never  slept,  nor  nymph 
Nor  Faunus  haunted." 

—Paradise  Lost,  B.  IV. 

It  was  a  pleasing  trait  in  the  old  Paganism  that  it 
loved  to  trace  in  every  operation  of  nature  the  agency 
of  deity.  The  imagination  of  the  Greeks  peopled  all 
the  regions  of  earth  and  sea  with  divinities,  to  whose 
agency  it  attributed  those  phenomena  which  our  phi- 
losophy ascribes  to  the  operation  of  the  laws  of  nature. 
Sometimes  in  our  poetical  moods  we  feel  disposed  to 
regret  the  change,  and  to  think  that  the  heart  has  lost 
as  much  as  the  head  has  gained  by  the  substitution.  The 
poet  Wordsworth  thus  strongly  expresses  this  senti- 
ment: 

".    .    .    Great  God.  I'd  rather  be 
A  Pagan,  suckled  in  a  creed  outworn, 
So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 


168        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  less  forlorn; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  rising  from  the  sea, 
And  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn." 


Schiller,  in  his  poem  "Die  Cotter  Griechenlands,"  ex- 
presses his  regret  for  the  overthrow  of  the  beautiful 
mythology  of  ancient  times  in  a  way  which  has  called 
forth  an  answer  from  a  Christian  poet,  Mrs.  E.  Bar- 
rett Browning,  in  her  poem  called  "The  Dead  Pan." 
The  two  following  verses  are  a  specimen : 

"By  your  beauty  which  confesses 
Some  chief  Beauty  conquering  you, 
By  our  grand  heroic  guesses 
Through  your  falsehood  at  the  True, 
We  will  weep  not!  earth  shall  roll 
Heir  to  each  god's  aureole, 

And  Pan  is  dead. 

"Earth  outgrows  the  mythic  fancies 
Sung  beside  her  in  her  youth ; 
And  those  debonaire  romances 
Sound  but  dull  beside  the  truth. 
Phoebus'  chariot  course  is  run ! 
Look  up,  poets,  to  the  sun ! 

Pan,  Pan  is  dead." 


These  lines  are  founded  on  an  early  Christian  tra- 
dition that  when  the  heavenly  host  told  the  shepherds 
at  Bethlehem  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  a  deep  groan,  heard 
through  all  the  isles  of  Greece,  told  that  the  great  Pan 
was  dead,  and  that  all  the  royalty  of  Olympus  was 
dethroned  and  the  several  deities  were  sent  wandering 
in  cold  and  darkness.  So  Milton  in  his  "Hymn  on  the 
Nativity" : 

"The  lonely  mountains  o'er, 
And  the  resounding  shore, 

A  voice  of  weeping  heard  and  loud  lament; 
From  haunted  spring  and  dale, 
Edged  with  poplar  pale, 

The  parting  Genius  is  with  sighing  sent; 
With  flower-enwoyen  tresses  torn, 
The  nymphs  in  twilight  shade  of  tangled  thickets  mourn." 


ERISICHTHON  169 


ERISICHTHON 

Erisichthon  was  a  profane  person  and  a  despiser  of 
the  gods.  On  one  occasion  he  presumed  to  violate  with 
the  axe  a  grove  sacred  to  Ceres.  There  stood  in  this 
grove  a  venerable  oak  so  large  that  it  seemed  a  wood 
in  itself,  its  ancient  trunk  towering  aloft,  whereon  vo- 
tive garlands  were  often  hung  and  inscriptions  carved 
expressing  the  gratitude  of  suppliants  to  the  nymph  of 
the  tree.  Often  had  the  Dryads  danced  round  it  hand 
in  hand.  Its  trunk  measured  fifteen  cubits  round,  and 
it  overtopped  the  other  trees  as  they  overtopped  the 
shrubbery.  But  for  all  that,  Erisichthon  saw  no  reason 
why  he  should  spare  it  and  he  ordered  his  servants  to 
cut  it  down.  When  he  saw  them  hesitate  he  snatched 
an  axe  from  one,  and  thus  impiously  exclaimed :  "I  care 
not  whether  it  be  a  tree  beloved  of  the  goddess  or  not ; 
were  it  the  goddess  herself  it  should  come  down  if  it 
stood  in  my  way."  So  saying,  he  lifted  the  axe  and  the 
oak  seemed  to  shudder  and  utter  a  groan.  When  the 
first  blow  fell  upon  the  trunk  blood  flowed  from  the 
wound.  All  the  bystanders  were  horror-struck,  and  one 
of  them  ventured  to  remonstrate  and  hold  back  the  fatal 
axe.  Erisichthon,  with  a  scornful  look,  said  to  him, 
"Receive  the  reward  of  your  piety ;"  and  turned  against 
him  the  weapon  which  he  had  held  aside  from  the  tree, 
gashed  his  body  with  many  wounds,  and  cut  off  his 
head.  Then  from  the  midst  of  the  oak  came  a  voice, 
"I  who  dwell  in  this  tree  am  a  nymph  beloved  of  Ceres, 
and  dying  by  your  hands  forewarn  you  that  punish- 
ment awaits  you."  He  desisted  not  from  his  crime,  and 
at  last  the  tree,  sundered  by  repeated  blows  and  drawn 
by  ropes,  fell  with  a  crash  and  prostrated  a  great  part 
of  the  grove  in  its  fall. 

The  Dryads  in  dismay  at  the  loss  of  their  compan- 
ion and  at  seeing  the  pride  of  the  forest  laid  low,  went 
in  a  body  to  Ceres,  all  clad  in  garments  of  mourning, 
and  invoked  punishment  upon  Erisichthon.  She  nod- 
ded her  assent,  and  as  she  bowed  her  head  the  grain 
ripe  for  harvest  in  the  laden  fields  bowed  also.  She 
planned  a  punishment  so  dire  that  one  would  pity  him, 


170        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

if  such  a  culprit  as  he  could  be  pitied, — to  deliver  him 
over  to  Famine.  As  Ceres  herself  could  not  approach 
Famine,  for  the  Fates  have  ordained  that  these  two 
goddesses  shall  never  come  together,  she  called  an 
Oread  from  her  mountain  and  spoke  to  her  in  these 
words :  "There  is  a  place  in  the  farthest  part  of  ice- 
clad  Scythia,  a  sad  and  sterile  region  without  trees  and 
without  crops.  Cold  dwells  there,  and  Fear  and  Shud- 
dering, and  Famine.  Go  and  tell  the  last  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  bowels  of  Erisichthon.  Let  not  abundance 
subdue  her,  nor  the  power  of  my  gifts  drive  her  away. 
Be  not  alarmed  at  the  distance"  (for  Famine  dwells 
very  far  from  Ceres),  "but  take  my  chariot.  The 
dragons  are  fleet  and  obey  the  rein,  and  will  take  you 
through  the  air  in  a  short  time/'  So  she  gave  her  the 
reins,  and  she  drove  away  and  soon  reached  Scythia. 
On  arriving  at  Mount  Caucasus  she  stopped  the  drag- 
ons and  found  Famine  in  a  stony  field,  pulling  up  with 
teeth  and  claws  the  scanty  herbage.  Her  hair  was 
rough,  her  eyes  sunk,  her  face  pale,  her  lips  blanched, 
her  jaws  covered  with  dust,  and  her  skin  drawn  tight, 
so  as  to  show  all  her  bones.  As  the  Oread  saw  her 
afar  off  (for  she  did  not  dare  to  come  near),  she  de- 
livered the  commands  of  Ceres;  and,  though  she  stopped 
as  short  a  time  as  possible,  and  kept  her  distance  as 
well  as  she  could,  yet  she  began  to  feel  hungry,  and 
turned  the  dragons'  heads  and  drove  back  to  Thessaly. 

Jbamme  obeyed  the  commands  of  Ceres  and  sped 
through  the  air  to  the  dwelling  of  Erisichthon,  entered 
the  bedchamber  of  the  guilty  man,  and  found  him  asleep. 
She  enfolded  him  with  her  wings  and  breathed  herself 
into  him,  infusing  her  poison  into  his  veins.  Having 
discharged  her  task,  she  hastened  to  leave  the  land  of 
plenty  and  returned  to  her  accustomed  haunts.  Erisich- 
thon still  slept,  and  in  his  dreams  craved  food,  and 
moved  his  jaws  as  if  eating.  When  he  awoke,  his 
hunger  was  raging.  Without  a  moment's  delay  he  would 
have  food  set  before  him,  of  whatever  kind  earth  sea, 
or  air  produces;  and  complained  of  hunger  even  while 
he  ate.  What  would  have  sufficed  for  a  city  or  a  na- 
tion, was  not  enough  for  him.  The  more  he  ate  the 


ERISICHTHON  171 

more  he  craved.  His  hunger  was  like  the  sea,  which  re- 
ceives all  the  rivers,  yet  is  never  filled;  or  like  fire, 
that  burns  all  the  fuel  that  is  heaped  upon  it,  yet  is  still 
voracious  for  more. 

His  property  rapidly  diminished  under  the  unceasing 
demands  of  his  appetite,  but  his  hunger  continued  un- 
abated. At  length  he  had  spent  all  and  had  only  his 
daughter  left,  a  daughter  worthy  of  a  better  parent. 
Her  too  he  sold.  She  scorned  to  be  the  slave  of  a  pur- 
chaser and  as  she  stood  by  the  seaside  raised  her  hands 
in  prayer  to  Neptune.  He  heard  her  prayer,  and  though 
her  new  master  was  not  far  off  and  had  his  eye  upon 
her  a  moment  before,  Neptune  changed  her  form  and 
made  her  assume  that  of  a  fisherman  busy  at  his  oc- 
cupation. Her  master,  looking  for  her  and  seeing  her 
in  her  altered  form,  addressed  her  and  said,  "Good 
fisherman,  whither  went  the  maiden  whom  I  saw  just 
now,  with  hair  dishevelled  and  in  humble  garb,  standing 
about  where  you  stand?  Tell  me  truly;  so  may  your 
luck  be  good  and  not  a  fish  nibble  at  your  hook  and  get 
away."  She  perceived  that  her  prayer  was  answered 
and  rejoiced  inwardly  at  hearing  herself  inquired  of 
about  herself.  She  replied,  "Pardon  me,  stranger,  but 
I  have  been  so  intent  upon  my  line  that  I  have  seen 
nothing  else;  but  I  wish  I  may  never  catch  another  fish 
if  I  believe  any  woman  or  other  person  except  myself 
to  have  been  hereabouts  for  some  time.''  He  was  de- 
ceived and  went  his  way,  thinking  his  stave  had  escaped. 
Then  she  resumed  her  own  form.  Her  father  was  well 
pleased  to  find  her  still  with  him,  and  the  money  too  that 
he  got  by  the  sale  of  her;  so  he  sold  her  again.  But 
she  was  changed  by  the  favor  of  Neptune  as  often  as 
she  was  sold,  now  into  a  horse,  now  a  bird,  now  an  ox, 
and  now  a  stag, — got  away  from  her  purchasers  and 
came  home.  By  this  base  method  the  starving  father 
procured  food ;  but  not  enough  for  his  wants,  and  at  last 
hunger  compelled  him  to  devour  his  limbs,  and  he  strove 
to  nourish  his  body  by  eating  his  body,  till  death  re 
lievcd  him  from  the  vengeance  of  Ceres. 


172       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


RHCECUS 

The  Hamadryads  could  appreciate  services  as  well  as 
punish  injuries.  The  story  of  Rhcecus  proves  this. 
Rhoecus,  happening  to  see  an  oak  just  ready  to  fall, 
ordered  his  servants  to  prop  it  up.  The  nymph,  who 
had  been  on  the  point  of  perishing  with  the  tree,  came 
and  expressed  her  gratitude  to  him  for  having  saved 
her  life  and  bade  him  ask  what  reward  he  would. 
Rhoecus  boldly  asked  her  love  and  the  nymph  yielded  to 
his  desire.  She  at  the  same  time  charged  him  to  be 
constant  and  told  him  that  a  bee  should  be  her  mes- 
senger and  let  him  know  when  she  would  admit  his 
society.  One  time  the  bee  came  to  Rhoecus  when  he 
was  playing  at  draughts  and  he  carelessly  brushed  it 
away.  This  so  incensed  the  nymph  that  she  deprived 
him  of  sight. 

Our  countryman,  J.  R.  Lowell,  has  taken  this  story 
for  the  subject  of  one  of  his  shorter  poems.  He  intro- 
duces it  thus : 

"Hear  now  this  fairy  legend  of  old  Greece, 
As  full  of  freedom,  youth  and  beauty  still, 
As  the  immortal  freshness  of  that  grace 
Carved  for  all  ages  on  some  Attic  frieze." 

THE   WATER  DEITIES 

Oceanus  and  Tethys  were  the  Titans  who  ruled  over 
the  watery  element.  When  Jove  and  his  brothers  over- 
threw the  Titans  and  assumed  their  power,  Neptune  and 
Amphitrite  succeeded  to  the  dominion  of  the  waters  in 
place  of  Oceanus  and  Tethys. 

NEPTUNE 

Neptune  was  the  chief  of  the  water  deities.  The 
symbol  of  his  power  was  the  trident,  or  spear  with 
three  points,  with  which  he  used  to  shatter  rocks,  to 
call  forth  or  subdue  storms,  to  shake  the  shores  and  the 
like.  He  created  the  horse  and  was  the  patron  of 


THE  WATER  DEITIES  173 

horse  races.  His  own  horses  had  brazen  hoofs  and 
golden  manes.  They  drew  his  chariot  over  the  sea, 
which  became  smooth  before  him,  while  the  monsters 
of  the  deep  gambolled  about  his  path. 

AMPHITRITE 

Amphitrite  was  the  wife  of  Neptune.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Nereus  and  Doris,  and  the  mother  of  Triton. 
Neptune,  to  pay  his  court  to  Amphitrite,  came  riding  on 
a  dolphin.  Having  won  her  he  rewarded  the  dolphin 
by  placing  him  among  the  stars. 

NEREUS  AND  DORIS 

Nereus  and  Doris  were  the  parents  ot  the  Nereids, 
the  most  celebrated  of  whom  were  Amphitrite,  Thetis, 
the  mother  of  Achilles,  and  Galatea,  who  was  loved 
by  the  Cyclops  Polyphemus.  Nereus  was  distinguished 
for  his  knowledge  and  his  love  of  truth  and  justice, 
whence  he  was  termed  an  elder;  the  gift  of  prophecy 
was  also  assigned  to  him. 

TRITON    AND   PROTEU? 

Triton  was  the  son  of  Neptune  and  Amphitrite,  and 
the  poets  make  him  his  father's  trumpeter.  Proteus 
was  also  a  son  of  Neptune.  He,  like  Nereus,  is  styled 
a  sea-elder  for  Irs  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  future 
events.  His  peculiar  power  was  that  of  changing  his 
shape  at  will. 

THETIS 

Thetis,  the  daughter  of  Nereus  and  Doris,  was  so 
beautiful  that  Jupiter  himself  sought  her  in  marriage; 
but  having  learned  from  Prometheus  the  Titan  that 
Thetis  should  bear  a  son  who  should  grow  greater  than 
his  father,  Jupiter  desisted  from  his  suit  and  decreed 
that  Thetis  should  be  the  wife  of  a  mortal.  By  the 
aid  of  Chiron  the  Centaur,  Peleus  succeeded  in  winning 


174       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  goddess  for  his  bride  and  their  son  was  the  re- 
nowned Achilles.  In  our  chapter  on  the  Trojan  war 
it  will  appear  that  Thesis  was  a  faithful  mother  to  him, 
aiding  him  in  all  difficulties,  and  watching  over  his  in- 
terests from  the  first  to  the  last. 


LEUCOTHEA  AND   PAL^MON 

Ino,  the  daughter  of  Cadmus  and  wife  of  Athamas, 
flying  from  her  frantic  husband  with  her  little  son  Meli- 
certes  in  her  arms,  sprang  from  a  cliff  into  the  sea. 
The  gods,  out  of  compassion,  made  her  a  goddess  of 
the  sea,  under  the  name  of  Leucothea,  and  him  a  god, 
under  that  of  Palaemon.  Both  were  held  powerful  to 
save  from  shipwreck  and  were  invoked  by  sailors. 
Palaemon  was  usually  represented  riding  on  a  dolphin. 
The  Isthmian  games  were  celebrated  in  his  honor.  He 
was  called  Portunus  by  the  Romans,  and  believed  to 
have  jurisdiction  of  the  ports  and  shores. 

Milton  alludes  to  all  these  deities  in  the  song  at  the 
conclusion  of  "Comus" : 

".    .     .     Sabrina  fair, 
Listen  and  appear  to  us, 
In  name  of  great  Oceanus; 
By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  «",Ace, 
And  Tethys'  grave,  majestic  pace, 
By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look, 
And  the  Carpathian  wizard's  hook,1 
By  scaly  Triton's  winding  shell, 
And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'  spell, 
By  Leucothea's  lovely  hands, 
And  her  son  who  rules  the  strands. 
By  Thetis'  tinsel-slippered  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet;"  etc. 


Armstrong,  the  poet  of  the  "Art  of  preserving 
Health,"  under  the  inspiration  of  Hygeia,  the  goddess 
of  health,  thus  celebrates  the  Naiads.  Paeon  is  a  name 
both  of  Apollo  and  ^Esculapius. 

1  Proteus. 


THE  WATER  DEITIES  175 

"Come,  ye  Naiads!  to  the  fountains  lead! 
Propitious  maids !  the  task  remains  to  sing 
Your  gifts  (so  Paeon,  so  the  powers  of  Health 
Command),  to  praise  your  crystal  element. 
O  comfortable  streams!  with  eager  lips 
And  trembling  hands  the  languid  thirsty  quaff 
New  life  in  you;  fresh  vigor  fills  their  veins. 
No  warmer  cups  the  rural  ages  knew, 
None  warmer  sought  the  sires  of  humankind; 
Happy  in  temperate  peace  their  equal  days 
Felt  not  the  alternate  fits  of  feverish  mirth 
And  sick  dejection;  still  serene  and  pleased, 
Blessed  with  divine  immunity  from  ills, 
Long  centuries  they  lived;  their  only  fate 
Was  ripe  old  age,  and  rather  sleep  than  death." 


THE  CAMENyE 

By  this  name  the  Latins  designated  the  Muses,  but 
included  under  it  also  some  other  deities,  principally 
nymphs  of  fountains.  Egeria  was  one  of  them,  whose 
fountain  and  grotto  are  still  shown.  It  was  said  that 
Numa,  the  second  king  of  Rome,  was  favored  by  this 
nymph  with  secret  interviews,  in  which  she  taught  him 
those  lessons  of  wisdom  and  of  law  which  he  imbodied 
in  the  institutions  of  his  rising  nation.  After  the  death 
of  Numa  the  nymph  pined  away  and  was  changed  into 
a  fountain. 

Byron,  in  "Childe  Harold,"  Canto  IV.,  thus  alludes 
to  Egeria  and  her  grotto: 

"Here  didst  thou  dwell,  in  this  enchanted  cover, 
Egeria !  all  thy  heavenly  bosom  beating 
For  the  far  footsteps  of  thy  mortal  lover; 
The  purple  midnight  veiled  that  mystic  meeting 
With  her  most  starry  canopy;"  etc. 


Tennyson,  also,  in  his  "Palace  of  Art,"  gives  us 
glimpse  of  the  royal  lover  expecting  the  interview : 

"Holding  one  hand  against  his  ear, 
To  list  a  footfall  ere  he  saw 
The  wood-nymph,  stayed  the  Tuscan  king  to  hear 
Of  wisdom  and  of  law." 


176       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE  WINDS 

When  so  many  less  active  agencies  were  personified, 
it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  winds  failed  to  be  so. 
They  were  Boreas  or  Aquilo,  the  north  wind;  Zephyrus 
or  Favonius,  the  west ;  Notus  or  Auster,  the  south ;  and 
Eurus,  the  east.  The  first  two  have  been  chiefly  cele- 
brated by  the  poets,  the  former  as  the  type  of  rude- 
ness, the  latter  of  gentleness.  Boreas  loved  the  nymph 
Orithyia,  and  tried  to  play  the  lover's  part,  but  met 
with  poor  success.  It  was  hard  for  him  to  breathe 
gently,  and  sighing  was  out  of  the  question.  Weary  at  last 
of  fruitless  endeavors,  he  acted  out  his  true  character, 
seized  the  maiden  and  carried  her  off.  Their  children 
were  Zetes  and  Calais,  winged  warriors,  who  accom- 
panied the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  did  good  service 
in  an  encounter  with  those  monstrous  birds  the  Harpies. 

Zephyrus  was  the  lover  of  Flora.  Milton  alludes 
to  them  in  "Paradise  Lost,"  where  he  describes  Adam 
waking  and  contemplating  Eve  still  asleep. 

4<.    .    .    He  on  his  side 

Leaning  half  raised,  with  looks  of  cordial  love, 
Hung  over  her  enamored,  and  beheld 
Beauty  which,  whether  waking  or  asleep, 
Shot  forth  peculiar  graces;  then  with  voice, 
Mild  as  when  Zephyrus  on  Flora  breathes, 
Her  hand  soft  touching,  whispered  thus:  'Awake! 
My  fairest,  my  espoused,  my  latest  found, 
Heaven's  last,  best  gift,  my  ever-new  delight/" 

Dr.  Young,  the  poet  of  the  "Night  Thoughts,"  ad- 
dressing the  idle  and  luxurious,  says : 

"Ye  delicate!  who  nothing  can  support 
(Yourselves  most  insupportable)  for  whom 
The  winter  rose  must  blow,    .    .    . 
.    .    .    and  silky  soft 
Favonius  breathe  still  softer  or  be  chid  1" 


STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

(Continued) 
CHAPTER  XXIII 

ACHELOUS  AND  HERCULES — ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS — 
ANTIGONE — PENELOPE 

ACHELOUS    AND    HERCULES 

THE  river-god  Achelous  told  the  story  of  Erisichthon 
to  Theseus  and  his  companions,  whom  he  was  enter- 
taining at  his  hospitable  board,  while  they  were  delayed 
on  their  journey  by  the  overflow  of  his  waters.  Having 
finished  his  story,  he  added,  "But  why  should  I  tell  of 
other  persons'  transformations  when  I  myself  am  an 
instance  of  the  possession  of  this  power?  Sometimes  I 
become  a  serpent,  and  sometimes  a  bull,  with  horns  on 
my  head.  Or  I  should  say  I  once  could  do  so ;  but  now 
I  have  but  one  horn,  having  lost  one/*  And  here  he 
groaned  and  was  silent. 

Theseus  asked  him  the  cause  of  his  grief,  and  how 
ne  lost  his  horn.  To  which  question  the  river-god  re- 
plied as  follows:  "Who  likes  to  tell  oi  his  defeats? 
Yet  I  will  not  hesitate  to  relate  mine,  comforting  my- 
self with  the  thought  of  the  greatness  of  my  conqueror, 
for  it  was  Hercules.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  the 
fame  of  Dejanira,  the  fairest  of  maidens,  whom  a  host 
of  suitors  strove  to  win.  Hercules  and  myself  were  of 
the  number,  and  trie  rest  yielded  to  us  two.  He  urged 
in  his  behalf  his  descent  from  Jove  and  his  labors  by 
which  he  had  exceeded  the  exactions  of  Juno,  his  step- 
mother. I,  on  the  other  hand,  said  to  the  father  of  the 
maiden,  'Behold  me,  the  king  of  the  waters  that  flow 

177 


178        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

through  your  land.  I  am  no  stranger  from  a  foreign 
shore,  but  belong  to  the  country,  a  part  of  your  realm. 
Let  it  not  stand  in  my  way  that  royal  Juno  owes  me  no 
enmity  nor  punishes  me  with  heavy  tasks.  As  for  this 
man,  who  boasts  himself  the  son  of  Jove,  it  is  either 
a  false  pretence,  or  disgraceful  to  him  if  true,  for  it 
cannot  be  true  except  by  his  mother's  shame.'  As  I  said 
this  Hercules  scowled  upon  me,  and  with  difficulty  re- 
strained his  rage.  'My  hand  will  answer  better  than 
my  tongue/  said  he.  *I  yield  to  you  the  victory  in  words, 
but  trust  my  cause  to  the  strife  of  deeds.'  With  that 
he  advanced  towards  me,  and  I  was  ashamed,  after 
what  I  had  said,  to  yield.  I  threw  off  my  green  vesture 
and  presented  myself  for  the  struggle.  He  tried  to 
throw  me,  now  attacking  my  head,  now  my  body.  My 
bulk  was  my  protection,  and  he  assailed  me  in  vain. 
For  a  time  we  stopped,  then  returned  to  the  conflict. 
We  each  kept  our  position,  determined  not  to  yield,  foot 
to  foot,  I  bending  over  him,  clenching  his  hand  in  mine, 
with  my  forehead  almost  touching  his.  Thrice  Hercules 
tried  to  throw  me  off,  and  the  fourth  time  he  succeed- 
ed, brought  me  to  the  ground,  and  himself  upon  my 
back.  I  tell  you  the  truth,  it  was  as  if  a  mountain  had 
fallen  on  me.  I  struggled  to  get  my  arms  at  liberty, 
panting  and  reeking  with  perspiration.  He  gave  me  no 
chance  to  recover,  but  seized  my  throat.  My  knees 
were  on  the  earth  and  my  mouth  in  the  dust. 

"Finding  that  I  was  no  match  for  him  in  the  warrior's 
art,  I  resorted  to  others  and  glided  away  in  the  form 
of  a  serpent.  I  curled  my  body  in  a  coil  and  hissed 
at  him  with  my  forked  tongue.  He  smiled  scornfully 
at  this,  and  said,  'It  was  the  labor  of  my  infancy  to 
conquer  snakes.'  So  saying  he  clasped  my  neck  with 
his  hands.  I  was  almost  choked,  and  struggled  to  get 
my  neck  out  of  his  grasp.  Vanquished  in  this  form,  I 
tried  what  alone  remained  to  me  and  assumed  the  form 
of  a  bull.  He  grasped  my  neck  with  his  arm,  and  drag- 
ging my  head  down  to  the  ground,  overthrew  me  on 
the  sand.  Nor  was  this  enough.  His  ruthless  hand  rent 
my  horn  from  my  head.  The  Naiades  took  it,  conse- 
crated it,  and  filled  it  with  fragrant  flowers.  Plenty 


ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS  179 

adopted  my  horn  and  made  it  her  own,  and  called  it 
'Cornucopia/  " 

The  ancients  were  fond  of  finding  a  hidden  meaning 
in  their  mythological  tales.  They  explain  this  fight  of 
Achelous  with  Hercules  by  saying  Achelous  was  a  river 
that  in  seasons  of  rain  overflowed  its  banks.  When 
the  fable  says  that  Achelous  loved  Dejanira,  and  sought 
a  union  with  her,  the  meaning  is  that  the  river  in  its 
windings  flowed  through  part  of  Dejanira's  kingdom. 
It  was  said  to  take  the  form  of  a  snake  because  of 
its  winding,  and  of  a  bull  because  it  made  a  brawling 
or  roaring  in  its  course.  When  the  river  swelled,  it 
made  itself  another  channel.  Thus  its  head  was  horned. 
Hercules  prevented  the  return  of  these  periodical  over- 
flows by  embankments  and  canals;  and  therefore  he  was 
said  to  have  vanquished  the  river-god  and  cut  off  his 
horn.  Finally,  the  lands  formerly  subject  to  overflow, 
but  now  redeemed,  became  very  fertile,  and  this  is  meant 
by  the  horn  of  plenty. 

There  is  another  account  of  the  origin  of  the  Cornu- 
copia. Jupiter  at  his  oirth  was  committed  by  his  mother 
Rhea  to  the  care  of  the  daughters  of  Melisseus,  a  Cretan 
king.  They  fed  the  infant  deity  with  the  milk  of  the 
goat  Amalthea.  Jupiter  broke  off  one  of  the  horns 
of  the  goat  and  gave  it  to  his  nurses,  and  endowed  it 
with  the  wonderful  power  of  becoming  filled  with  what- 
ever the  possessor  might  wish. 

The  name  of  Amalthea  is  also  given  by  some  writers 
to  the  mother  of  Bacchus.  It  is  thus  used  by  Milton, 
"Paradise  Lost,"  Book  IV.: 

".     .    .     That  Nyseian  isle, 
Girt  with  the  river  Triton,  where  old  Cham, 
Whom  Gentiles  Ammon  call,  and  Libyan  Jove, 
Hid  Amalthea  and  her  florid  son, 
Young  Bacchus,  from  his  stepdame  Rhea's  eye." 

ADMETUS  AND  ALCESTIS 

^Esculapius,  the  son  of  Apollo,  was  endowed  by  his 
father  with  such  skill  in  the  healing  art  that  he  even 


180        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

restored  the  dead  to  life.  At  this  Pluto  took  alarm, 
and  prevailed  on  Jupiter  to  launch  a  thunderbolt  at 
yEsculapius.  Apollo  was  indignant  at  the  destruction 
of  his  son,  and  wreaked  his  vengeance  on  the  inno- 
cent workmen  who  had  made  the  thunderbolt.  These 
were  the  Cyclopes,  who  have  their  workshop  under 
Mount  jEtna,  from  which  the  smoke  and  flames  of 
their  furnaces  are  constantly  issuing.  Apollo  shot  his 
arrows  at  the  Cyclopes,  which  so  incensed  Jupiter  that 
he  condemned  him  as  a  punishment  to  become  the  serv- 
ant of  a  mortal  for  the  space  of  one  year.  Accord- 
ingly Apollo  went  into  the  service  of  Admetus,  king  of 
Thessaly,  and  pastured  his  flocks  for  him  on  the  verdant 
banks  of  the  river  Amphrysos. 

Admetus  was  a  suitor,  with  others,  for  the  hand  of 
Alcestis,  the  daughter  of  Pelias,  who  promised  her  to 
him  who  should  come  for  her  in  a  chariot  drawn  by 
lions  and  boars.  This  task  Admetus  performed  by  the 
assistance  of  his  divine  herdsman,  and  was  made  happy 
in  the  possession  of  Alcestis.  But  Admetus  fell  ill, 
and  being  near  to  death,  Apollc  prevailed  on  the  Fates 
to  spare  him  on  condition  that  some  one  would  con- 
sent to  die  in  his  stead.  Admetus,  in  his  joy  at  this 
reprieve,  thought  little  of  the  ransom,  and  perhaps  re- 
membering the  declarations  of  attachment  which  he  had 
often  heard  from  his  courtiers  and  dependents  fancied 
that  it  would  be  easy  to  find  a  substitute.  But  it  was 
not  so.  Brave  warriors,  who  would  willingly  have  per- 
illed their  lives  for  their  prince,  shrunk  from  the  thought 
of  dying  for  him  on  the  bed  of  sickness;  and  old  serv- 
ants who  had  experienced  his  bounty  and  that  of  his 
house  from  their  childhood  up,  were  not  willing  to  lay 
down  the  scanty  remnant  of  their  days  to  show  their 
gratitude.  Men  asked,  "Why  does  not  one  of  his  par- 
ents do  it?  They  cannot  in  the  course  of  nature  live 
much  longer,  and  who  can  feel  like  them  the  call  to 
rescue  the  life  they  gave  from  an  untimely  end?"  But 
the  parents,  distressed  though  they  were  at  the  thought 
of  losing  him,  shrunk  from  the  call.  Then  Alcestis,  with 
a  generous  self-devotion,  proffered  herself  as  the  sub- 
stitute. Admetus,  fond  as  he  was  of  life,  would  not 


ANTIGONE  181 

have  submitted  to  receive  it  at  such  a  cost;  but  there 
was  no  remedy.  The  condition  imposed  by  the  Fates 
had  been  met,  and  the  decree  was  irrevocable.  Alcestis 
sickened  as  Admetus  revived,  and  she  was  rapidly  sink- 
ing to  the  grave. 

Just  at  this  time  Hercules  arrived  at  the  palace  of 
Admetus,  and  found  all  the  inmates  in  great  distress 
for  the  impending  loss  of  the  devoted  wife  and  beloved 
mistress.  Hercules,  to  whom  no  labor  was  too  arduous, 
resolved  to  attempt  her  rescue.  He  went  and  lay  in 
wait  at  the  door  of  the  chamber  of  the  dying  queen, 
and  when  Death  came  for  his  prey,  he  seized  him  and 
forced  him  to  resign  his  victim.  Alcestis  recovered,  and 
was  restored  to  her  husband. 

Milton  alludes  to  the  story  of  Alcestis  in  his  Sonnet 
"on  his  deceased  wife:" 

"Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Rescued  from  death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint." 

J.  R.  Lowell  has  chosen  the  "Shepherd  of  King  Ad- 
metus" for  the  subject  of  a  short  poem.  He  makes  that 
event  the  first  introduction  of  poetry  to  men. 

"Men  called  him  but  a  shiftless  youth, 

In  whom  no  good  they  saw, 
And  yet  unwittingly,  in  truth, 
They  made  his  careless  words  their  law. 

"And  day  by  dav  more  holy  grew 
Each  spot  where  he  had  trod, 
Till  after-poets  only  knew 
Their  first-born  brother  was  a  god." 


ANTIGONE 

A  large  proportion  both  of  the  interesting  persons 
and  of  the  exalted  acts  of  legendary  Greece  belongs  to 
the  female  sex.  Antigone  was  as  bright  an  example 
of  filial  and  sisterly  fidelity  as  was  Alcestis  of  connu- 


182        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

bial  devotion.  She  was  the  daughter  of  CEdipus  and 
Jocasta,  who  with  all  their  descendants  were  the  victims 
of  an  unrelenting  fate,  dooming  them  to  destruction. 
(Edipus  in  his  madness  had  torn  out  his  eyes,  and  was 
driven  forth  from  his  kingdom  Thebes,  dreaded  and 
abandoned  by  all  men,  as  an  object  of  divine  vengeance. 
Antigone,  his  daughter,  alone  shared  his  wanderings  and 
remained  with  him  till  he  died,  and  then  returned  to 
Thebes. 

Her  brothers,  Eteocles  and  Polynices,  had  agreed  to 
share  the  kingdom  between  them,  and  reign  alternately 
year  by  year.  The  first  year  fell  to  the  lot  of  Eteocles, 
who,  when  his  time  expired,  refused  to  surrender  the 
kingdom  to  his  brother.  Polynices  fled  to  Adrastus, 
king  of  Argos,  who  gave  him  his  daughter  in  marriage, 
and  aided  him  with  an  army  to  enforce  his  claim  to  the 
kingdom.  This  led  to  the  celebrated  expedition  of  the 
"Seven  against  Thebes,"  which  furnished  ample  ma- 
terials for  the  epic  and  tragic  poets  of  Greece. 

Amphiaraus,  the  brother-in-law  of  Adrastus,  opposed 
the  enterprise,  for  he  was  a  soothsayer,  and  knew  by 
his  art  that  no  one  of  the  leaders  except  Adrastus  would 
live  to  return.  But  Amphiaraus,  on  his  marriage  to 
Eriphyle,  the  king's  sister,  had  agreed  that  whenever  he 
and  Adrastus  should  differ  in  opinion,  the  decision 
should  be  left  to  Eriphyle.  Polynices,  knowing  this, 
gave  Eriphyle  the  collar  of  Harmonia,  and  thereby 
gained  her  to  his  interest.  This  collar  or  necklace  was 
a  present  which  Vulcan  had  given  to  Harmonia  on  her 
marriage  with  Cadmus,  and  Polynices  had  taken  it  with 
him  on  his  flight  from  Thebes.  Eriphyle  could  not  re- 
sist so  tempting  a  bribe,  and  by  her  decision  the  war  was 
resolved  on,  and  Amphiaraus  went  to  his  certain  fate. 
He  bore  his  part  bravely  in  the  contest,  but  could  not 
avert  his  destiny.  Pursued  by  the  enemy,  he  fled  along 
the  river,  when  a  thunderbolt  launched  by  Jupiter 
opened  the  ground,  and  he,  his  chariot,  and  his  chari- 
oteer were  swallowed  up. 

It  would  not  be  in  place  here  to  detail  all  the  acts 
of  heroism  or  atrocity  which  marked  the  contest;  but 
we  must  not  omit  to  record  the  fidelity  of  Evadne  as 


ANTIGONE  183 

an  offset  to  the  weakness  of  Eriphyle.  Capaneus,  the 
husband  of  Evadne,  in  the  ardor  of  the  fight  declared 
that  he  would  force  his  way  into  the  city  in  spite  of 
Jove  himself.  Placing  a  ladder  against  the  wall  he 
mounted,  but  Jupiter,  offended  at  his  impious  language, 
struck  him  with  a  thunderbolt.  When  his  obsequies 
were  celebrated,  Evadne  cast  herself  on  his  funeral  pile 
and  perished. 

Early  in  the  contest  Eteocles  consulted  the  sooth- 
sayer Tiresias  as  to  the  issue.  Tiresias  in  his  youth 
had  by  chance  seen  Minerva  bathing.  The  goddess  in 
her  wrath  deprived  him  of  his  sight,  but  afterwards 
relenting  gave  him  in  compensation  the  knowledge  of 
future  events.  When  consulted  by  Eteocles,  he  de- 
clared that  victory  should  fall  to  Thebes  if  Menceceus, 
the  son  of  Creon,  gave  himself  a  voluntary  victim.  The 
heroic  youth,  learning  the  response,  threw  away  his  life 
in  the  first  encounter. 

The  siege  continued  long,  with  various  success.  At 
length  both  hosts  agreed  that  the  brothers  should  de- 
cide their  quarrel  by  single  combat.  They  fought  and 
fell  by  each  other's  hands.  The  armies  then  renewed 
the  fight,  and  at  last  the  invaders  were  forced  to  yield, 
and  fled,  leaving  their  dead  unburied.  Creon,  the  uncle 
of  the  fallen  princes,  now  become  king,  caused  Eteocles 
to  be  buried  with  distinguished  honor,  but  suffered  the 
body  of  Polynices  to  lie  where  it  fell,  forbidding  every 
one  on  pain  of  death  to  give  it  burial. 

Antigone,  the  sister  of  Polynices,  heard  with  indigna- 
tion the  revolting  edict  which  consigned  her  brother's 
body  to  the  dogs  and  vultures,  depriving  it  of  those 
rites  which  were  considered  essential  to  the  repose  of 
the  dead.  Unmoved  by  the  dissuading  counsel  of  an 
affectionate  but  timid  sister,  and  unable  to  procure  as- 
sistance, she  determined  to  brave  the  hazard,  and  to 
bury  the  body  with  her  own  hands.  She  was  detected 
in  the  act,  and  Creon  gave  orders  that  she  should  be 
buried  alive,  as  having  deliberately  set  at  naught  the 
solemn  edict  of  the  city.  Her  lover,  Haemon,  the  son 
of  Creon,  unable  to  avert  her  fate,  would  not  survive 
her,  and  fell  by  his  own  hand. 


184        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Antigone  forms  the  subject  of  two  fine  tragedies  of 
the  Grecian  poet  Sophocles.  Mrs.  Jameson,  in  her 
"Characteristics  of  Women,"  has  compared  her  char- 
acter with  that  of  Cordelia,  in  Shakspeare's  "King 
Lear."  The  perusal  of  her  remarks  cannot  fail  to 
gratify  our  readers. 

The  following  is  the  lamentation  of  Antigone  over 
CEdipus,  when  death  has  at  last  relieved  him  from  his 
sufferings : 

"Alas !  I  only  wished  I  might  have  died 
With  my  poor  father;  wherefore  should  I  ask 
For  longer  life? 

O,  I  was  fond  of  misery  with  him ; 
E'en  what  was  most  unlovely  grew  beloved 
When  he  was  with  me.    O  my  dearest  father, 
Beneath  the  earth  now  in  deep  darkness  hid, 
Worn  as  thou  wert  with  age,  to  me  thou  still 
Wast  dear,  and  shalt  be  ever." 

— Francklin's  Sophocles. 

PENELOPE 

Penelope  is  another  of  those  mythic  heroines  whose 
beauties  were  rather  those  of  character  and  conduct 
than  of  person.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Icarius,  a 
Spartan  prince.  Ulysses,  king  of  Ithaca,  sought  her 
in  marriage,  and  won  her,  over  all  competitors.  When 
the  moment  came  for  the  bride  to  leave  her  father's 
house,  Icarius,  unable  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  parting 
with  his  daughter,  tried  to  persuade  her  to  remain  with 
him,  and  not  accompany  her  husband  to  Ithaca.  Ulysses 
gave  Penelope  her  choice,  to  stay  or  go  with  him. 
Penelope  made  no  reply,  but  dropped  her  veil  over  her 
face.  Icarius  urged  her  no  further,  but  when  she  was 
gone  erected  a  statue  to  Modesty  on  the  spot  where  they 
parted. 

Ulysses  and  Penelope  had  not  enjoyed  their  union 
more  than  a  year  when  it  was  interrupted  by  the  events 
which  called  Ulysses  to  the  Trojan  war.  During  his 
long  absence,  and  when  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  still 
lived,  and  highly  improbable  that  he  would  ever  return, 
Penelope  was  importuned  by  numerous  suitors,  from 
whom  there  seemed  no  refuge  but  in  choosing  one  of 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE  185 

them  for  her  husband.  Penelope,  however,  employed 
every  art  to  gain  time,  still  hoping  for  Ulysses'  return. 
One  of  her  arts  of  delay  was  engaging  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  a  robe  for  the  funeral  canopy  of  Laertes,  her 
husband's  father.  She  pledged  herself  to  make  her 
choice  among  the  suitors  when  the  robe  was  finished. 
During  the  day  she  worked  at  the  robe,  but  in  the  night 
she  undid  the  work  of  the  day.  This  is  the  famous 
Penelope's  web,  which  is  used  as  a  proverbial  expres- 
sion for  anything  which  is  perpetually  doing  but  never 
done.  The  rest  of  Penelope's  history  will  be  told  when 
we  give  an  account  of  her  husband's  adventures. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

ORPHEUS     AND     EURYDICE — ARIST^EUS — AMPHION — LINUS 
THAMYRIS — MARSYAS — MELAMPUS MUS^US 

ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE 

ORPHEUS  was  the  son  of  Apollo  and  the  Muse  Cal- 
liope. He  was  presented  by  his  father  with  a  Lyre 
and  taught  to  play  upon  it,  which  he  did  to  such  per- 
fection that  nothing  could  withstand  the  charm  of  his 
music.  Not  only  his  fellow-mortals  but  wild  beasts  were 
softened  by  his  strains,  and  gathering  round  him  laid 
by  their  fierceness,  and  stood  entranced  with  his  lay.  Nay, 
the  very  trees  and  rocks  were  sensible  to  the  charm. 
The  former  crowded  round  him  and  the  latter  relaxed 
somewhat  of  their  hardness,  softened  by  his  notes. 

Hymen  had  been  called  to  bless  with  his  presence 
the  nuptials  of  Orpheus  with  Eurydice;  but  though  he 
attended,  he  brought  no  happy  omens  with  him.  His 
very  torch  smoked  and  brought  tears  into  their  eyes. 
In  coincidence  with  such  prognostics,  Eurydice,  shortly 
after  her  marriage,  while  wandering  with  the  nymphs, 
her  companions,  was  seen  by  the  shepherd  Aristseus, 
who  was  struck  with  her  beauty  and  made  advances  to 


186        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

her.  She  fled,  and  in  flying  trod  upon  a  snake  in  the 
grass,  was  bitten  in  the  foot,  and  died.  Orpheus  sang 
his  grief  to  all  who  breathed  the  upper  air,  both  gods 
and  men,  and  finding  it  all  unavailing  resolved  to  seek 
his  wife  in  the  regions  of  the  dead.  He  descended  by 
a  cave  situated  on  the  side  of  the  promontory  of  Tsenarus 
and  arrived  at  the  Stygian  realm.  He  passed  through 
crowds  of  ghosts  and  presented  himself  before  the 
throne  of  Pluto  and  Proserpine.  Accompanying  the 
words  with  the  lyre,  he  sung,  "O  deities  of  the  under- 
world, to  whom  all  we  who  live  must  come,  hear  my 
words,  for  they  are  true.  I  come  not  to  spy  out  the 
secrets  of  Tartarus,  nor  to  try  my  strength  against  the 
three-headed  dog  with  snaky  hair  who  guards  the  en- 
trance. I  come  to  seek  my  wife,  whose  opening  years 
the  poisonous  viper's  fang  has  brought  to  an  untimely 
end.  Love  has  led  me  here,  Love,  a  god  all  power- 
ful with  us  who  dwell  on  the  earth,  and,  if  old  tradi- 
tions say  true,  not  less  so  here.  I  implore  you  by  these 
abodes  full  of  terror,  these  realms  of  silence  and  un- 
created things,  unite  again  the  thread  of  Eurydice's  life. 
We  all  are  destined  to  you,  and  sooner  or  later  must 
pass  to  your  domain.  She  too,  when  she  shall  have 
filled  her  term  of  life,  will  rightly  be  yours.  But  till 
then  grant  her  to  me,  I  beseech  you.  If  you  deny  me  I 
cannot  return  alone;  you  shall  triumph  in  the  death  of 
us  both." 

As  he  sang  these  tender  strains,  the  very  ghosts  shed 
tears.  Tantalus,  in  spite  of  his  thirst,  stopped  for  a 
moment  his  efforts  for  water,  Ixion's  wheel  stood  still, 
the  vulture  ceased  to  tear  the  giant's  liver,  the  daughters 
of  Danaiis  rested  from  their  task  of  drawing  water  in 
a  sieve,  and  Sisyphus  sat  on  his  rock  to  listen.  Then 
for  the  first  time,  it  is  said,  the  cheeks  of  the  Furies 
were  wet  with  tears.  Proserpine  could  not  resist,  and 
Pluto  himself  gave  way.  Eurydice  was  called.  She 
came  from  among  the  new-arrived  ghosts,  limping  with 
her  wounded  foot.  Orpheus  was  permitted  to  take  her 
away  with  him  on  one  condition,  that  he  should  not 
furn  around  to  look  at  her  till  they  should  have  reached 
the  upper  air.  Under  this  condition  they  proceeded  on 


ORPHEUS  AND  EURYDICE  187 

their  way,  he  leading,  she  following,  through  passages 
dark  and  steep,  in  total  silence,  till  they  had  nearly 
reached  the  outlet  into  the  cheerful  upper  world,  when 
Orpheus,  in  a  moment  of  forgetfulness,  to  assure  him- 
self that  she  was  still  following,  cast  a  glance  behind 
him,  when  instantly  she  was  borne  away.  Stretching 
out  their  arms  to  embrace  each  other,  they  grasped  only 
the  air!  Dying  now  a  second  time,  she  yet  cannot  re- 
proach her  husband,  for  how  can  she  blame  his  impa- 
tience to  behold  her?  "Farewell,"  she  said,  "a  last  fare- 
well,"— and  was  hurried  away,  so  fast  that  the  sound 
hardly  reached  his  ears. 

Orpheus  endeavored  to  follow  her,  and  besought  per- 
mission to  return  and  try  once  more  for  her  release; 
but  the  stern  ferryman  repulsed  him  and  refused  pas- 
sage. Seven  days  he  lingered  about  the  brink,  without 
food  or  sleep ;  then  bitterly  accusing  of  cruelty  the 
powers  of  Erebus,  he  sang  his  complaints  to  the  rocks 
and  mountains,  melting  the  hearts  of  tigers  and  moving 
the  oaks  from  their  stations.  He  held  himself  aloof 
from  womankind,  dwelling  constantly  on  the  recollection 
of  his  sad  mischance.  The  Thracian  maidens  tried  their 
best  to  captivate  him,  but  he  repulsed  their  advances. 
They  bore  with  him  as  long  as  they  could;  but  finding 
him  insensible  one  day,  excited  by  the  rites  of  Bacchus, 
one  of  them  exclaimed,  "See  yonder  our  despiser!"  and 
threw  at  him  her  javelin.  The  weapon,  as  soon  as  it 
came  within  the  sound  of  his  lyre,  fell  harmless  at  his 
feet.  So  did  also  the  stones  that  they  threw  at  him.  But 
the  women  raised  a  scream  and  drowned  the  voice  of  the 
music,  and  then  the  missiles  reached  him  and  soon  were 
stained  with  his  blood.  The  maniacs  tore  him  limb  from 
limb,  and  threw  his  head  and  his  lyre  into  the  river 
Hebrus,  down  which  they  floated,  murmuring  sad  music, 
to  which  the  shores  responded  a  plaintive  symphony. 
The  Muses  gathered  up  the  fragments  of  his  body  and 
buried  them  at  Libethra,  where  the  nightingale  is  said 
to  sing  over  his  grave  more  sweetly  than  in  any  other 
part  of  Greece.  His  lyre  was  placed  by  Jupiter  among 
the  stars.  His  shade  passed  a  second  time  to  Tartarus, 
where  he  sought  out  his  Eurydice  and  embraced  her 


188        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

with  eager  arms.  They  roam  the  happy  fields  together 
now,  sometimes  he  leading,  sometimes  she;  and  Orpheus 
gazes  as  much  as  he  will  upon  her,  no  longer  incurring 
a  penalty  for  a  thoughtless  glance. 

The  story  of  Orpheus  has  furnished  Pope  with  an 
illustration  of  the  power  of  music,  for  his  "Ode  for  St. 
Cecilia's  Day."  The  following  stanza  relates  the  con- 
clusion of  the  story : 

"But  soon,  too  soon  the  lover  turns  his  eyes; 
Again  she  falls,  again  she  dies,  she  dies! 
How  wilt  thou  now  the  fatal  sisters  move? 
No  crime  was  thine,  if  't  is  no  crime  to  love. 
Now  under  hanging  mountains, 
Beside  the   falls  of   fountains, 
Or  where  Hebrus  wanders, 
Rolling  in  meanders, 
All  alone, 

He  makes  his  moan, 
And  calls  her  ghost, 
Forever,  ever,  ever  lost! 
Now  with   furies  surrounded, 
Despairing,  confounded, 
He  trembles,  he  glows, 
Amidst  Rhodope's  snows. 

See,  wild  as  the  winds  o'er  the  desert  he  flies; 
Hark!  Haemus  resounds  with  the  Bacchanals'  cries; 

Ah,    see,   he   dies! 

Yet  even  in  death  Eurydice  he  sung, 
Eurydice  still  trembled  on  his  tongue: 
Eurydice  the  woods 
Eurydice  the  floods 
Eurydice  the  rocks  and  hollow  mountains  rung." 

The  superior  melody  of  the  nightingale's  song  over 
the  grave  of  Orpheus  is  alluded  to  by  Southey  in  his 
"Thalaba" : 

"Then  on  his  ear  what  sounds 

Of  harmony  arose! 

Far  music  and  the  distance-mellowed  song 
From  bowers  of  merriment; 

The  waterfall  remote; 
The  murmuring  of  the  leafy  groves; 

The  single  nightingale 
Perched  in  the  rosier  by,  so  richly  toned, 
That  never  from  that  most  melodious  bird 


ARIST^US,  THE  BEE-KEEPER  189 

Singing  a  love  song  to  his  brooding  mate, 

Did  Thracian  shepherd  by  the  grave 

Of  Orpheus  hear  a  sweeter  melody, 
Though  there  the  spirit  of  the  sepulchre 

All  his  own  power  infuse,  to  swell 

The  incense  that  he  loves." 


ARIST^US,    THE   BEE-KEEPER 

Man  avails  himself  of  the  instincts  of  the  inferior 
animals  for  his  own  advantage.  Hence  sprang  the  art 
of  keeping  bees.  Honey  must  first  have  been  known  as 
a  wild  product,  the  bees  building  their  structures  in  hol- 
low trees  or  holes  in  the  rocks,  or  any  similar  cavity  that 
chance  offered.  Thus  occasionally  the  carcass  of  a  dead 
animal  would  be  occupied  by  the  bees  for  that  purpose. 
It  was  no  doubt  from  some  such  incident  that  the  super- 
stition arose  that  the  bees  were  engendered  by  the  de- 
caying flesh  of  the  animal ;  and  Virgil,  in  the  following 
story,  shows  how  this  supposed  fact  may  be  turned  to 
account  for  renewing  the  swarm  when  it  has  been  lost 
by  disease  or  accident: 

Aristseus,  who  first  taught  the  management  of  bees, 
was  the  son  of  the  water-nymph  Cyrene.  His  bees  had 
perished,  and  he  resorted  for  aid  to  his  mother.  He 
stood  at  the  river  side  and  thus  addressed  her:  "O 
mother,  the  pride  of  my  life  is  taken  from  me !  I  have 
lost  my  precious  bees.  My  care  and  skill  have  availed  me 
nothing,  and  you  my  mother  have  not  warded  off  from 
me  the  blow  of  misfortune."  His  mother  heard  these 
complaints  as  she  sat  in  her  palace  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  with  her  attendant  nymphs  around  her.  They 
were  engaged  in  female  occupations,  spinning  and  weav- 
ing, while  one  told  stories  to  amuse  the  rest.  The  sad 
voice  of  Aristaeus  interrupting  their  occupation,  one  of 
them  put  her  head  above  the  water  and  seeing  him,  re- 
turned and  gave  information  to  his  mother,  who  ordered 
that  he  should  be  brought  into  her  presence.  The  river 
at  her  command  opened  itself  and  let  him  pass  in,  while 
it  stood  curled  like  a  mountain  on  either  side.  He  de- 
scended to  the  region  where  the  fountains  of  the  great 
rivers  lie;  he  saw  the  enormous  receptacles  of  waters 


190        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  was  almost  deafened  with  the  roar,  while  he  sur- 
veyed them  hurrying  off  in  various  directions  to  water 
the  face  of  the  earth.  Arriving  at  his  mother's  apart- 
ment, he  was  hospitably  received  by  Cyrene  and  her 
nymphs,  who  spread  their  table  with  the  richest  dainties. 
They  first  poured  out  libations  to  Neptune,  then  regaled 
themselves  with  the  feast,  and  after  that  Cyrene  thus 
addressed  him :  "There  is  an  old  prophet  named  Proteus, 
who  dwells  in  the  sea  and  is  a  favorite  of  Neptune, 
whose  herd  of  sea-calves  he  pastures.  We  nymphs  hold 
him  in  great  respect,  for  he  is  a  learned  sage  and  knows 
all  things,  past,  present,  and  to  come.  He  can  tell  you, 
my  son,  the  cause  of  the  mortality  among  your  bees, 
and  how  you  may  remedy  it.  But  he  will  not  do  it  vol- 
untarily, however  you  may  entreat  him.  You  must  com- 
pel him  by  force.  If  you  seize  him  and  chain  him,  he 
will  answer  your  questions  in  order  to  get  released,  for 
he  cannot  by  all  his  arts  get  away  if  you  hold  fast  the 
chains.  I  will  carry  you  to  his  cave,  where  he  comes 
at  noon  to  take  his  midday  repose.  Then  you  may 
easily  secure  him.  But  when  he  finds  himself  captured, 
his  resort  is  to  a  power  he  possesses  of  changing  himself 
into  various  forms.  He  will  become  a  wild  boar  or  a 
fierce  tiger,  a  scaly  dragon  or  lion  with  yellow  mane.  Or 
he  will  make  a  noise  like  the  crackling  of  flames  or  the 
rush  of  water,  so  as  to  tempt  you  to  let  go  the  chain, 
when  he  will  make  his  escape.  But  you  have  only  to 
keep  him  fast  bound,  and  at  last  when  he  finds  all  his 
arts  unavailing,  he  will  return  to  his  own  figure  and 
obey  your  commands."  So  saying  she  sprinkled  her  son 
with  fragrant  nectar,  the  beverage  of  the  gods,  and  im- 
mediately an  unusual  vigor  filled  his  frame,  and  courage 
his  heart,  while  perfume  breathed  all  around  him. 

The  nymph  led  her  son  to  the  prophet's  cave  and  con- 
cealed him  among  the  recesses  of  the  rocks,  while  she 
herself  took  her  place  behind  the  clouds.  When  noon 
came  and  the  hour  when  men  and  herds  retreat  from 
the  glaring  sun  to  indulge  in  quiet  slumber,  Proteus 
issued  from  the  water,  followed  by  his  herd  of  sea-calves 
which  spread  themselves  along  the  shore.  He  sat  on 
the  rock  and  counted  his  herd ;  then  stretched  himself  on 


ARISTVEUS,  THE  BEE-KEEPER  191 

the  floor  of  the  cave  and  went  to  sleep.  Aristseus  hardly 
allowed  him  to  get  fairly  asleep  before  he  fixed  the  fet- 
ters on  him  and  shouted  aloud.  Proteus,  waking  and 
finding  himself  captured,  immediately  resorted  to  his 
arts,  becoming  first  a  fire,  then  a  flood,  then  a  horrible 
wild  beast,  in  rapid  succession.  But  finding  all  would 
not  do,  he  at  last  resumed  his  own  form  and  addressed 
the  youth  in  angry  accents :  "Who  are  you,  bold  youth, 
who  thus  invade  my  abode,  and  what  do  yor  want  of 
me?"  Aristseus  replied,  "Proteus,  you  know  already, 
for  it  is  needless  for  any  one  to  attempt  to  deceive  you. 
And  do  you  also  cease  your  efforts  to  elude  me.  I  am 
led  hither  by  divine  assistance,  to  know  from  you  the 
cause  of  my  misfortune  and  how  to  remedy  it."  At 
these  words  the  prophet,  fixing  on  him  his  gray  eyes 
with  a  piercing  look,  thus  spoke:  "You  receive  the 
merited  reward  of  your  deeds,  by  which  Eurydice  met 
her  death,  for  in  flying  from  you  she  trod  upon  a  serpent, 
of  whose  bite  she  died.  To  avenge  her  death,  the 
nymphs,  her  companions,  have  sent  this  destruction  to 
your  bees.  You  liave  to  appease  their  anger,  and  thus 
it  must  be  done :  Select  four  bulls,  of  perfect  form  and 
size,  and  four  cows  of  equal  beauty,  build  four  altars  to 
the  nymphs,  and  sacrifice  the  animals,  leaving  their  car- 
casses in  the  leafy  grove.  To  Orpheus  and  Eurydice 
you  shall  pay  such  funeral  honors  as  may  allay  their  re- 
sentment. Returning  after  nine  days,  you  will  examine 
the  bodies  of  the  cattle  slain  and  see  what  will  befall." 
Aristaeus  faithfully  obeyed  these  directions.  He  sacri- 
ficed the  cattle,  he  left  their  bodies  in  the  grove,  he 
offered  funeral  honors  to  the  shades  of  Orpheus  and 
Eurydice;  then  returning  on  the  ninth  day  he  examined 
the  bodies  of  the  animals,  and,  wonderful  to  relate!  a 
swarm  of  bees  had  taken  possession  of  one  of  the  car- 
casses and  were  pursuing  their  labors  there  as  in  a  hive. 

In  "The  Task,"  Cowper  alludes  to  the  story  of 
Aristaeus,  when  speaking  of  the  ice-palace  built  by  the 
Empress  Anne  of  Russia.  He  has  been  describing  the 
fantastic  forms  which  ice  assumes  in  connection  with 
waterfalls,  etc.: 


192        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

"Less  worthy  of  applause  though  more  admired 
Because  a  novelty,  the  work  of  man, 
Imperial  mistress  of  the  fur-clad  Russ, 
Thy  most  magnificent  and  mighty  freak, 
The  wonder  of  the  north.    No  forest  fell 
When  thou  wouldst  build,  no  quarry  sent  its  stores 
T'  enrich  thy  walls;  but  thou  didst  hew  the  floods 
And  make  thy  marble  of  the  glassy  wave. 
In  such  a  palace  Aristseus  found 
Cyrene,  when  he  bore  the  plaintive  tale 
Of  his  lost  bees  to  her  maternal  ear." 


Milton  also  appears  to  have  had  Cyrene  and  her 
domestic  scene  in  his  mind  when  he  describes  to  us 
Sabrina,  the  nymph  of  the  river  Severn,  in  the  Guard- 
ian-spirit's Song  in  "Comus" : 

"Sabrina  fair! 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair; 
Listen  for  dear  honor's  sake, 
Goddess  of  the  silver  lake! 
Listen  and  save." 

The  following  are  other  celebrated  mythical  poets 
and  musicians,  some  of  whom  were  hardly  inferior  to 
Orpheus  himself : 

AMPHION 

Amphion  was  the  son  of  Jupiter  and  Antiope,  queen 
of  Thebes.  With  his  twin  brother  Zethus  he  was  ex- 
posed at  birth  on  Mount  Cithseron,  where  they  grew  up 
among  the  shepherds,  not  knowing  their  parentage. 
Mercury  gave  Amphion  a  lyre  and  taught  him  to  play 
upon  it,  and  his  brother  occupied  himself  in  hunting  and 
tending  the  flocks.  Meanwhile  Antiope,  their  mother, 
who  had  been  treated  with  great  cruelty  by  Lycus,  the 
usurping  king  of  Thebes,  and  by  Dirce,  his  wife,  found 
means  to  inform  her  children  of  their  rights  and  to 
summon  them  to  her  assistance.  With  a  band  of  their 
fellow-herdsmen  they  attacked  and  slew  Lycus,  and  tying 
Dirce  by  the  hair  of  her  head  to  a  bull,  let  him  drag  her 


MELAMPUS  193 

till  she  was  dead.  Amphion,  having  become  king  of 
Thebes,  fortified  the  city  with  a  wall.  It  is  said  that 
when  he  played  on  his  lyre  the  stones  moved  of  their 
own  accord  and  took  their  places  in  the  wall. 

See  Tennyson's  poem  of  "Amphion"  for  an  amusing 
use  made  of  this  story. 

LINUS 

Linus  was  the  instructor  of  Hercules  in  music,  but 
having  one  day  reproved  his  pupil  rather  harshly,  he 
roused  the  anger  of  Hercules,  who  struck  him  with  his 
lyre  and  killed  him. 

THAMYRIS 

An  ancient  Thracian  bard,  who  in  his  presumption 
challenged  the  Muses  to  a  trial  of  skill,  and  being  over- 
come in  the  contest,  was  deprived  by  them  of  his  sight. 
Milton  alludes  to  him  with  other  blind  bards,  when 
speaking  of  his  own  blindness,  "Paradise  Lost,"  Book 
III.,  35. 

MARSYAS 

Minerva  invented  the  flute,  and  played  upon  it  to  the 
delight  of  all  the  celestial  auditors;  but  the  mischievous 
urchin  Cupid  having  dared  to  laugh  at  the  queer  face 
which  the  goddess  made  while  playing,  Minerva  threw 
the  instrument  indignantly  away,  and  it  fell  down  to 
earth,  and  was  found  by  Marsyas.  He  blew  upon 
it,  and  drew  from  it  such  ravishing  sounds  that  he 
was  tempted  to  challenge  Apollo  himself  to  a  musical 
contest.  The  god  of  course  triumphed,  and  punished 
Marsyas  by  flaying  him  alive. 

MELAMPUS 

Melampus  was  the  first  mortal  endowed  with  pro- 
phetic powers.  Before  his  house  there  stood  an  oak 
tree  containing  a  serpent's  nest.  The  old  serpents  were 
killed  by  the  servants,  but  Melampus  took  care  of  the 
young  ones  and  fed  them  carefully.  One  day  when  he 
was  asleep  under  the  oak  the  serpents  licked  his  ears 


194        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

with  their  tongues.  On  awaking  he  was  astonished  to 
find  that  he  now  understood  the  language  of  birds  and 
creeping  things.  This  knowledge  enabled  him  to  fore- 
tell future  events,  and  he  became  a  renowned  soothsayer. 
At  one  time  his  enemies  took  him  captive  and  kept  him 
strictly  imprisoned.  Melampus  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
heard  the  woodworms  in  the  timbers  talking  together, 
and  found  out  by  what  they  said  that  the  timbers  were 
nearly  eaten  through  and  the  roof  would  soon  fall  in. 
He  told  his  captors  and  demanded  to  be  let  out,  warn- 
ing them  also.  They  took  his  warning,  and  thus  escaped 
destruction,  and  rewarded  Melampus  and  held  him  in 
high  honor. 

MUS^EUS 

A  semi-mythological  personage  who  was  represented 
by  one  tradition  to  be  the  son  of  Orpheus.  He  is  said 
to  have  written  sacred  poems  and  oracles.  Milton 
couples  his  name  with  that  of  Orpheus  in  his  "II 
Penseroso" : 

"But  O,  sad  virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musaeus  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ARION IBYCUS — SIMONIDES — SAPPHO 

THE  poets  whose  adventures  compose  this  chapter 
were  real  persons  some  of  whose  works  yet  remain, 
and  their  influence  on  poets  who  succeeded  them  is  yet 
more  important  than  their  poetical  remains.  The  adven- 
tures recorded  of  them  in  the  following  stories  rest  on 
the  same  authority  as  other  narratives  of  the  "Age  of 
Fable,"  that  is,  of  the  poets  who  have  told  them.  In 
their  present  form,  the  first  two  are  translated  from 


ARION  195 

the   German,  Arion   from   Schlegel,   and   Ibycus   from 
Schiller. 

ARION 

Arion  was  a  famous  musician,  and  dwelt  in  the  court 
of  Periander,  king  of  Corinth,  with  whom  he  was  a 
great  favorite.  There  was  to  be  a  musical  contest  in 
Sicily,  and  Arion  longed  to  compete  for  the  prize. 
He  told  his  wish  to  Periander,  who  besought  him  like 
a  brother  to  give  up  the  thought.  "Pray  stay  with 
me,"  he  said,  "and  be  contented.  He  who  strives  to 
win  may  lose."  Arion  answered,  "A  wandering  life 
best  suits  the  free  heart  of  a  poet.  The  talent  which 
a  god  bestowed  on  me,  I  would  fain  make  a  source  of 
pleasure  to  others.  And  if  I  win  the  prize,  how  will 
the  enjoyment  of  it  be  increased  by  the  consciousness 
of  my  widespread  fame !"  He  went,  won  the  prize,  and 
embarked  with  his  wealth  in  a  Corinthian  ship  for  home. 
On  the  second  morning  after  setting  sail,  the  wind 
breathed  mild  and  fair.  "O  Periander,"  he  exclaimed, 
"dismiss  your  fears !  Soon  shall  you  forget  them  in  my 
embrace.  With  what  lavish  offerings  will  we  display 
our  gratitude  to  the  gods,  and  how  merry  will  we  be  at 
the  festal  board!"  The  wind  and  sea  continued  propi- 
tious. Not  a  cloud  dimmed  the  firmament.  He  had 
not  trusted  too  much  to  the  ocean — but  he  had  to  man. 
He  overheard  the  seamen  exchanging  hints  with  one 
another,  and  found  they  were  plotting  to  possess  them- 
selves of  his  treasure.  Presently  they  surrounded  him 
loud  and  mutinous,  and  said,  "Arion,  you  must  die!  If 
you  would  have  a  grave  on  shore,  yield  yourself  to  die 
on  this  spot;  but  if  otherwise,  cast  yourself  into  the 
sea."  "Will  nothing  satisfy  you  but  my  life?"  said 
he.  "Take  my  gold,  and  welcome.  I  willingly  buy 
my  life  at  lhat  price."  "No,  no;  we  cannot  spare  you. 
Your  life  would  be  too  dangerous  to  us.  Where  could 
we  go  to  escape  from  Periander,  if  he  should  know  that 
you  had  been  robbed  by  us?  Your  gold  would  b'e  of 
little  use  to  us,  if  on  returning  home,  we  could  never 
more  be  free  from  fear."  "Grant  me,  then,"  said  he,  "a 
last  request,  since  nought  will  avail  to  save  my  life,  that  I 


196        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

may  die,  as  I  have  lived,  as  becomes  a  bard.  When  I 
shall  have  sung  my  death  song,  and  my  harp-strings 
shall  have  ceased  to  vibrate,  then  1  will  bid  farewell  to 
life,  and  yield  uncomplaining  to  my  fate."  This  prayer, 
like  the  others,  would  have  been  unheeded, — they 
thought  only  of  their  booty, — but  to  hear  so  famous  a 
musician,  that  moved  their  rude  hearts.  "Suffer  me/* 
he  added,  "to  arrange  my  dress.  Apollo  will  not  favor 
me  unless  I  be  clad  in  my  minstrel  garb/' 

He  clothed  his  well-proportioned  limbs  in  gold  and 
purple  fair  to  see,  his  tunic  fell  around  him  in  graceful 
folds,  jewels  adorned  his  arms,  his  brow  was  crowned 
with  a  golden  wreath,  and  over  his  neck  and  shoulders 
flowed  his  hair  perfumed  with  odors.  His  left  hand 
held  the  lyre,  his  right  the  ivory  wand  with  which  he 
struck  its  chords.  Like  one  inspired,  he  seemed  to 
drink  the  morning  air  and  glitter  in  the  morning  ray. 
The  seamen  gazed  with  admiration.  He  strode  forward 
to  the  vessel's  side  and  looked  down  into  the  deep  blue 
sea.  Addressing  his  lyre,  he  sang,  "Companion  of  my 
voice,  come  with  me  to  the  realm  of  shades.  Though 
Cerberus  may  growl,  we  know  the  power  of  song  can 
tame  his  rage.  Ye  heroes  of  Elysium,  who  have  passed 
the  darkling  flood, — ye  happy  souls,  soon  shall  I  join 
your  band.  Yet  can  ye  relieve  my  grief  ?  Alas,  I  leave 
my  friend  behind  me.  Thou,  who  didst  find  thy  Euryd- 
ice,  and  lose  her  again  as  soon  as  found;  when  she  had 
vanished  like  a  dream,  how  didst  thou  hate  the  cheerful 
light !  I  must  away,  but  I  will  not  fear.  The  gods  look 
down  upon  us.  Ye  who  slay  me  unoffending,  when  I 
am  no  more,  your  time  of  trembling  shall  come.  Ye 
Nereids,  receive  your  guest,  who  throws  himself  upon 
your  mercy !"  So  saying,  he  sprang  into  the  deep  sea. 
The  waves  covered  him,  and  the  seamen  held  on  their 
way,  fancying  themselves  safe  from  all  danger  of  de- 
tection. 

But  the  strains  of  his  music  had  drawn  round  him 
the  inhabitants  of  the  deep  to  listen,  and  Dolphins  fol- 
lowed the  ship  as  if  chained  by  a  spell.  While  he 
struggled  in  the  waves,  a  Dolphin  offered  him  his  back, 
and  carried  him  mounted  thereon  safe  to  shore.  At  the 


ARION  197 

spot  where  he  landed,  a  monument  of  brass  was  after- 
wards erected  upon  the  rocky  shore,  to  preserve  the 
memory  of  the  event. 

When  Arion  and  the  dolphin  parted,  each  to  his  own 
element,  Arion  thus  poured  forth  his  thanks :  "Farewell, 
thou  faithful,  friendly  fish !  Would  that  I  could  reward 
thee ;  but  thou  canst  not  wend  with  me,  nor  I  with  thee. 
Companionship  we  may  not  have.  May  Galatea,  queen 
of  the  deep,  accord  thee  her  favor,  and  thou,  proud  of 
the  burden,  dra\v  her  chariot  over  .he  smooth  mirror  of 
the  deep/' 

Arion  hastened  from  the  shore,  and  soon  saw  before 
him  the  towers  of  Corinth.  He  journeyed  on,  harp  in 
hand,  singing  as  he  went,  full  of  love  and  happiness, 
forgetting  his  losses,  and  mindful  only  of  what  re- 
mained, his  friend  and  his  lyre.  He  entered  the  hos- 
pitable halls,  and  was  soon  clasped  in  the  embrace  of 
Periander.  "I  come  back  to  thee,  my  friend,"  he  said. 
"The  talent  which  a  god  bestowed  has  been  the  delight 
of  thousands,  but  false  knaves  have  stripped  me  of  my 
well-earned  treasure;  yet  I  retain  the  consciousness  of 
wide  spread  fame."  Then  he  told  Periander  all  the  won- 
derful events  that  had  befallen  him,  who  heard  him 
with  amazement.  "Shall  such  wickedness  triumph  ?"  said 
he.  "Then  in  vain  is  power  lodged  in  my  hands.  That 
we  may  discover  the  criminals,  you  must  remain  here 
in  concealment,  and  so  they  will  approach  without  sus- 
picion." When  the  ship  arrived  in  the  harbor,  he  sum- 
moned the  mariners  before  him.  "Have  you  heard 
anything  of  Arion  ?"  he  inquired.  "I  anxiously  look  for 
his  return."  They  replied,  "We  left  him  well  and  pros- 
perous in  Tarentum."  As  they  said  these  words,  Arion 
stepped  forth  and  faced  them.  His  well-proportioned 
limbs  were  arrayed  in  gold  and  purple  fair  to  see,  his 
tunic  fell  around  him  in  graceful  folds,  jewels  adorned 
his  arms,  his  brow  was  crowned  with  a  golden  wreath, 
and  over  his  neck  and  shoulders  flowed  his  hair  per- 
fumed with  odors ;  his  left  hand  held  the  lyre,  his  right 
the  ivory  wand  with  which  he  struck  its  chords.  They 
fell  prostrate  at  his  feet,  as  if  a  lightning  bolt  had  struck 
them.  "We  meant  to  murder  him,  and  he  has  become 


198        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

a  god.  O  Earth,  open  and  receive  us !"  Then  Periander 
spoke.  "He  lives,  the  master  of  the  lay!  Kind  Heaven 
protects  the  poet's  life.  As  for  you,  I  invoke  not  the 
spirit  of  vengeance;  Arion  wishes  not  your  blood.  Ye 
slaves  of  avarice,  begone!  Seek  some  barbarous  land, 
and  never  may  aught  beautiful  delight  your  souls !" 

Spenser  represents  Arion,  mounted  on  his  dolphin, 
accompanying  the  train  of  Neptune  and  Amphitrite: 

"Then  was  there  heard  a  most  celestial  sound 
Of  dainty  music  which  did  next  ensue, 
And,  on  the  floating  waters  as  enthroned, 
Arion  with  his  harp  unto  him  drew 
The  ears  and  hearts  of  all  that  goodly  crew; 
Even  when  as  yet  the  dolphin  which  him  bore 
Through  the  /Egean  Seas  from  pirates'  view, 
Stood  still,  by  him  astonished  at  his  lore, 
And  all  the  raging  seas  for  joy  forgot  to  roar." 

Byron,  in  his  "Childe  Harold,"  Canto  II.,  alludes  to 
the  story  of  Arion,  when,  describing  his  voyage,  he 
represents  one  of  the  seamen  making  music  to  entertain 
the  rest: 

"The  moon  is  up;  by  Heyven  a  lovely  eve! 
Long  streams  of  light  o'er  dancing  waves  expand; 
Now  lads  on  shore  may  sigh  and  maids  believe; 
Such  be  our  fate  when  we  return  to  land ! 
Meantime  some  rude  Arion's  restless  hand 
Wakes  the  brisk  harmony  that  sailors  love; 
A  circle  there  of  merry  listeners  stand, 
Or  to  some  well-known  measure  featly  move 
Thoughtless  as  if  on  shore  they  still  were  free  to  rove." 


IBYCUS 

In  order  to  understand  the  story  of  Ibycus  which 
follows  k  is  necessary  to  remember,  first,  that  the 
theatres  of  the  ancients  were  immense  fabrics  capable 
of  containing  from  ten  to  thirty  thousand  spectators, 
and  as  they  were  used  only  on  festival  occasions,  and 
admission  was  free  to  all,  they  were  usually  filled. 
They  were  without  roofs  and  open  to  the  sky,  and  the 
performances  were  in  the  daytime.  Secondly,  the  ap- 
palling representation  of  the  Furies  is  not  exaggerated 


IBYCUS  199 

in  the  story.  It  is  recorded  that  ^schylus,  the  tragic 
poet,  having  on  one  occasion  represented  the  Furies  in 
a  chorus  of  fifty  performers,  the  terror  of  the  specta- 
tors was  such  that  many  fainted  and  were  thrown  into 
convulsions,  and  the  magistrates  forbade  a  like  repre- 
sentation for  the  future. 

Ibycus,  the  pious  poet,  was  on  his  way  to  the  chariot 
races  and  musical  competitions  held  at  the  Isthmus  of 
Corinth,  which  attracted  all  of  Grecian  lineage.  Apollo 
had  bestowed  on  him  the  gift  of  song,  the  honeyed  lips 
of  the  poet,  and  he  pursued  his  way  with  lightsome  step, 
full  of  the  god.  Already  the  towers  of  Corinth  crown- 
ing the  height  appeared  in  view,  and  he  had  entered 
with  pious  awe  the  sacred  grove  of  Neptune.  No  living 
object  was  in  sight,  only  a  flock  of  cranes  flew  overhead 
taking  the  same  course  as  himself  in  their  migration  to 
a  southern  clime.  "Good  luck  to  you,  ye  friendly  squad- 
rons," he  exclaimed,  "my  companions  from  across  the 
sea.  I  take  your  company  for  a  good  omen.  We  come 
from  far  and  fly  in  search  of  hospitality.  May  both 
of  us  meet  that  kind  reception  which  shields  the  stranger 
guest  from  harm !" 

He  paced  briskly  on,  and  soon  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  wood.  There  suddenly,  at  a  narrow  pass,  two  rob- 
bers stepped  forth  and  barred  his  way.  He  must  yield 
or  fight.  But  his  hand,  accustomed  to  the  lyre,  and 
not  to  the  strife  of  arms,  sank  powerless.  He  called 
for  help  on  men  and  gods,  but  his  cry  reached  no  de- 
fender's ear.  "Then  here  must  I  die,"  said  he,  "in  a 
strange  land,  unlamented,  cut  off  by  the  hand  of  out- 
laws, and  see  none  to  avenge  my  cause."  Sore  wounded, 
he  sank  to  the  earth,  when  hoarse  screamed  the  cranes 
overhead.  "Take  up  my  cause,  ye  cranes,"  he  said,  "since 
no  voice  but  yours  answers  to  my  cry."  So  saying  he 
closed  his  eyes  in  death. 

The  body,  despoiled  and  mangled,  was  found,  and 
though  disfigured  with  wounds,  was  recognized  by  the 
friend  in  Corinth  who  had  expected  him  as  a  guest. 
"Is  it  thus  I  find  you  restored  to  me?"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  who  hoped  to  entwine  your  temples  with  the  wreath 
of  triumph  in  the  strife  of  song!" 


200        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  guests  assembled  at  the  festival  heard  the  tidings 
with  dismay.  All  Greece  felt  the  wound,  every  heart 
owned  its  loss.  They  crowded  round  the  tribunal  of 
the  magistrates,  and  demanded  vengeance  on  the  mur- 
derers and  expiation  with  their  blood. 

But  what  trace  or  mark  shall  point  out  the  perpe- 
trator from  amidst  the  vast  multitude  attracted  by  the 
splendor  of  the  feast?  Did  he  fall  by  the  hands  of 
robbers  or  did  some  private  enemy  slay  him?  The  all- 
discerning  sun  alone  can  tell,  for  no  other  eye  beheld 
it.  Yet  not  improbably  the  murderer  even  now  walks 
in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  enjoys  the  fruits  of  his 
crime,  while  vengeance  seeks  for  him  in  vain.  Perhaps 
in  their  own  temple's  enclosure  he  defies  the  gods, 
mingling  freely  in  this  throng  of  men  that  now  presses 
into  the  amphitheatre. 

For  now  crowded  together,  row  on  row,  the  multi- 
tude fill  the  seats  till  it  seems  as  if  the  very  fabric  would 
give  way.  The  murmur  of  voices  sounds  like  the  roar 
of  the  sea,  while  the  circles  widening  in  their  ascent  rise 
tier  on  tier,  as  if  they  would  reach  the  sky. 

And  now  the  vast  assemblage  listens  to  the  awful 
voice  of  the  chorus  personating  the  Furies,  which  in 
solemn  guise  advances  with  measured  step,  and  moves 
around  the  circuit  of  the  theatre.  Can  they  be  mortal 
women  who  compose  that  awful  group,  and  can  that 
vast  concourse  of  silent  forms  be  living  beings? 

The  choristers,  clad  in  black,  bore  in  their  fleshless 
hands  torches  blazing  with  a  pitchy  flame.  Their  cheeks 
were  bloodless,  and  in  place  of  hair  writhing  and  swell- 
ing serpents  curled  around  their  brows.  Forming  ?, 
circle,  these  awful  beings  sang  their  hymns,  rending  the 
hearts  of  the  guilty,  and  enchaining  all  their  faculties. 
It  rose  and  swelled,  overpowering  the  sound  of  the  in- 
struments, stealing  the  judgment,  palsying  the  heart, 
curdling  the  blood. 

"Happy  the  man  who  keeps  his  heart  pure  from  guilt 
and  crime!  Him  we  avengers  touch  not;  he  treads  the 
path  of  life  secure  from  us.  But  woe!  woe!  to  him 
who  has  done  the  deed  of  secret  murder.  We  the  fear- 
ful family  of  Night  fasten  ourselves  upon  his  whole 


SIMONIDES  201 

being.  Thinks  he  by  flight  to  escape  us?  We  fly  still 
faster  in  pursuit,  twine  our  snakes  around  his  feet,  and 
bring  him  to  the  ground.  Unwearied  we  pursue;  no 
pity  checks  our  course;  still  on  and  on,  to  the  end  of 
life,  we  give  him  no  peace  nor  rest."  Thus  the  Eume- 
nides  sang,  and  moved  in  solemn  cadence,  while  stillness 
like  the  stillness  of  death  sat  over  the  whole  assembly 
as  if  in  the  presence  of  superhuman  beings;  and  then 
in  solemn  march  completing  the  circuit  of  the  theatre, 
they  passed  out  at  the  back  of  the  stage. 

Every  heart  fluttered  between  illusion  and  reality,  and 
every  breast  panted  with  undefined  terror,  quailing  be- 
fore the  awful  power  that  watches  secret  crimes  and 
winds  unseen  the  skein  of  destiny.  At  that  moment  a 
cry  burst  forth  from  one  of  the  uppermost  benches — 
"Look!  look!  comrade,  yonder  are  the  cranes  of 
Ibycus!"  And  suddenly  there  appeared  sailing  across 
the  sky  a  dark  object  which  a  moment's  inspection 
showed  to  be  a  flock  of  cranes  flying  directly  over  the 
theatre.  "Of  Ibycus!  did  he  say?"  The  beloved  name 
revived  the  sorrow  in  every  breast.  As  wave  follows 
wave  over  the  face  of  the  sea,  so  ran  from  mouth 
to  mouth  the  words,  "Of  Ibycus!  him  whom  we  all  la- 
ment, whom  some  murderer's  hand  laid  low!  What 
have  the  cranes  to  do  with  him  ?"  And  louder  grew  the 
swell  of  voices,  while  like  a  lightning's  flash  the  thought 
sped  through  every  heart,  "Observe  the  power  of  the 
Eumenides !  The  pious  poet  shall  be  avenged !  the  mur- 
derer has  informed  against  himself.  Seize  the  man  who 
uttered  that  cry  and  the  other  to  whom  he  spoke!" 

The  culprit  would  gladly  have  recalled  his  words,  but 
it  was  too  late.  The  faces  of  the  murderers,  pale  with 
terror,  betrayed  their  guilt.  The  people  took  them  be- 
fore the  judge,  they  confessed  their  crime,  and  suffered 
the  punishment  they  deserved. 

SIMONIDES 

Simonides  was  one  of  the  most  prolific  of  the  early 
poets  of  Greece,  but  only  a  few  fragments  of  his  com- 
positions have  descended  to  us.  He  wrote  hymns,  tri- 


202        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

umphal  odes,  and  elegies.  In  the  last  species  of  com- 
position he  particularly  excelled.  His  genius  was 
inclined  to  the  pathetic,  and  none  could  touch  with  truer 
effect  the  chords  of  human  sympathy.  The  "Lamenta- 
tion of  Danae,"  the  most  important  of  the  fragments 
which  remain  of  his  poetry,  is  based  upon  the  tradition 
that  Danae  and  her  infant  son  were  confined  by  order 
of  her  father,  Acrisius,  in  a  chest  and  set  adrift  on  the 
sea.  The  chest  floated  towards  the  island  of  Seriphus, 
where  both  were  rescued  by  Dictys,  a  fisherman,  and 
carried  to  Polydectes,  king  of  the  country,  who  received 
and  protected  them.  The  child,  Perseus,  when  grown  up 
became  a  famous  hero,  whose  adventures  have  been  re- 
corded in  a  previous  chapter. 

Simonides  passed  much  of  his  life  at  the  courts  of 
princes,  and  often  employed  his  talents  in  panegyric  and 
festal  odes,  receiving  his  reward  from  the  munificence 
of  those  whose  exploits  he  celebrated.  This  employment 
was  not  derogatory,  but  closely  resembles  that  of  the 
earliest  bards,  such  as  Demodocus,  described  by  Homer, 
or  of  Homer  himself,  as  recorded  by  tradition. 

On  one  occasion,  when  residing  at  the  court  of  Scopas, 
king  of  Thessaly,  the  prince  desired  him  to  prepare  a 
poem  in  celebration  of  his  exploits,  to  be  recited  at  a 
banquet.  In  order  to  diversify  his  theme,  Simonides, 
who  was  celebrated  for  his  piety,  introduced  into  his 
poem  the  exploits  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  Such  digres- 
sions were  not  unusual  with  the  poets  on  similar  oc- 
casions, and  one  might  suppose  an  ordinary  mortal 
might  have  been  content  to  share  the  praises  of  the 
sons  of  Leda.  But  vanity  is  exacting;  and  as  Scopas 
sat  at  his  festal  board  among  his  courtiers  and  syco- 
phants, he  grudged  every  verse  that  did  not  rehearse  his 
own  praises.  When  Simonides  approached  to  receive 
the  promised  reward  Scopas  bestowed  but  half  the  ex- 
pected sum,  saying,  "Here  is  payment  for  my  portion 
of  thy  performance;  Castor  and  Pollux  will  doubtless 
compensate  thee  for  so  much  as  relates  to  them."  The 
disconcerted  poet  returned  to  his  seat  amidst  the  laugh- 
ter which  followed  the  great  man's  jest.  In  a  little 
time  he  received  a  message  that  two  young  men  on 


SAPPHO  203 

horseback  were  waiting  without  and  anxious  to  see  him. 
Simonides  hastened  to  the  door,  but  looked  in  vain  for 
the  visitors.  Scarcely,  however,  had  he  left  the  banquet- 
ing hall  when  the  roof  fell  in  with  a  loud  crash,  bury- 
ing Scopas  and  all  his  guests  beneath  the  ruins.  On 
inquiring  as  to  the  appearance  of  the  young  men  who 
had  sent  for  him,  Simonides  was  satisfied  that  they  were 
no  other  than  Castor  and  Pollux  themselves. 


SAPPHO 

Sappho  was  a  poetess  who  flourished  in  a  very  early 
age  of  Greek  literature.  Of  her  works  few  fragments 
remain,  but  they  are  enough  to  establish  her  claim  to 
eminent  poetical  genius.  The  story  of  Sappho  com- 
monly alluded  to  is  that  she  was  passionately  in  love 
with  a  beautiful  youth  named  Phaon,  and  failing  to 
obtain  a  return  of  affection  she  threw  herself  from  the 
promontory  of  Leucadia  into  the  sea,  under  a  supersti- 
tion that  those  who  should  take  that  "Lover's-leap" 
would,  if  not  destroyed,  be  cured  of  their  love. 

Byron  alludes  to  the  story  of  Sappho  in  "Childe 
Harold,"  Canto  II. : 

"Childe  Harold  sailed  and  passed  the  barren  spot 
Where  sad  Penelope  o'erlooked  the  wave, 
And  onward  viewed  the  mount,  not  yet  forgot, 
The  lover's  refuge  and  the  Lesbian's  grave. 
Dark  Sappho!  could  not  verse  irr mortal  save 
That  breast  imbued  with  such  immortal  fire? 

"'Twas  on  a  Grecian  autumn's  gentle  eve 
Childe  Harold  hailed  Leucadia's  cape  afar;"  etc. 

Those  who  wish  to  know  more  of  Sappho  and  her 
"leap"  are  referred  to  the  "Spectator,"  Nos.  223  and 
229.  See  also  Moore's  "Evenings  in  Greece." 


204        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

ENDYMION ORION AURORA    AND    TITHONUS ACIS    AND 

GALATEA 

DIANA   AND  ENDYMION 

ENDYMION  was  a  beautiful  youth  who  fed  his  flock 
on  Mount  Latmos.  One  calm,  clear  night  Diana,  the 
moon,  looked  down  and  saw  him  sleeping.  The  cold 
heart  of  the  virgin  goddess  was  warmed  by  his  sur- 
passing beauty,  and  she  came  down  to  him,  kissed  him, 
and  watched  over  him  while  he  slept. 

Another  story  was  that  Jupiter  bestowed  on  him  the 
gift  of  perpetual  youth  united  with  perpetual  sleep.  Of 
one  so  gifted  we  can  have  but  few  adventures  to  re- 
cord. Diana,  it  was  said,  took  care  that  his  fortunes 
should  not  suffer  by  his  inactive  life,  for  she  made  his 
flock  increase,  and  guarded  his  sheep  and  lambs  from 
the  wild  beasts. 

The  story  of  Endymion  has  a  peculiar  charm  from 
the  human  meaning  which  it  so  thinly  veils.  We  see 
in  Endymion  the  young  poet,  his  fancy  and  his  heart 
seeking  in  vain  for  that  which  can  satisfy  them,  finding 
his  favorite  hour  ir  the  quiet  moonlight,  and  nursing 
there  beneath  the  beams  of  the  bright  and  silent  wit- 
ness the  melancholy  and  the  ardor  which  consumes  him. 
The  story  suggests  aspiring  and  poetic  love,  a  life  spent 
more  in  dreams  than  in  reality,  and  an  early  and  wel- 
come death. — S.  G.  B. 

The  "Endymion"  of  Keats  is  a  wild  and  fanciful 
poem,  containing  some  exquisite  poetry,  as  this,  to  the 
moon : 

".  .  .  The  sleeping  kine 

Couched  in  thy  brightness  dream  of  fields  divine. 
Innumerable  mountains  rise,  and  rise, 
Ambitious  for  the  hallowing  of  thine  eyes, 


ORION  205 

And  yet  thy  benediction  passeth  not 
One  obscure  hiding-place,  one  little  spot 
Where  pleasure  may  be  sent;  the  nested  wren 
Has  thy  fair  face  within  its  tranquil  ken;"  etc.,  etc. 

Dr.    Young,    in    the    "Night    Thoughts/'    alludes    to 
Endymion  thus: 

".  .  .  These  thoughts,  O  night,  are  thine; 
From  thee  they  came  like  lovers'  secret  sighs, 
While  others  slept.     So  Cynthia,  poets  feign, 
In  shadows  veiled,  soft,  sliding  from  her  sphere, 
Her  shepherd  cheered,  of  her  enamoured  less 
Than  I  of  thee." 

Fletcher,  in  the  "Faithful  Shepherdess,"  tells : 

"How  the  pale  Phoebe,  hunting  in  a  grove, 
First  saw  the  boy  Endymion,  from  whose  eyes 
She  took  eternal  fire  that  never  dies; 
How  she  conveyed  him  softly  in  a  sleep, 
His  temples  bound  with  poppy,  to  the  steep 
Head  of  old  Latmos,  where  she  stoops  each  night, 
Gilding  the  mountain  with  her  brother's  light, 
To  kiss  her  sweetest." 


ORION 

Orion  was  the  son  of  Neptune.  He  was  a  handsome 
giant  and  a  mighty  hunter.  His  father  gave  him  the 
power  of  wading  through  the  depths  of  the  sea,  or,  as 
others  say,  of  walking  on  its  surface. 

Orion  loved  Merope,  the  daughter  of  OEnopion,  king 
of  Chios,  and  sought  her  in  marriage.  He  cleared  the 
island  of  wild  beasts,  and  brought  the  spoils  of  the  chase 
as  presents  to  his  beloved;  but  as  CEnopion  constantly 
deferred  his  consent,  Orion  attempted  to  gain  possession 
of  the  maiden  by  violence.  Her  father,  incensed  at 
this  conduct,  having  made  Orion  drunk,  deprived  him 
of  his  sight  and  cast  him  out  on  the  seashore.  The 
blinded  hero  followed  the  sound  of  a  Cyclops*  hammer 
till  he  reached  Lemnos,  and  came  to  the  forge  of  Vul- 
can, who,  taking  pity  on  him,  gave  him  Kedalion,  one 
of  his  men,  to  be  his  guide  to  the  abode  of  the  sun. 


206        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Placing  Kedalion  on  his  shoulders,  Orion  proceeded  to 
the  east,  and  there  meeting  the  sun-god,  was  restored 
to  sight  by  his  beam. 

After  this  he  dwelt  as  a  hunter  with  Diana,  with 
whom  he  was  a  favorite,  and  it  is  even  said  she  was 
about  to  marry  him.  Her  brother  was  highly  displeased 
and  often  chid  her,  but  to  no  purpose.  One  day,  ob- 
serving Orion  wading  through  the  sea  with  his  head 
just  above  the  water,  Apollo  pointed  it  out  to  his  sister 
and  maintained  that  she  could  not  hit  that  black  thing 
on  the  sea.  The  archer-goddess  discharged  a  shaft  with 
fatal  aim.  The  waves  rolled  the  dead  body  of  Orion 
to  the  land,  and  bewailing  her  fatal  error  with  many 
tears,  Diana  placed  him  among  the  stars,  where  he  ap- 
pears as  a  giant,  with  a  girdle,  sword,  lion's  skin,  and 
club.  Sirius,  his  dog,  follows  him,  and  the  Pleiads  fly 
before  him. 

The  Pleiads  were  daughters  of  Atlas,  and  nymphs  of 
Diana's  train.  One  day  Orion  saw  them  and  became 
enamoured  and  pursued  them.  In  their  distress  they 
prayed  to  the  gods  to  change  their  form,  and  Jupiter 
in  pity  turned  them  into  pigeons,  and  then  made  them 
a  constellation  in  the  sky.  Though  their  number  was 
seven,  only  six  stars  are  visible,  for  Electra,  one  of 
them,  it  is  said  left  her  place  that  she  might  not  behold 
the  ruin  of  Troy,  for  that  city  was  founded  by  her  son 
Dardanus.  The  sight  had  such  an  effect  on  her  sisters 
that  they  have  looked  pale  ever  since. 

Mr.  Longfellow  has  a  poem  on  the  "Occupation  of 
Orion."  The  following  lines  are  those  in  which  he 
Eludes  to  the  mythic  story.  We  must  premise  that  on 
the  celestial  globe  Orion  is  represented  as  robed  in  a 
lion's  skin  and  wielding  a  club.  At  the  moment  the  stars 
of  the  constellation,  one  by  one,  were  quenched  in  the 
light  of  the  moon,  the  poet  tells  us 

"Down  fell  the  red  skin  of  the  lion 
Into  the  river  at  his  feet. 
His  mighty  club  no  longer  beat 
The  forehead  of  the  bull;  but  he 
Reeled  as  of  yore  beside  the  sea, 


AURORA  AND  TITHONUS  207 

When  blinded  by  (Enopion 
He  sought  the  blacksmith  at  his  forge, 
And  climbing  up  the  narrow  gorge, 

Fixed  his  blank  eyes  upon  the  sun." 

Tennyson  has  a  different  theory  of  the  Pleiads: 

"Many  a  night  I   saw  the   Pleiads,   rising  through  the  mellov 

shade, 
Glitter  like  a  swarm  of  fire-flies  tangled  in  a  silver  braid." 

— Locksley  Hall. 

Byron  alludes  to  the  lost  Pleiad: 

"Like  the  lost  Pleiad  seen  no  more  below." 

See  also  Mrs.  Hemans's  verses  on  the  same  subject. 

AURORA  AND  TITHONUS 

The  goddess  of  the  Dawn,  like  her  sister  the  Moon 
was  at  times  inspired  with  the  love  of  mortals.  Hei 
greatest  favorite  was  Tithonus,  son  of  Laomedon,  king 
of  Troy.  She  stole  him  away,  and  prevailed  on  Jupi- 
ter to  grant  him  immortality;  but,  forgetting  to  have 
youth  joined  in  the  gift,  after  some  time  she  began  to 
discern,  to  her  great  mortification,  that  he  was  growing 
old.  When  his  hair  was  quite  white  she  left  his  soci- 
ety; but  he  still  had  the  range  of  her  palace,  lived  on 
ambrosial  food,  and  was  clad  in  celestial  raiment.  At 
length  he  lost  the  power  of  using  his  limbs,  and  then 
she  shut  him  up  in  his  chamber,  whence  his  feeble  voice 
might  at  times  be  heard.  Finally  she  turned  him  into 
a  grasshopper. 

Memnon  was  the  son  of  Aurora  and  Tithonus.  He 
was  king  of  the  Ethiopians,  and  dwelt  in  the  extreme 
east,  on  the  shore  of  Ocean.  He  came  with  his  war- 
riors to  assist  the  kindred  of  his  father  in  the  war  of 
Troy.  King  Priam  received  him  with  great  honors, 
and  listened  with  admiration  to  his  narrative  of  the 
wonders  of  the  ocean  shore. 

The  very  day  after  his  arrival,  Memnon,  impatient 
of  repose,  led  his  troops  to  the  field.  Antilochus,  the 


208        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

orave  son  of  Nestor,  fell  by  his  hand,  and  the  Greeks 
were  put  to  flight,  when  Achilles  appeared  and  restored 
the  battle.  A  long  and  doubtful  contest  ensued  between 
him  and  the  son  of  Aurora;  at  length  victory  declared 
for  Achilles,  Memnon  fell,  and  the  Trojans  fled  in 
dismay. 

Aurora,  who  from  her  station  in  the  sky  had  viewed 
with  apprehension  the  danger  of  her  son,  when  she 
saw  him  fall,  directed  his  brothers,  the  Winds,  to  con- 
vey his  body  to  the  banks  of  the  river  Esepus  in  Paph- 
lagonia.  In  the  evening  Aurora  came,  accompanied 
by  the  Hours  and  the  Pleiads,  and  wept  and  lamented 
over  her  son.  Night,  in  sympathy  with  her  grief, 
spread  the  heaven  with  clouds ;  all  nature  mourned  for 
the  offspring  of  the  Dawn.  The  ^Ethiopians  raised  his 
tomb  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  in  the  grove  of  the 
Nymphs,  and  Jupiter  caused  the  sparks  and  cinders  of 
his  funeral  pile  to  be  turned  into  birds,  which,  dividing 
into  two  flocks,  fought  over  the  pile  till  they  fell  into 
the  flame.  Every  year  at  the  anniversary  of  his  death 
they  return  and  celebrate  his  obsequies  in  like  manner. 
Aurora  remains  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  her  son. 
Her  tears  still  flow,  and  may  be  seen  at  early  morning 
in  the  form  of  dew-drops  on  the  grass. 

Unlike  most  of  the  marvels  of  ancient  mythology, 
there  still  exist  some  memorials  of  this.  On  the  banks 
of  the  river  Nile,  in  Egypt,  are  two  colossal  statues, 
one  of  which  is  said  to  be  the  statue  of  Memnon.  An- 
cient writers  record  that  when  the  first  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  fall  upon  this  statue  a  sound  is  heard  to  issue 
from  it,  which  they  compare  to  the  snapping  of  a  harp- 
string.  There  is  some  doubt  about  the  identification  of 
the  existing  statue  with  the  one  described  by  the  an- 
cients, and  the  mysterious  sounds  are  still  more  doubtful. 
Yet  there  are  not  wanting  some  modern  testimonies  to 
their  being  still  audible.  It  has  been  suggested  that 
sounds  produced  by  confined  air  making  its  escape  from 
crevices  or  caverns  in  the  rocks  may  have  given  some 
ground  for  the  story.  Sir  Gardner  Wilkinson,  a  late 
traveller,  of  the  highest  authority,  examined  the  statue 


ACIS  AND  GALATEA  209 

itself,  and  discovered  that  it  was  hollow,  and  that  "in 
the  lap  of  the  statue  is  a  stone,  which  on  being  struck 
emits  a  metallic  sound,  that  might  still  be  made  use  of 
to  deceive  a  visitor  who  was  predisposed  to  believe  its 
powers." 

The  vocal  statue  of  Memnon  is  a  favorite  subject 
of  allusion  with  the  poets.  Darwin,  in  his  "Botanic  Gar- 
den/' says: 

"So  to  the  sacred  Sun  in  Memnon's  fane 
Spontaneous  concords  choired  the  matin  strain; 
Touched  by  his  orient  beam   responsive  rings 
The  living  lyre  and  vibrates  all  its  strings; 
Accordant  aisles  the  tender  tones  prolong, 
And  holy  echoes  swell  the  adoring  song." 

Book  I.,  1.,  182. 

ACIS    AND    GALATEA 

Scylla  was  a  fair  virgin  of  Sicily,  a  favorite  of  the 
Sea-Nymphs.  She  had  many  suitors,  but  repelled  them 
all,  and  would  go  to  the  grotto  of  Galatea,  and  tell  her 
how  she  was  persecuted.  One  day  the  goddess,  while 
Scylla  dressed  her  hair,  listened  to  the  story,  and  then 
replied,  "Yet,  maiden,  your  persecutors  are  of  the  not 
ungentle  race  of  men,  whom,  if  you  will,  you  can  repel ; 
but  I,  the  daughter  of  Nereus,  and  protected  by  such 
a  band  of  sisters,  found  no  escape  from  the  passion  of 
the  Cyclops  but  in  the  depths  of  the  sea;"  and  tears 
stopped  her  utterance,  which  when  the  pitying  maiden 
had  wiped  away  with  her  delicate  finger,  and  soothed 
the  goddess,  "Tell  me,  dearest,"  said  she,  "the  cause  of 
your  grief."  Galatea  then  said,  "Acis  was  the  son  of 
Faunus  and  a  Naiad.  His  father  and  mother  loved  him 
dearly,  but  their  love  was  not  equal  to  mine.  For  the 
beautiful  youth  attached  himself  to  me  alone,  and  he 
was  just  sixteen  years  old,  the  down  just  beginning  to 
darken  his  cheeks.  As  much  as  I  sought  his  society,  so 
much  did  the  Cyclops  seek  mine;  and  if  you  ask  me 
whether  my  love  for  Acis  or  my  hatred  of  Polyphemus 
was  the  stronger,  I  cannot  tell  you;  they  were  in  equal 
measure.  O  Venus,  how  great  is  thy  power !  this  fierce 
giant,  the  terror  of  the  woods,  whom  no  hapless  stranger 


210        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

escaped  unharmed,  who  defied  even  Jove  himself,  learned 
to  feel  what  love  was,  and,  touched  with  a  passion  for 
me,  forgot  his  flocks  and  his  well-stored  caverns.  Then 
for  the  first  time  he  began  to  take  some  care  of  his 
appearance,  and  to  try  to  make  himself  agreeable;  he 
harrowed  those  coarse  locks  of  his  with  a  comb,  and 
mowed  his  beard  with  a  sickle,  looked  at  his  harsh  fea- 
tures in  the  water,  and  composed  his  countenance.  His 
love  of  slaughter,  his  fierceness  and  thirst  of  blood  pre- 
vailed no  more,  and  ships  that  touched  at  his  island 
went  away  in  safety.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  sea- 
shore, imprinting  huge  tracks  with  his  heavy  tread,  and, 
when  weary,  lay  tranquilly  in  his  cave. 

"There  is  a  cliff  which  projects  into  the  sea,  which 
washes  it  on  either  side.  Thither  one  day  the  huge 
Cyclops  ascended,  and  sat  down  while  his  flocks  spread 
themselves  around.  Laying  down  his  staff,  which  would 
have  served  for  a  mast  to  hold  a  vessel's  sail,  and  tak- 
ing his  instrument  compacted  of  numerous  pipes,  he 
made  the  hills  and  the  waters  echo  the  music  of  his 
song.  I  lay  hid  under  a  rock  by  the  side  of  my  beloved 
Acis,  and  listened  to  the  distant  strain.  It  was  full 
of  extravagant  praises  of  my  beauty,  mingled  with  pas- 
sionate reproaches  of  my  coldness  and  cruelty. 

"When  he  had  finished  he  rose  up,  and,  like  a  raging 
bull  that  cannot  stand  still,  wandered  off  into  the  woods. 
Acis  and  I  thought  no  more  of  him,  till  on  a  sudden 
he  came  to  a  spot  which  gave  him  a  view  of  us  as  we 
sat.  'I  see  you/  he  exclaimed,  'and  I  will  make  this  the 
last  of  your  love-meetings/  His  voice  was  a  roar  such 
as  an  angry  Cyclops  alone  could  utter.  JEtna  trembled 
at  the  sound.  I,  overcome  with  terror,  plunged  into  the 
water.  Acis  turned  and  fled,  crying,  'Save  me,  Galatea, 
save  me,  my  parents!'  The  Cyclops  pursued  him,  and 
tearing  a  rock  from  the  side  of  the  mountain  hurled  it 
at  him.  Though  only  a  corner  of  it  touched  him,  it 
overwhelmed  him. 

"All  that  fate  left  in  my  power  I  did  for  Acis.  1 
endowed  him  with  the  honors  of  his  grandfather,  the 
river-god.  The  purple  blood  flowed  out  from  under 
the  rock,  but  by  degrees  grew  paler  and  looked  like  the 


THE  TROJAN  WAR  211 

stream  of  a  river  rendered  turbid  by  rains,  and  in  time 
it  became  clear.  The  rock  cleaved  open,  and  the 
water,  as  it  gushed  from  the  chasm,  uttered  a  pleasing 
murmur." 

Thus  Acis  was  changed  into  a  river,  and  the  river 
retains  the  name  of  Acis. 

Dryden,  in  his  "Cymon  and  Iphigenia,"  has  told  the 
story  of  a  clown  converted  into  a  gentleman  by  the 
power  of  love,  in  a  way  that  shows  traces  of  kindred  to 
the  old  story  of  Galatea  and  the  Cyclops. 

"What  not  his  fathers  care  nor  tutor's  art 
Could  plant  with  pains  in  his  unpolished  heart, 
The  best  instructor,  Love,  at  once  inspired, 
As  barren  grounds  to  fruitfulness  are  fired. 
Love  taught  him  shame,  and  shame  with  love  at  strife 
Soon  taught  the  sweet  civilities  of  life." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE  TROJAN   WAR 

MINERVA  was  the  goddess  of  wisdom,  but  on  one 
occasion  she  did  a  very  foolish  thing;  she  entered  into 
competition  with  Juno  and  Venus  for  the  prize  of 
beauty.  It  happened  thus:  At  the  nuptials  of  Peleus 
and  Thetis  all  the  gods  were  invited  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Eris,  or  Discord.  Enraged  at  her  exclusion, 
the  goddess  threw  a  golden  apple  among  the  guests, 
with  the  inscription,  "For  the  fairest."  Thereupon 
Juno,  Venus,  and  Minerva  each  claimed  the  apple. 
Jupiter,  not  willing  to  decide  in  so  delicate  a  matter, 
sent  the  goddesses  to  Mount  Ida,  where  the  beautiful 
shepherd  Paris  was  tending  his  flocks,  and  to  him  was 
committed  the  decision.  The  goddesses  accordingly  ap- 
peared before  him.  Juno  promised  him  power  and 
riches,  Minerva  glory  and  renown  in  war,  and  Venus 
the  fairest  of  women  for  his  wife,  each  attempting  to 
bias  his  decision  in  her  own  favor.  Paris  decided  k* 


212        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

favor  of  Venus  and  gave  her  the  golden  apple,  thus 
making  the  two  other  goddesses  his  enemies.  Under 
the  protection  of  Venus,  Paris  sailed  to  Greece,  and 
was  hospitably  received  by  Menelaus,  king  of  Sparta. 
Now  Helen,  the  wife  of  Menelaus,  was  the  very  wom- 
an whom  Venus  had  destined  for  Paris,  the  fairest 
of  her  sex.  She  had  been  sought  as  a  bride  by  numer- 
ous suitors,  and  before  her  decision  was  made  known, 
they  all,  at  the  suggestion  of  Ulysses,  one  of  their  num- 
ber, took  an  oath  that  they  would  defend  her  from  all 
injury  and  avenge  her  cause  if  necessary.  She  chose 
Menelaus,  and  was  living  with  him  happily  when  Paris 
became  their  guest.  Paris,  aided  by  Venus,  persuaded 
her  to  elope  with  him,  and  carried  her  to  Troy,  whence 
arose  the  famous  Trojan  war,  the  theme  of  the  greatest 
poems  of  antiquity,  those  of  Homer  and  Virgil. 

Menelaus  called  upon  his  brother  chieftains  of  Greece 
to  fulfil  their  pledge,  and  join  him  in  his  efforts  to 
recover  his  wife.  They  generally  came  forward,  but 
Ulysses,  who  had  married  Penelope,  and  was  very  happy 
in  his  wife  and  child,  had  no  disposition  to  embark 
in  such  a  troublesome  affair.  He  therefore  hung  back 
and  Palamedes  was  sent  to  urge  him.  When  Palamedes 
arrived  at  Ithaca  Ulysses  pretended  to  be  mad.  He 
yoked  an  ass  and  an  ox  together  to  the  plough  and 
began  to  sow  salt.  Palamedes,  to  try  him,  placed  the 
infant  Telemachus  before  the  plough,  whereupon  the 
father  turned  the  plough  aside,  showing  plainly  that  he 
was  no  madman,  and  after  that  could  no  longer  refuse 
to  fulfil  his  promise.  Being  now  himself  gained  for  the 
undertaking,  he  lent  his  aid  to  bring  in  other  reluctant 
chiefs,  especially  Achilles.  This  hero  was  the  son  of 
that  Thetis  at  whose  marriage  the  apple  of  Discord  had 
been  thrown  among  the  goddesses.  Thetis  was  herself 
one  of  the  immortals,  a  sea-nymph,  and  knowing  that 
her  son  was  fated  to  perish  before  Troy  if  he  went  on 
the  expedition,  she  endeavored  to  prevent  his  going 
She  sent  him  away  to  the  court  of  King  Lycomedes,  and 
induced  him  to  conceal  himself  in  the  disguise  of  a 
maiden  among  the  daughters  of  the  king.  Ulysses,  hear- 
ing he  was  there,  went  disguised  as  a  merchant  to  the 


THE  TROJAN  WAR  213 

palace  and  offered  for  sale  female  ornaments,  among 
which  he  had  placed  some  arms.  While  the  king's 
daughters  were  engrossed  with  the  other  contents  of 
the  merchant's  pack,  Achilles  handled  the  weapons  and 
thereby  betrayed  himself  to  the  keen  eye  of  Ulysses,  who 
found  no  great  difficulty  in  persuading  him  to  disre- 
gard his  mother's  prudent  counsels  and  join  his  coun- 
trymen in  the  war. 

Priam  was  king  of  Troy,  and  Paris,  the  shepherd 
find  seducer  of  Helen,  was  his  son.  Paris  had  been 
brought  up  in  obscurity,  because  there  were  certain 
ominous  forebodings  connected  with  him  from  his  in- 
fancy that  he  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  state.  These 
forebodings  seemed  at  length  likely  to  be  realized,  for 
the  Grecian  armament  now  in  preparation  was  the 
greatest  that  had  ever  been  fitted  out.  Agamemnon, 
king  of  Mycenae,  and  brother  of  the  injured  Menelaus, 
was  chosen  commander-in-chief.  Achilles  was  their 
most  illustrious  warrior.  After  him  ranked  Ajax,  gi- 
gantic in  size  and  of  great  courage,  but  dull  of  intel- 
lect ;  Diomede,  second  only  to  Achilles  in  all  the  qualities 
of  a  hero;  Ulysses,  famous  for  his  sagacity;  and  Nestor, 
the  oldest  of  the  Grecian  chiefs,  and  one  to  whom  they 
all  looked  up  for  counsel.  But  Troy  was  no  feeble 
enemy.  Priam,  the  king,  was  now  old,  but  he  had  been 
a  wise  prince  and  had  strengthened  his  state  by  good 
government  at  home  and  numerous  alliances  with  his 
neighbors.  But  the  principal  stay  and  support  of  hip 
throne  was  his  son  Hector,  one  of  the  noblest  charac- 
ters painted  by  heathen  antiquity.  He  felt,  from  the 
first,  a  presentiment  of  the  fall  of  his  country,  but  still 
persevered  in  his  heroic  resistance,  yet  by  no  means 
justified  the  wrong  which  brought  this  danger  upon  her. 
He  was  united  in  marriage  with  Andromache,  and  a? 
a  husband  and  father  his  character  was  not  less  ad- 
mirable than  as  a  warrior.  The  principal  leaders  on  the 
side  of  the  Trojans,  besides  Hector,  were  -flineas  and 
Deiphobus,  Glaucus  and  Sarpedon. 

After  two  years  of  preparation  the  Greek  fleet  and 
army  assembled  in  the  port  of  Aulis  in  Boeotia.  Here 
Agamemnon  in  hunting  killed  a  stag  which  was  sacred 


214       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

to  Diana,  and  the  goddess  in  return  visited  the  army 
with  pestilence,  and  produced  a  calm  which  prevented 
the  ships  from  leaving  the  port.  Calchas,  the  sooth- 
sayer, thereupon  announced  that  the  wrath  of  the  virgin 
goddess  could  only  be  appeased  by  the  sacrifice  of  a 
virgin  on  her  altar,  and  that  none  other  but  the  daughter 
of  the  offender  would  be  acceptable.  Agamemnon,  how- 
ever reluctant,  yielded  his  consent,  and  the  maiden 
Iphigenia  was  sent  for  under  the  pretence  that  she  was 
to  be  married  to  Achilles.  When  she  was  about  to 
be  sacrificed  the  goddess  relented  and  snatched  her 
away,  leaving  a  hind  in  her  place,  and  Iphigenia,  en- 
veloped in  a  cloud,  was  carried  to  Tauris,  where  Diana 
made  her  priestess  of  her  temple. 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Dream  of  Fair  Women,"  makes 
Iphigenia  thus  describe  her  feelings  at  the  moment  of 
sacrifice : 

"I  was  cut  off  from  hope  in  that  sad  place, 

Which  yet  to  name  my  spirit  loathes  and  fears; 
My  father  held  his  hand  upon  his  face; 
I,  blinded  by  my  tears, 

"Still  strove  to  speak;  my  voice  was  thick  with  sighs, 

As  In  a  dream.     Dimly  I  could  descry 
The  stern  black-bearded  kings,  with  wolfish  eyes, 
Waiting  to  see  me  die. 

"The  tall  masts  quivered  as  they  lay  afloat, 

The  temples  and  the  people  and  the  shore; 
One  drew  a  sharp  knife  through  my  tender  throat 
Slowly, — and — nothing  more." 

The  wind  now  proving  fair  the  fleet  made  sail  and 
brought  the  forces  to  the  coast  of  Troy.  The  Trojans 
came  to  oppose  their  landing,  and  at  the  first  onset  Pro- 
esilaus  fell  by  the  hand  of  Hector.  Protesilaus  had 
eft  at  home  his  wife,  Laodamia,  who  was  most  ten- 
derly attached  to  him.  When  the  news  of  his  death 
reached  her  she  implored  the  gods  to  be  allowed  to  con- 
verse with  him  only  three  hours.  The  request  was 
granted.  Mercury  led  Protesilaus  back  to  the  upper 
world,  and  when  he  died  a  second  time  Laodamia  died 
with  him.  There  was  a  story  that  the  nymphs  planted 


"THE  ILIAD"  215 

elm  trees  round  his  grave  which  grew  very  well  till  they 
were  high  enough  to  command  a  view  of  Troy,  and 
then  withered  away,  while  fresh  branches  sprang  from 
the  roots. 

Wordsworth  has  taken  the  story  of  Protesilaus  and 
Laodamia  for  the  subject  of  a  poem.  It  seems  the 
oracle  had  declared  that  victory  should  be  the  lot  of 
that  party  from  which  should  fall  the  first  victim  to 
the  war.  The  poet  represents  Protesilaus,  on  his  brief 
leturn  to  earth,  as  relating  to  Laodamia  the  story  of 
his  fate: 

"  'The  wished-f  or  wind  was  given ;  I  then  revolved 

The  oracle,  upon  the  silent  sea; 
And  if  no  worthier  led  the  way,  resolved 

That  of  a  thousand  vessels  mine  should  be 
The  foremost  prow  impressing  to  the  strand, — 
Mine  the  first  blood  that  tinged  the  Trojan  sand. 

"'Yet  bitter,  ofttimes  bitter  was  the  pang 
When  of  thy  loss  I  thought,  beloved  wife! 

On  thee  too  fondly  did  my  memory  hang, 
And  on  the  joys  we  shared  in  mortal  life, 

The  paths  which  we  had  trod, — these  fountains,  flowers; 

My  new  planned  cities  and  unfinished  towers. 

"'But  should  suspense  permit  the  foe  to  cry, 
"Behold  they  tremble !  haughty  their  array, 

Yet  of  their  number  no  one  dares  to  die?" 
In  soul  I  swept  the  indignity  away: 

Old  frailties  then  recurred :  but  lofty  thought 

In  act  embodied  my  deliverance  wrought.' 

".  .  .  upon  the  side 

Of  Hellespont  (such  faith  was  entertained) 
A  knot  of  spiry  trees  for  ages  grew 

From  out  the  tomb  of  him  for  whom  she  died; 

And  ever  when  such  stature  they  had  gained 
That  Ilium's  walls  were  subject  to  their  view, 
The  trees'  tall  summits  withered  at  the  sight, 
A  constant  interchange  of  growth  and  blight!" 

"THE  ILIAD" 

The  war  continued  without  decisive  results  for  nine 
years.  Then  an  event  occurred  which  seemed  likely  to 
be  fatal  to  the  cause  of  the  Greeks,  and  that  was  a 


216        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

quarrel  between  Achilles  and  Agamemnon.  It  is  at  this 
point  that  the  great  poem  of  Homer,  "The  Iliad,"  be- 
gins. The  Greeks,  though  unsuccessful  against  Troy, 
had  taken  the  neighboring  and  allied  cities,  and  in  the 
division  of  the  spoil  a  female  captive,  by  name  Chry- 
seis,  daughter  of  Chryses,  priest  of  Apollo,  had  fallen 
to  the  share  of  Agamemnon.  Chryses  came  bearing  the 
sacred  emblems  of  his  office,  and  begged  the  release  of 
his  daughter.  Agamemnon  refused.  Thereupon  Chry- 
ses implored  Apollo  to  afflict  the  Greeks  till  they  should 
be  forced  to  yield  their  prey.  Apollo  granted  the  prayer 
of  his  priest,  and  sent  pestilence  into  the  Grecian  camp. 
Then  a  council  was  called  to  deliberate  how  to  allay  the 
wrath  of  the  gods  and  avert  the  plague.  Achilles  boldly 
charged  their  misfortunes  upon  Agamemnon  as  caused 
by  his  withholding  Chryseis.  Agamemnon,  enraged, 
consented  to  relinquish  his  captive,  but  demanded  that 
Achilles  should  yield  to  him  in  her  stead  Briseis,  a 
maiden  who  had  fallen  to  Achilles'  share  in  the  division 
of  the  spoil.  Achilles  submitted,  but  forthwith  declared 
that  he  would  take  no  further  part  in  the  war.  He 
withdrew  his  forces  from  the  general  camp  and  openly 
avowed  his  intention  of  returning  home  to  Greece. 

The  gods  and  goddesses  interested  themselves  as  much 
in  this  famous  war  as  the  parties  themselves.  It  was 
well  known  to  them  that  fate  had  decreed  that  Troy 
should  fall,  at  last,  if  her  enemies  should  persevere  and 
not  voluntarily  abandon  the  enterprise.  Yet  there  was 
room  enough  left  for  chance  to  excite  by  turns  the  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  powers  above  who  took  part  with 
either  side.  Juno  and  Minerva,  in  consequence  of  the 
slight  put  upon  their  charms  by  Paris,  were  hostile  to 
the  Trojans;  Venus  for  the  opposite  cause  favored 
them.  Venus  enlisted  her  admirer  Mars  on  the  same 
side,  but  Neptune  favored  the  Greeks.  Apollo  was 
neutral,  sometimes  taking  one  side,  sometimes  the  other, 
and  Jove  himself,  though  he  loved  the  good  King  Priam, 
yet  exercised  a  degree  of  impartiality;  not,  however, 
without  exceptions. 

Thetis,  the  mother  of  Achilles,  warmly  resented  the 
injury  done  to  her  son.  She  repaired  immediately  to 


"THE  ILIAD"  217 

Jove's  palace  and  besought  him  to  make  the  Greeks  re- 
pent of  their  injustice  to  Achilles  by  granting  success 
to  the  Trojan  arms.  Jupiter  consented,  and  in  the  bat- 
tle which  ensued  the  Trojans  were  completely  success- 
ful. The  Greeks  were  driven  from  the  field  and  took 
refuge  in  their  ships. 

Then  Agamemnon  called  a  council  of  his  wisest  and 
bravest  chiefs.  Nestor  advised  that  an  embassy  should 
be  sent  to  Achilles  to  persuade  him  to  return  to  the 
field;  that  Agamemnon  should  yield  the  maiden,  the 
cause  of  the  dispute,  with  ample  gifts  to  atone  for  the 
wrong  he  had  done.  Agamemnon  consented,  and 
Ulysses,  Ajax,  and  Phoenix  were  sent  to  carry  to 
Achilles  the  penitent  message.  They  performed  that 
duty,  but  Achilles  was  deaf  to  their  entreaties.  He 
positively  refused  to  return  to  the  field,  and  persisted 
in  his  resolution  to  embark  for  Greece  without  delay. 

The  Greeks  had  constructed  a  rampart  around  their 
ships,  and  now  instead  of  besieging  Troy  they  were  in 
a  manner  besieged  themselves,  within  their  rampart. 
The  next  day  after  the  unsuccessful  embassy  to  Achil- 
les, a  battle  was  fought,  and  the  Trojans,  favored  by 
Jove,  were  successful,  and  succeeded  in  forcing  a  pas- 
sage through  the  Grecian  rampart,  and  were  about  to 
set  fire  to  the  ships.  Neptune,  seeing  the  Greeks  so 
pressed,  came  to  their  rescue.  He  appeared  in  the  form 
of  Calchas  the  prophet,  encoura^  ed  the  warriors  with 
his  shouts,  and  appealed  to  each  individually  till  he 
raised  their  ardor  to  such  a  pitch  that  they  forced  the 
Trojans  to  give  way.  Ajax  performed  prodigies  of 
valor,  and  at  length  encountered  Hector.  Ajax  shouted 
defiance,  to  which  Hector  replied,  and  hurled  his  lance 
at  the  huge  warrior.  It  was  well  aimed  and  struck 
Ajax,  where  the  belts  that  bore  his  sword  and  shield 
crossed  each  other  on  the  breast.  The  double  guard 
prevented  its  penetrating  and  it  fell  harmless.  Then 
Ajax,  seizing  a  huge  stone,  one  of  those  that  served  to 
prop  the  ships,  hurled  it  at  Hector.  It  struck  him  in 
the  neck  and  stretched  him  on  the  plain.  His  followers 
instantly  seized  him  and  bore  him  off,  stunned  and 
wounded. 


213        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

While  Neptune  was  thus  aiding  the  Greeks  and  driv- 
ing back  the  Trojans,  Jupiter  saw  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on,  for  his  attention  had  been  drawn  from  the 
field  by  the  wiles  of  Juno.  That  goddess  had  arrayed 
herself  in  all  her  charms,  and  to  crown  all  had  bor- 
rowed of  Venus  her  girdle,  called  "Cestus,"  which  had 
the  effect  to  heighten  the  wearer's  charms  to  such  a  de- 
gree that  they  were  quite  irresistible.  So  prepared,  Juno 
went  to  join  her  husband,  who  sat  on  Olympus  watch- 
ing the  battle.  When  he  beheld  her  she  looked  so  charm- 
ing that  the  fondness  of  his  early  love  revived,  and, 
forgetting  the  contending  armies  and  all  other  affairs  of 
state,  he  thought  only  of  her  and  let  the  battle  go  as 
it  would. 

But  this  absorption  did  not  continue  long,  and  when, 
upon  turning  his  eyes  downward,  he  beheld  Hector 
stretched  on  the  plain  almost  lifeless  from  pain  and 
bruises,  he  dismissed  Juno  in  a  rage,  commanding  her 
to  send  Iris  and  Apollo  to  him.  When  Iris  came  he 
sent  her  with  a  stern  message  to  Neptune,  ordering  him 
instantly  to  quit  the  field.  Apollo  was  despatched  to 
heal  Hector's  bruises  and  to  inspirit  his  heart.  These 
orders  were  obeyed  with  such  speed  that,  while  the  bat- 
tle still  raged,  Hector  returned  to  the  field  and  Neptune 
betook  himself  to  his  own  dominions. 

An  arrow  from  Paris's  bow  wounded  Machaon,  son 
of  ^sculapius,  who  inherited  his  father's  art  of  heal- 
ing, and  was  therefore  of  great  value  to  the  Greeks  as 
their  surgeon,  besides  being  one  of  their  bravest  war- 
riors. Nestor  took  Machaon  in  his  chariot  and  conveyed 
him  from  the  field.  As  they  passed  the  ships  of  Achil- 
les, that  hero,  looking  put  over  the  field,  saw  the  chariot 
of  Nestor  and  recognized  the  old  chief,  but  could  not 
discern  who  the  wounded  chief  was.  So  calling  Patro- 
clus,  his  companion  and  dearest  friend,  he  sent  him  to 
Nestor's  tent  to  inquire. 

Patroclus,  arriving  at  Nestor's  tent,  saw  Machaon 
wounded,  and  having  told  the  cause  of  his  coming  would 
have  hastened  away,  but  Nestor  detained  him,  to  tell 
him  the  extent  of  the  Grecian  calamities.  He  reminded 
him  also  how,  at  the  time  of  departing  for  Troy,  Achilles 


"THE  ILIAD"  219 

and  himself  had  been  charged  by  their  respective  fathers 
with  different  advice:  Achilles  to  aspire  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  glory,  Patroclus,  as  the  elder,  to  keep  watch 
over  his  friend,  and  to  guide  his  inexperience.  "Now," 
said  Nestor,  "is  the  time  for  such  influence.  If  the 
gods  so  please,  thou  mayest  win  him  back  to  the  com 
mon  cause;  but  if  not  let  him  at  least  send  his  soldiers 
to  the  field,  and  come  thou,  Patroclus,  clad  in  his  armor, 
and  perhaps  the  very  sight  of  it  may  drive  back  the 
Trojans." 

Patroclus  was  strongly  moved  with  this  address,  and 
hastened  back  to  Achilles,  revolving  in  his  mind  all  he 
had  seen  and  heard.  He  told  the  prince  the  sad  con- 
dition of  affairs  at  the  camp  of  their  late  associates: 
Diomede,  Ulysses,  Agamemnon,  Machaon,  all  wounded, 
the  rampart  broken  down,  the  enemy  among  the  ships 
preparing  to  burn  them,  and  thus  to  cut  off  all  means 
of  return  to  Greece.  While  they  spoke  the  flames  burst 
forth  from  one  of  the  ships.  Achilles,  at  the  sight,  re- 
lented so  far  as  to  grant  Patroclus  his  request  to  lead 
the  Myrmidons  (for  so  were  Achilles'  soldiers  called) 
to  the  field,  and  to  lend  him  his  armor,  that  he  might 
thereby  strike  more  terror  into  the  minds  of  the  Tro- 
jans. Without  delay  the  soldiers  were  marshalled, 
Patroclus  put  on  the  radiant  armor  and  mounted  the 
chariot  of  Achilles,  and  led  forth  the  men  ardent  foi 
battle.  But  before  he  went,  Achilles  strictly  charged 
him  that  he  should  be  content  with  repelling  the  foe. 
"Seek  not,"  said  he,  "to  press  the  Trojans  without  me, 
lest  thou  add  still  more  to  the  disgrace  already  mine." 
Then  exhorting  the  troops  to  do  their  best  he  dismissed 
them  full  of  ardor  to  the  fight. 

Patroclus  and  his  Myrmidons  at  once  plunged  into 
the  contest  where  it  raged  hottest ;  at  the  sight  of  which 
the  joyful  Grecians  shouted  and  the  ships  reechoed  the 
acclaim.  The  Trojans,  at  the  sight  of  the  well-known 
armor,  struck  with  terror,  looked  everywhere  for  refuge. 
First  those  who  had  got  possession  of  the  ship  and  set 
it  on  fire  left  and  allowed  the  Grecians  to  retake  it  and 
extinguish  the  flames.  Then  the  rest  of  the  Trojans  fled 
in  dismay.  Ajax,  Menelaus,  and  the  two  sons  of  Nestor 


220       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

performed  prodigies  of  valor.  Hector  was  forced  to 
turn  his  horses'  heads  and  retire  from  the  enclosure, 
leaving  his  men  entangled  in  the  fosse  to  escape  as  they 
could.  Patroclus  drove  them  before  him,  slaying  many, 
none  daring  to  make  a  stand  against  him. 

At  last  Sarpedon,  son  of  Jove,  ventured  to  oppose 
himself  in  fight  to  Patroclus.  Jupiter  looked  down  upon 
him  and  would  have  snatched  him  from  the  fate  which 
awaited  him,  but  Juno  hinted  that  if  he  did  so  it  would 
induce  all  others  of  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  to  inter- 
pose in  like  manner  whenever  any  of  their  offspring 
were  endangered ;  to  which  reason  Jove  yielded.  Sarpe- 
don threw  his  spear,  but  missed  Patroclus,  but  Patroclus 
threw  his  with  better  success.  It  pierced  Sarpedon's 
breast  and  he  fell,  and,  calling  to  his  friends  to  save 
his  body  from  the  foe,  expired.  Then  a  furious  con- 
test arose  for  the  possession  of  the  corpse.  The  Greeks 
succeeded  and  stripped  Sarpedon  of  his  armor;  but  Jove 
would  not  allow  the  remains  of  his  son  to  be  dishonored, 
and  by  his  command  Apollo  snatched  from  the  midst  of 
the  combatants  the  body  of  Sarpedon  and  committed  it 
to  the  care  of  the  twin  brothers  Death  and  Sleep,  by 
whom  it  was  transported  to  Lycia,  the  native  land  of 
Sarpedon,  where  it  received  due  funeral  rites. 

Thus  far  Patroclus  had  succeeded  to  his  utmost  wish 
in  repelling  the  Trojans  and  relieving  his  countrymen, 
but  now  came  a  change  of  fortune.  Hector,  borne  in 
his  chariot,  confronted  him.  Patroclus  threw  a  vast 
stone  at  Hector,  which  missed  its  aim,  but  smote  Ce- 
briones,  the  charioteer,  and  knocked  him  from  the 
car.  Hector  leaped  from  the  chariot  to  rescue  his 
friend,  and  Patroclus  also  descended  to  complete  his 
victory.  Thus  the  two  heroes  met  face  to  face.  At 
this  decisive  moment  the  poet,  as  if  reluctant  to  give 
Hector  the  glory,  records  that  Phoebus  took  part  against 
Patroclus.  He  struck  the  helmet  from  his  head  and  the 
lance  from  his  hand.  At  the  same  moment  an  obscure 
Trojan  wounded  him  in  the  back,  and  Hector,  press- 
ing forward,  pierced  him  with  his  spear.  He  fell  mor- 
tally wounded. 

Then  arose  a  tremendous  conflict  for  the  body  of 


"THE  ILIAD"  221 

Patroclus,  but  his  armor  was  at  once  taken  possession 
of  by  Hector,  who  retiring  a  short  distance  divested 
himself  of  his  own  armor  and  put  on  that  of  Achilles, 
then  returned  to  the  fight.  Ajax  and  Menelaus  de- 
fended the  body,  and  Hector  and  his  bravest  warriors 
struggled  to  capture  it.  The  battle  raged  with  equal 
fortunes,  when  Jove  enveloped  the  whole  face  of  heaven 
with  a  dark  cloud.  The  lightning  flashed,  the  thunder 
roared,  and  Ajax,  looking  round  for  some  one  whom 
he  might  despatch  to  Achilles  to  tell  him  of  the  death 
of  his  friend,  and  of  the  imminent  danger  that  his  re- 
mains would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  could 
see  no  suitable  messenger.  It  was  then  that  he  ex- 
claimed in  those  famous  lines  so  often  quoted, 

'  Father  of  heaven  and  earth !  deliver  thou 
Achaia's  host  from  darkness;  clear  the  skies; 
Give  day;  and,  since  thy  sovereign  will  is  such, 
Destruction  with  it;  but,  O,  give  us  day." 

— Cowper. 

Or,  as  rendered  by  Pope, 

".  .  .  Lord  of  earth  and  air! 
O  king!     O  father!  hear  my  humble  prayer! 
Dispel  this  cloud,  the  light  of  heaven  restore; 
Give  me  to  see  and  Ajax  asks  no  more; 
If  Greece  must  perish  we  thy  will  obey, 
But  let  us  perish  in  the  face  of  day." 

Jupiter  heard  the  prayer  and  dispersed  the  clouds. 
Then  Ajax  sent  Antilochus  to  Achilles  with  the  intelli- 
gence of  Patroclus's  death,  and  of  the  conflict  raging 
for  his  remains.  The  Greeks  at  last  succeeded  in  bear- 
ing off  the  body  to  the  ships,  closely  pursued  by  Hector 
and  ./Eneas  and  the  rest  of  the  Trojans. 

Achilles  heard  the  fate  of  his  friend  with  such  dis- 
tress that  Antilochus  feared  for  a  while  that  he  would 
destroy  himself.  His  groans  reached  the  ears  of  his 
mother,  Thetis,  far  down  in  the  deeps  of  ocean  where 
she  abode,  and  she  hastened  to  him  to  inquire  the  cause, 
She  found  him  overwhelmed  with  self-reproach  that 
he  had  indulged  his  resentment  so  far,  and  suffered  hi* 
friend  to  fall  a  victim  to  it.  But  his  ovly  consolation 


222        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

was  the  hope  of  revenge.  He  would  fly  instantly  in 
search  of  Hector.  But  his  mother  reminded  him  that 
he  was  now  without  armor,  and  promised  him,  if  he 
would  but  wait  till  the  morrow,  she  would  procure  for 
him  a  suit  of  armor  from  Vulcan  more  than  equal  tc 
that  he  had  lost.  He  consented,  and  Thetis  immediately 
repaired  to  Vulcan's  palace.  She  found  him  busy  at 
his  forge  making  tripods  for  his  own  use,  so  artfull} 
constructed  that  they  moved  forward  of  their  own  ac- 
cord when  wanted,  and  retired  again  when  dismissed. 
On  hearing  the  request  of  Thetis,  Vulcan  immediately 
laid  aside  his  work  and  hastened  to  comply  with  her 
wishes.  He  fabricated  a  splendid  suit  of  armor  for 
Achilles,  first  a  shield  adorned  with  elaborate  devices, 
then  a  helmet  crested  with  gold,  then  a  corselet  and 
greaves  of  impenetrable  temper,  all  perfectly  adapted 
to  his  form,  and  of  consummate  workmanship.  It  was 
all  done  in  one  night,  and  Thetis,  receiving  it,  descended 
with  it  to  earth,  and  laid  it  down  at  Achilles'  feet  at  the 
dawn  of  day. 

The  first  glow  of  pleasure  that  Achilles  had  felt  since 
the  death  of  Patroclus  was  at  the  sight  of  this  splendid 
armor.  And  now,  arrayed  in  it,  he  went  forth  into  the 
camp,  calling  all  the  chiefs  to  council.  When  they  were 
all  assembled  he  addressed  them.  Renouncing  his  dis- 
pleasure against  Agamemnon  and  bitterly  lamenting  the 
miseries  that  had  resulted  from  it,  he  called  on  them  to 
proceed  at  once  to  the  field.  Agamemnon  made  a  suit- 
able reply,  laying  all  the  blame  on  Ate,  the  goddess  of 
discord;  and  thereupon  complete  reconcilement  took 
place  between  the  heroes. 

Then  Achilles  went  forth  to  battle  inspired  with  a 
rage  and  thirst  for  vengeance  that  made  him  irresistible. 
The  bravest  warriors  fled  before  him  or  fell  by  his 
Zance.  Hector,  cautioned  by  Apollo,  kept  aloof;  but 
the  god,  assuming  the  form  of  one  of  Priam's  sons, 
Lycaon,  urged  ^Eneas  to  encounter  the  terrible  war- 
rior, yfeneas,  though  he  felt  himself  unequal,  did  not 
decline  the  combat.  He  hurled  his  spear  with  all  his 
force  against  the  shield  the  work  of  Vulcan.  It  was 
formed  of  five  metal  plates;  two  were  of  brass,  two 


"THE  ILIAD"  223 

of  tin,  and  one  of  gold.  The  spear  pierced  two  thick- 
nesses, but  was  stopped  in  the  third.  Achilles  threw  his 
with  better  success.  It  pierced  through  the  shield  of 
yEneas,  but  glanced  near  his  shoulder  and  made  no 
wound.  Then  ^Eneas  seized  a  stone,  such  as  two  men 
of  modern  times  could  hardly  lift,  and  was  about  to 
throw  it,  and  Achilles,  with  sword  drawn,  was  about 
to  rush  upon  him,  when  Neptune,  who  looked  out  upon 
the  contest,  moved  with  pity  for  yEneas,  who  he  saw 
would  surely  fall  a  victim  if  not  speedily  rescued,  spread 
a  cloud  between  the  combatants,  and  lifting  yEneas  from 
the  ground,  bore  him  over  the  heads  of  warriors  and 
steeds  to  the  rear  of  the  battle.  Achilles,  when  the 
mist  cleared  away,  looked  round  in  vain  for  his  ad- 
versary, and  acknowledging  the  prodigy,  turned  his  arms 
against  other  champions.  But  none  dared  stand  before 
him,  and  Priam  looking  down  from  the  city  walls  be- 
held his  whole  army  in  full  flight  towards  the  city.  He 
gave  command  to  open  wide  the  gates  to  receive  the 
fugitives,  and  to  shut  them  as  soon  as  the  Trojans 
should  have  passed,  lest  the  enemy  should  enter  like- 
wise. But  Achilles  was  so  close  in  pursuit  that  that 
would  have  been  impossible  if  Apollo  had  not,  in  the 
form  of  Agenor,  Priam's  son,  encountered  Achilles  for 
a  while,  then  turned  to  fly,  and  taken  the  way  apart 
from  the  city.  Achilles  pursued  and  had  chased  his 
supposed  victim  far  from  the  walls,  when  Apollo  dis- 
closed himself,  and  Achilles,  perceiving  how  he  had  been 
deluded,  gave  up  the  chase. 

But  when  the  rest  had  escaped  into  the  town  Hector 
stood  without  determined  to  await  the  combat.  His 
old  father  called  to  him  from  the  walls  and  begged  him 
to  retire  nor  tempt  the  encounter.  His  mother,  Hecuba, 
also  besought  him  to  the  same  effect,  but  all  in  vain. 
"How  can  I,"  said  he  to  himself,  "by  whose  command 
the  people  went  to  this  day's  contest,  where  so  many 
have  fallen,  seek  safety  for  myself  against  a  single  foe? 
But  what  if  I  offer  him  to  yield  up  Helen  and  all  her 
treasures  and  ample  of  our  own  beside?  Ah,  no!  it  is 
too  late.  He  would  not  even  hear  me  through,  but  slay 
me  while  I  spoke."  While  he  thus  ruminated.  Achilles 


224        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

approached,  terrible  as  Mars,  his  armor  flashing  light- 
ning as  he  moved.  At  that  sight  Hector's  heart  failed 
him  and  he  fled.  Achilles  swiftly  pursued.  They  ran, 
still  keeping  near  the  walls,  till  they  had  thrice  encircled 
the  city.  As  often  as  Hector  approached  the  walls 
Achilles  intercepted  him  and  forced  him  to  keep  out  in 
a  wider  circle.  But  Apollo  sustained  Hector's  strength 
and  would  not  let  him  sink  in  weariness.  Then  Pallas, 
assuming  the  form  of  Deiphobus,  Hector's  bravest 
brother,  appeared  suddenly  at  his  side.  Hector  saw  him 
with  delight,  and  thus  strengthened  stopped  his  flight 
and  turned  to  meet  Achilles.  Hector  threw  his  spear, 
which  struck  the  shield  of  Achilles  and  bounded  back. 
He  turned  to  receive  another  from  the  hand  of  Deipho- 
bus, but  Deiphobus  was  gone.  Then  Hector  understood 
his  doom  and  said,  "Alas!  it  is  plain  this  is  my  hour 
to  die!  I  thought  Deiphobus  at  hand,  but  Pallas  de- 
ceived me,  and  he  is  still  in  Troy.  But  I  will  not  fall 
inglorious."  So  saying  he  drew  his  falchion  from  his 
side  and  rushed  at  once  to  combat.  Achilles,  secured 
behind  his  shield,  waited  the  approach  of  Hector.  When 
he  came  within  reach  of  his  spear,  Achilles  choosing 
with  his  eye  a  vulnerable  part  where  the  armor  leaves 
the  neck  uncovered,  aimed  his  spear  at  that  part  and 
Hector  fell,  death-wounded,  and  feebly  said,  "Spare  my 
body!  Let  my  parents  ransom  it,  and  let  me  receive 
funeral  rites  from  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Troy."  To 
which  Achilles  replied,  "Dog,  name  not  ransom  nor  pity 
to  me,  on  whom  you  have  brought  such  dire  distress. 
No!  trust  me,  naught  shall  save  thy  carcass  from  the 
dogs.  Though  twenty  ransoms  and  thy  weight  in  gold 
were  offered,  I  would  refuse  it  all." 

So  saying  he  stripped  the  body  of  its  armor,  and 
fastening  cords  to  the  feet  tied  them  behind  his  chariot, 
leaving  the  body  to  trail  along  the  ground.  Then  mount- 
ing the  chariot  he  lashed  the  steeds  and  so  dragged  the 
body  to  and  fro  before  the  city.  What  words  can  tell 
the  grief  of  King  Priam  and  Queen  Hecuba  at  this 
sight!  His  people  could  scarce  restrain  the  old  king 
from  rushing  forth.  He  threw  himself  in  the  dust  and 
besought  them  each  by  name  to  give  him  way.  Hec- 


"THE  ILIAD"  223 

ttba's  distress  was  not  less  violent.  The  citizens  stood 
round  them  weeping.  The  sound  of  the  mourning 
reached  the  ears  of  Andromache,  the  wife  of  Hector, 
as  she  sat  among  her  maidens  at  work,  and  anticipating 
evil  she  went  forth  to  the  wall.  When  she  saw  the 
sight  there  presented,  she  would  have  thrown  herself 
headlong  from  the  wall,  but  fainted  and  fell  into  the 
arms  of  her  maidens.  Recovering,  she  bewailed  her 
fate,  picturing  to  herself  her  country  ruined,  herself  a 
captive,  and  her  son  dependent  for  his  bread  on  the 
charity  of  strangers. 

When  Achilles  and  the  Greeks  had  taken  their  re- 
venge on  the  killer  of  Patroclus  they  busied  themselves 
in  paying*  due  funeral  rites  to  their  friend.  A  pile  was 
erected,  and  the  body  burned  with  due  solemnity;  and 
then  ensued  games  of  strength  and  skill,  chariot  races, 
wrestling,  boxing,  and  archery.  Then  the  chiefs  sat 
down  to  the  funeral  banquet  and  after  that  retired  to 
rest.  But  Achilles  neither  partook  of  the  feast  nor  of 
sleep.  The  recollection  of  his  lost  friend  kept  him 
awake,  remembering  their  companionship  in  toil  and 
dangers,  in  battle  or  on  the  perilous  deep.  Before  the 
earliest  dawn  he  left  his  tent,  and  joining  to  his  chariot 
his  swift  steeds,  he  fastened  Hector's  body  to  be  dragged 
behind.  Twice  he  dragged  him  around  the  tomb  of 
Patroclus,  leaving  him  at  length  stretched  in  the  dust. 
But  Apollo  would  not  permit  the  body  to  be  torn  or 
disfigured  with  all  this  abuse,  but  preserved  it  free  from 
all  taint  or  defilement. 

While  Achilles  indulged  his  wrath  in  thus  disgracing 
brave  Hector,  Jupiter  in  pity  summoned  Thetis  to  his 
presence.  He  told  her  to  go  to  her  son  and  prevail  on 
him  to  restore  the  body  of  Hector  to  his  friends.  Then 
Jupiter  sent  Iris  to  King  Priam  to  encourage  him  to  go 
to  Achilles  and  beg  the  body  of  his  son.  Iris  delivered 
her  message,  and  Priam  immediately  prepared  to  obey. 
He  opened  his  treasuries  and  took  out  rich  garments  and 
cloths,  with  ten  talents  in  gold  and  two  splendid  tripods 
and  a  golden  cup  of  matchless  workmanship.  Then  he 
called  to  his  sons  and  bade  them  draw  forth  his  litter 
and  place  in  it  the  various  articles  designed  for  a  ransom 


226        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

to  Achilles.  When  all  was  ready,  the  old  king  with  a 
single  companion  as  aged  as  himself,  the  herald  Idaeus, 
drove  forth  from  the  gates,  parting  there  with  Hecuba, 
his  queen,  and  all  his  friends,  who  lamented  him  as 
going  to  certain  death. 

But  Jupiter,  beholding  with  compassion  the  venerable 
king,  sent  Mercury  to  be  his  guide  and  protector.  Mer- 
cury, assuming  the  form  of  a  young  warrior,  presented 
himself  to  the  aged  couple,  and  while  at  the  sight  of  him 
they  hesitated  whether  to  fly  or  yield,  the  god  ap- 
proached, and  grasping  Priam's  hand  offered  to  be  their 
guide  to  Achilles'  tent.  Priam  gladly  accepted  his 
offered  service,  and  he,  mounting  the  carriage,  assumed 
the  reins  and  soon  conveyed  them  to  the  tent  of'  Achilles. 
Mercury's  wand  put  to  sleep  all  the  guards,  and  without 
hinderance  he  introduced  Priam  into  the  tent  where 
Achilles  sat,  attended  by  two  of  his  warriors.  The  old 
king  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Achilles,  and  kissed 
those  terrible  hands  which  had  destroyed  so  many  of  his 
sons.  "Think,  O  Achilles,"  he  said,  "of  thy  own  father, 
full  of  days  like  me,  and  trembling  on  the  gloomy  verge 
of  life.  Perhaps  even  now  some  neighbor  chief  op- 
presses him  and  there  is  none  at  hand  to  succor  him  in 
his  distress.  Yet  doubtless  knowing  that  Achilles  lives  he 
still  rejoices,  hoping  that  one  day  he  shall  see  thy  face 
again.  But  no  comfort  cheers  me,  whose  bravest  sons,  so 
late  the  flower  of  Ilium,  all  have  fallen.  Yet  one  I  had, 
one  more  than  all  the  rest  the  strength  of  my  age,  whom, 
fighting  for  his  country,  thou  hast  slain.  I  come  to 
redeem  his  body,  bringing  inestimable  ransom  with  me. 
Achilles !  reverence  the  gods !  recollect  thy  father !  for 
his  sake  show  compassion  to  me !"  These  words  moved 
Achilles,  and  he  wept ;  remembering  by  turns  his  absent 
father  and  his  lost  friend.  Moved  with  pity  of  Priam's 
silver  locks  and  beard,  he  raised  him  from  the  earth, 
and  thus  spake:  "Priam,  I  know  that  thou  hast  reached 
this  place  conducted  by  some  god,  for  without  aid  divine 
no  mortal  even  in  his  prime  of  youth  had  dared  the 
attempt.  I  grant  thy  request,  moved  thereto  by  the 
evident  will  of  Jove."  So  saying  he  arose,  and  went 
forth  with  his  two  friends,  and  unloaded  of  its  charge 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY  227 

the  litter,  leaving  two  mantles  and  a  robe  for  the  cover- 
ing of  the  body,  which  they  placed  on  the  litter,  and 
spread  the  garments  over  it,  that  not  unveiled  it  should 
be  borne  back  to  Troy.  Then  Achilles  dismissed  the  old 
king  with  his  attendants,  having  first  pledged  himself  to 
allow  a  truce  of  twelve  days  for  the  funeral  solemnities. 

As  the  litter  approached  the  city  and  was  descried  from 
the  walls,  the  people  poured  forth  to  gaze  once  more  on 
the  face  of  their  hero.  Foremost  of  all,  the  mother  and 
the  wife  of  Hector  came,  and  at  the  sight  of  the  lifeless 
body  renewed  their  lamentations.  The  people  all  wept 
with  them,  and  to  the  going  down  of  the  sun  there  was 
no  pause  or  abatement  of  their  grief. 

The  next  day  preparations  were  made  for  the  funeral 
solemnities.  For  nine  days  the  people  brought  wood 
and  built  the  pile,  and  on  the  tenth  they  placed  the  body 
on  the  summit  and  applied  the  torch;  while  all  Troy 
thronging  forth  encompassed  the  pile.  When  it  had 
completely  burned,  they  quenched  the  cinders  with  wine, 
collected  the  bones  and  placed  them  in  a  golden  urn, 
which  they  buried  in  the  earth,  and  reared  a  pile  of 
stones  over  the  spot. 

"Such  honors  Ilium  to  her  hero  paid, 
And  peaceful  slept  the  mighty  Hector's  shade/' 

— Pope. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  FALL  OF  TROY — RETURN  OF  THE  GREEKS ORESTES 

AND  ELECTRA 

THE  FALL  OF  TROY 

THE  story  of  the  Iliad  ends  with  the  death  of  Hec- 
tor, and  it  is  from  the  Odyssey  and  later  poems  that 
we  learn  the  fate  of  the  other  heroes.  After  the  death 
of  Hector,  Troy  did  not  immediately  fall,  but  receiv- 
ing aid  from  new  allies  still  continued  its  resistance. 
One  of  these  allies  was  Memnon,  the  ^Ethiopian  prince. 


228        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

whose  story  we  have  already  told.  Another  was  Pen- 
thesilea,  queen  of  the  Amazons,  who  came  with  a  band 
of  female  warriors.  All  the  authorities  attest  their  valor 
and  the  fearful  effect  of  their  war  cry.  Penthesilea 
slew  many  of  the  bravest  warriors,  but  was  at  last  slain 
by  Achilles.  But  when  the  hero  bent  over  his  fallen 
foe,  and  contemplated  her  beauty,  youth,  and  valor,  he 
bitterly  regretted  his  victory.  Thersites,  an  insolent 
brawler  and  demagogue,  ridiculed  his  grief,  and  was  in 
consequence  slain  by  the  hero. 

Achilles  by  chance  had  seen  Polyxena,  daughter  of 
King  Priam,  perhaps  on  the  occasion  of  the  truce  which 
was  allowed  the  Trojans  for  the  burial  of  Hector.  He 
was  captivated  with  her  charms,  and  to  win  her  in  mar- 
riage agreed  to  use  his  influence  with  the  Greeks  to 
grant  peace  to  Troy.  While  in  the  temple  of  Apollo, 
negotiating  the  marriage,  Paris  discharged  at  him  a 
poisoned  arrow,  which,  guided  by  Apollo,  wounded 
Achilles  in  the  heel,  the  only  vulnerable  part  about  him. 
For  Thetis  his  mother  had  dipped  him  when  an  infant 
in  the  river  Styx,  which  made  every  part  of  him  invul- 
nerable except  the  heel  by  which  she  held  him.1 

The  body  of  Achilles  so  treacherously  slain  was 
rescued  by  Ajax  and  Ulysses.  Thetis  directed  the 
Greeks  to  bestow  her  son's  armor  on  the  hero  who  of 
all  the  survivors  should  be  judged  most  deserving  of  it. 
Ajax  and  Ulysses  were  the  only  claimants;  a  select 
number  of  the  other  chiefs  were  appointed  to  award 
the  prize.  It  was  awarded  to  Ulysses,  thus  placing  wis- 
dom before  valor;  whereupon  Ajax  slew  himself.  On 
the  spot  where  his  blood  sank  into  the  earth  a  flower 
sprang  up,  called  the  hyacinth,  bearing  on  its  leaves  the 
first  two  letters  of  the  name  of  Ajax,  Ai,  the  Greek 
for  "woe."  Thus  Ajax  is  a  claimant  with  the  boy 
Hyacinthus  for  the  honor  of  giving  birth  to  this  flower. 
There  is  a  species  of  Larkspur  which  represents  the 
hyacinth  of  the  poets  in  preserving  the  memory  of  this 
event,  the  Delphinium  Ajacis — Ajax's  Larkspur. 

aThc  story  of  the  invulnerability  of  Achilles  is  not  found  in  Homer. 
*nd  is  inconsistent  with  his  account.  For  how  could  Achilles  require  the 
«id  of  celestial  armor  if  he  were  invulnerable? 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY  229 

It  was  now  discovered  that  Troy  could  not  be  taken 
but  by  the  aid  of  the  arrows  of  Hercules.  They  were 
in  possession  of  Philoctetes,  the  friend  who  had  been 
with  Hercules  at  the  last  and  lighted  his  funeral  pyre. 
Philoctetes  had  joined  the  Grecian  expedition  against 
Troy,  but  had  accidentally  wounded  his  foot  with  one 
of  the  poisoned  arrows,  and  the  smell  from  his  wound 
proved  so  offensive  that  his  companions  carried  him  to 
the  isle  of  Lemnos  and  left  him  there.  Diomed  was 
now  sent  to  induce  him  to  rejoin  the  army.  He  suc- 
ceeded. Philoctetes  was  cured  of  his  wound  by  Ma- 
chaon,  and  Paris  was  the  first  victim  of  the  fatal  arrows. 
In  his  distress  Paris  bethought  him  of  one  whom  in 
his  prosperity  he  had  forgotten.  This  was  the  nymph 
CEnone,  whom  he  had  married  when  a  youth,  and  had 
abandoned  for  the  fatal  beauty  Helen.  (Enone,  remem- 
bering the  wrongs  she  had  suffered,  refused  to  heal  the 
wound,  and  Paris  went  back  to  Troy  and  died.  CEnone 
quickly  repented,  and  hastened  after  him  with  remedies, 
but  came  too  late,  and  in  her  grief  hung  herself.1 

There  was  in  Troy  a  celebrated  statue  of  Minerva 
called  the  Palladium.  It  was  said  to  have  fallen  from 
heaven,  and  the  belief  was  that  the  city  could  not  be 
taken  so  long  as  this  statue  remained  within  it.  Ulysses 
and  Diomed  entered  the  city  in  disguise  and  succeeded 
in  obtaining  the  Palladium,  which  they  carried  oif  to  the 
Grecian  camp. 

But  Troy  still  held  out,  and  the  Greeks  began  to 
despair  of  ever  subduing  it  by  force,  and  by  advice  of 
Ulysses  resolved  to  resort  to  stratagem.  They  pre- 
tended to  be  making  preparations  to  abandon  the  siege, 
and  a  portion  of  the  ships  were  withdrawn  and  lay  hid 
behind  a  neighboring  island.  The  Greeks  then  con- 
structed an  immense  wooden  horse,  which  they  gave  out 
was  intended  as  a  propitiatory  offering  to  Minerva,  but  in 
fact  was  filled  with  armed  men.  The  remaining  Greeks 
then  betook  themselves  to  their  ships  and  sailed  away, 
as  if  for  a  final  departure.  The  Trojans,  seeing  the  en- 

*  Tennyson  has  chosen  OZnone  as  the  subject  of  a  short  poem;  but  he 
has  omitted  the  most  poetical  part  of  the  story,  the  return  of  Parb 
wounded,  her  cruelty  and  subsequent  repentance. 


230        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

campment  broken  up  and  the  fleet  gone,  concluded  the 
enemy  to  have  abandoned  the  siege.  The  gates  were 
thrown  open,  and  the  whole  population  issued  forth 
rejoicing  at  the  long-prohibited  liberty  of  passing  freely 
over  the  scene  of  the  late  encampment.  The  great 
horse  was  the  chief  object  of  curiosity.  All  wondered 
what  it  could  be  for.  Some  recommended  to  take  it 
into  the  city  as  a  trophy;  others  felt  afraid  of  it. 

While  they  hesitate,  Laocoon,  the  priest  of  Neptune 
exclaims,  "What  madness,  citizens,  is  this?  Have  you 
not  learned  enough  of  Grecian  fraud  to  be  on  your 
guard  against  it?  For  my  part,  I  fear  the  Greeks  even 
when  they  offer  gifts."  l  So  saying  he  threw  his  lance 
at  the  horse's  side.  It  struck,  and  a  hollow  sound 
reverberated  like  a  groan.  Then  perhaps  the  people 
might  have  taken  his  advice  and  destroyed  the  fatal 
horse  and  all  its  contents ;  but  just  at  that  moment  a 
group  of  people  appeared,  dragging  forward  one  who 
seemed  a  prisoner  and  a  Greek.  Stupefied  with  terror, 
he  was  brought  before  the  chiefs,  who  reassured  him, 
promising  that  his  life  should  be  spared  on  condition  of 
his  returning  true  answers  to  the  questions  asked  him. 
He  informed  them  that  he  was  a  Greek,  Sinon  by 
name,  and  that  in  consequence  of  the  malice  of  Ulysses 
he  had  been  left  behind  by  his  countrymen  at  their  de- 
parture. With  regard  to  the  wooden  horse,  he  told 
them  that  it  was  a  propitiatory  offering  to  Minerva, 
and  made  so  huge  for  the  express  purpose  of  preventing 
its  being  carried  within  the  city ;  for  Calchas  the  prophet 
had  told  them  that  if  the  Trojans  took  possession  of 
it  they  would  assuredly  triumph  over  the  Greeks.  This 
language  turned  the  tide  of  the  people's  feelings  and 
they  began  to  think  how  they  might  best  secure  the  mon- 
strous horse  and  the  favorable  auguries  connected  with 
it,  when  suddenly  a  prodigy  occurred  which  left  no 
room  to  doubt.  There  appeared,  advancing  over  the 
sea,  two  immense  serpents.  They  came  upon  the  land, 
and  the  crowd  fled  in  all  directions.  The  serpents  ad- 
vanced directly  to  the  spot  where  Laocoon  stood  with 
his  two  sons.  They  first  attacked  the  children,  winding 

1  See   Proverbial  Expressions. 


THE  FALL  OF  TROY  231 

round  their  bodies  and  breathing  their  pestilential  breath 
in  their  faces.  The  father,  attempting  to  rescue  them, 
is  next  seized  and  involved  in  the  serpents'  coils.  He 
struggles  to  tear  them  away,  but  they  overpower  all  his 
efforts  and  strangle  him  and  the  children  in  their  poison- 
ous folds.  This  event  was  regarded  as  a  clear  indication 
of  the  displeasure  of  the  gods  at  Laocoon's  irreverent 
treatment  of  the  wooden  horse,  which  they  no  longer 
hesitated  to  regard  as  a  sacred  object,  and  prepared  to 
introduce  with  due  solemnity  into  the  city.  This  was 
done  with  songs  and  triumphal  acclamations,  and  the 
day  closed  with  festivity.  In  the  night  the  armed  men 
who  were  enclosed  in  the  body  of  the  horse,  being  let 
out  by  the  traitor  Sinon,  opened  the  gates  of  the  city 
to  their  friends,  who  had  returned  under  cover  of  the 
night.  The  city  was  set  on  fire;  the  people,  overcome 
with  feasting  and  sleep,  put  to  the  sword,  and  Troy 
completely  subdued. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  groups  of  statuary  In  ex- 
istence is  that  of  Laocoon  and  his  children  in  the  em- 
brace of  the  serpents.  A  cast  of  it  is  owned  by  the  Bos- 
Ion  Athenaeum ;  the  original  is  in  the  Vatican  at  Rome. 
The  following  lines  are  from  the  "Childe  Harold"  oi 
Byron : 

"Now  turning  to  the  Vatican  go  see 
Laocoon's  torture  dignifying  pain; 
A  father's  love  and  mortal's  agony 
With  an  immortal's  patience  blending; — vain 
The  struggle!  vain  against  the  coiling  strain 
And  gripe  and  deepening  of  the  dragon's  grasp 
The  old  man's  clinch;  the  long  envenomed  chain 
Rivets  the  living  links ;  the  enormous  asp 
Enforces  pang  on  pang  and  stifles  gasp  on  gasp." 

The  comic  poets  will  also  occasionally  borrow  a  classi- 
cal allusion.  The  following  is  from  Swift's  "Descrip- 
tion of  a  City  Shower" : 

"Boxed  in  a  chair  the  beau  impatient  sits, 
While  spouts  run  clattering  o'er  the  roof  by  fits, 
And  ever  and  anon  with  frightful  din 
The  leather  sounds ;  he  trembles  from  within. 


232        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

So  when  Troy  chairmen  bore  the  wooden  steed 
Pregnant  with  Greeks  impatient  to  be  freed, 
(Those  bully  Greeks,  who,  as  the  moderns  do, 
Instead  of  paying  chairmen,  run  them  through)  ; 
Laocobn  struck  the  outside  with  a  spear. 
And  each  imprisoned  champion  quaked  with  fear." 

King  Priam  lived  to  see  the  downfall  of  his  kingdom 
and  was  slain  at  last  on  the  fatal  night  when  the  Greeks 
took  the  city.  He  had  armed  himself  and  was  about 
to  mingle  with  the  combatants,  but  was  prevailed  on  by 
Hecuba,  his  aged  queen,  to  take  refuge  with  herself 
and  his  daughters  as  a  suppliant  at  the  altar  of  Jupiter. 
While  there,  his  youngest  son  Polites,  pursued  by 
Pyrrhus,  the  son  of  Achilles,  rushed  in  wounded,  and 
expired  at  the  feet  of  his  father;  whereupon  Priam, 
overcome  with  indignation,  hurled  his  spear  with  feeble 
hand  against  Pyrrhus,1  and  was  forthwith  slain  by  him. 

Queen  Hecuba  and  her  daughter  Cassandra  were 
carried  captives  to  Greece.  Cassandra  had  been  loved 
by  Apollo,  and  he  gave  her  the  gift  of  prophecy;  but 
afterwards  offended  with  her,  he  rendered  the  gift  un- 
availing by  ordaining  that  her  predictions  should  never 
be  believed.  Polyxena,  another  daughter,  who  had 
been  loved  by  Achilles,  was  demanded  by  the  ghost  of 
that  warrior,  and  was  sacrificed  by  the  Greeks  upon  his 
tomb. 

MENELAUS  AND    HELEN 

Our  readers  will  be  anxious  to  know  the  fate  of 
Helen,  the  fair  but  guilty  occasion  of  so  much  slaughter. 
On  the  fall  of  Troy  Menelaus  recovered  possession  of 
his  wife,  who  had  not  ceased  to  love  him,  though  she 
had  yielded  to  the  might  of  Venus  and  deserted  him  for 
another.  After  the  death  of  Paris  she  aided  the  Greeks 
secretly  on  several  occasions,  and  in  particular  when 
Ulysses  and  Diomed  entered  the  city  in  disguise  to 
carry  off  the  Palladium.  She  saw  and  recognized 
Ulysses,  but  kept  the  secret  and  even  assisted  them  in 
obtaining  the  image.  Thus  she  became  reconciled  to 

11  Pyrrhus's  exclamation,  "Not  such  aid  nor  such  defenders  does  the 
time  require,"  has  become  proverbial.  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


AGAMEMNON,  ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA    233 

her  husband,  and  they  were  among  the  first  to  leave 
the  shores  of  Troy  for  their  native  land.  But  having 
incurred  the  displeasure  of  the  gods  they  were  driven  by 
storms  from  shore  to  shore  of  the  Mediterranean,  visit- 
ing Cyprus,  Phoenicia,  and  Egypt.  In  Egypt  they  were 
kindly  treated  and  presented  with  rich  gifts,  of  which 
Helen's  share  was  a  golden  spindle  and  a  basket  on 
wheels.  The  basket  was  to  hold  the  wool  and  spools 
for  the  queen's  work. 

Dyer,  in  his  poem  of  the  "Fleece,"  thus  alludes  to 
this  incident: 

".  .  .  many  yet  adhere 
To  the  ancient  distaff,  at  the  bosom  fixed, 
Casting  the  whirling  spindle  as  they  walk. 

This  was  of  old,  in  no  inglorious  days, 
The  mode  of  spinning,  when  the  Egyptian  prince 
A  golden  distaff  gave  that  beauteous  nymph, 
Too  beauteous  Helen;  no  uncourtly  gift" 

Milton  also  alludes  to  a  famous  recipe  for  an  invig- 
orating draught,  called  Nepenthe,  which  the  Egyptian 
queen  gave  to  Helen : 

"Not  that  Nepenthes  which  the  wife  of  Thone 
In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena, 
Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 
To  life  so  friendly  or  so  cool  to  thirst." 

— Comus. 

Menelaus  and  Helen  at  length  arrived  in  safety  at 
Sparta,  resumed  their  royal  dignity,  and  lived  and 
reigned  in  splendor;  and  when  Telemachus,  the  son  of 
Ulysses,  in  search  of  his  father,  arrived  at  Sparta,  he 
found  Menelaus  and  Helen  celebrating  the  marriage  of 
their  daughter  Hermione  to  Neoptolemus,  son  of 
Achilles. 

AGAMEMNON,   ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA 

Agamemnon,  the  general-in-chief  of  the  Greeks,  the 
brother  of  Menelaus,  and  who  had  been  drawn  into 
the  quarrel  to  avenge  his  brother's  wrongs,  not  his  own, 


234        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

was  not  so  fortunate  in  the  issue.  During  his  absence 
his  wife  Clytemnestra  had  been  false  to  him,  and  when 
his  return  was  expected,  she  with  her  paramour,  y£gis- 
thus,  laid  a  plan  for  his  destruction,  and  at  the  banquet 
given  to  celebrate  his  return,  murdered  him. 

It  was  intended  by  the  conspirators  to  slay  his  son 
Orestes  also,  a  lad  not  yet  old  enough  to  be  an  object 
of  apprehension,  but  from  whom,  if  he  should  be  suf- 
fered to  grow  up,  there  might  be  danger.  Electra,  the 
sister  of  Orestes,  saved  her  brother's  life  by  sending 
him  secretly  away  to  his  uncle  Strophius,  King  of 
Phocis.  In  the  palace  of  Strophius  Orestes  grew  up 
with  the  king's  son  Pylades,  and  formed  with  him  that 
ardent  friendship  which  has  become  proverbial.  Electra 
frequently  reminded  her  brother  by  messengers  of  the 
duty  of  avenging  his  father's  death,  and  when  grown  up 
he  consulted  the  oracle  of  Delphi,  which  confirmed  him 
in  his  design.  He  therefore  repaired  in  disguise  to 
Argos,  pretending  to  be  a  messenger  from  Strophius,  who 
had  come  to  announce  the  death  of  Orestes,  and  brought 
the  ashes  of  the  deceased  in  a  funeral  urn.  After  visit- 
ing his  father's  tomb  and  sacrificing  upon  it,  according 
to  the  rites  of  the  ancients,  he  made  himself  known  to 
his  sister  Electra,  and  soon  after  slew  both  ^Egisthus 
and  Clytemnestra. 

This  revolting  act,  the  slaughter  of  a  mother  by  her 
son,  though  alleviated  by  the  guilt  of  the  victim  and 
the  express  command  of  the  gods,  did  not  fail  to  awaken 
in  the  breasts  of  the  ancients  the  same  abhorrence  that 
it  does  in  ours.  The  Eumenides,  avenging  deities, 
seized  upon  Orestes,  and  drove  him  frantic  from  land 
to  land.  Pylades  accompanied  him  in  his  wanderings 
and  watched  over  him.  At  length,  in  answer  to  a  second 
appeal  to  the  oracle,  he  was  directed  to  go  to  Tauris  in 
Scythia,  and  to  bring  thence  a  statue  of  Diana  which 
was  believed  to  have  fallen  from  heaven.  Accordingly 
Orestes  and  Pylades  went  to  Tauris,  where  the  barbar- 
ous people  were  accustomed  to  sacrifice  to  the  goddess 
all  strangers  who  fell  into  their  hands.  The  two  friends 
were  seized  and  carried  bound  to  the  temple  to  be  made 
victims.  But  the  priestess  of  Diana  was  no  other  than 


AGAMEMNON,  ORESTES,  AND  ELECTRA    235 

Iphigenia,  the  sister  of  Orestes,  who,  our  readers  will 
remember,  was  snatched  away  by  Diana  at  the  moment 
when  she  was  about  to  be  sacrificed.  Ascertaining  from 
the  prisoners  who  they  were,  Iphigenia  disclosed  herself 
to  them,  and  the  three  made  their  escape  with  the  statue 
of  the  goddess,  and  returned  to  Mycenae. 

But  Orestes  was  not  yet  relieved  from  the  vengeance 
of  the  Erinyes.  At  length  he  took  refuge  with  Minerva 
at  Athens.  The  goddess  afforded  him  protection,  and 
appointed  the  court  of  Areopagus  to  decide  his  fate. 
The  Erinyes  brought  forward  their  accusation,  and 
Orestes  made  the  command  of  the  Delphic  oracle  his 
excuse.  When  the  court  voted  and  the  voices  were 
equally  divided,  Orestes  was  acquitted  by  the  command 
of  Minerva. 

Byron,  in  "Childe  Harold/'  Canto  IV.,  alludes  to  the 
story  of  Orestes : 

"O  thou  who  never  yet  of  human  wrong 
Left  the  unbalanced  scale,  great  Nemesis! 
Thou  who  didst  call  the  Furies  from  the  abyss, 
And  round  Orestes  bade  them  howl  and  hiss, 
For  that  unnatural  retribution, — just, 
Had  it  but  been  from  hands  less  near, — in  this, 
Thy  former  realm,  I  call  thee  from  the  dust !" 

One  of  the  most  pathetic  scenes  in  the  ancient  drama 
is  that  in  which  Sophocles  represents  the  meeting  of 
Orestes  and  Electra,  on  his  return  from  Phocis.  Ores- 
tes, mistaking  Electra  for  one  of  the  domestics,  and 
desirous  of  keeping  his  arrival  a  secret  till  the  hour  of 
vengeance  should  arrive,  produces  the  urn  in  which 
his  ashes  are  supposed  to  rest.  Electra,  believing  him 
to  be  really  dead,  takes  the  urn  and,  embracing  it, 
pours  forth  her  grief  in  language  full  of  tenderness  and 
despair. 

Milton,  in  one  of  his  sonnets,  says: 

".  .  .  The  repeated  air 
Of  sad  Electra's  poet  had  the  power 
To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare/' 


236        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

This  alludes  to  the  story  that  when,  on  one  occasion, 
the  city  of  Athens  was  at  the  mercy  of  her  Spartan  foes, 
and  it  was  proposed  to  destroy  it,  the  thought  was  re- 
jected upon  the  accidental  quotation,  by  some  one,  of 
a  chorus  of  Euripides. 

TROY 


The  facts  relating  to  the  city  of  Troy  are  still  unknown 
to  history.  Antiquarians  have  long  sought  for  the  actual 
city  and  some  record  of  its  rulers.  The  most  interesting 
explorations  were  those  conducted  about  1890  by  the  Ger- 
man scholar,  Henry  Schliemann,  who  believed  that  at  the 
mound  of  Hissarlik,  the  traditional  site  of  Troy,  he  had 
uncovered  the  ancient  capital.  Schliemann  excavated 
down  below  the  ruins  of  three  or  four  settlements,  each 
revealing  an  earlier  civilization,  and  finally  came  upon 
some  royal  jewels  and  other  relics  said  to  be  "Priam's 
Treasure."  Scholars  are  by  no  means  agreed  as  to  the 
historic  value  of  these  discoveries. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

ADVENTURES   OF   ULYSSES THE    LOTUS-EATERS — CYCLOPES 

— CIRCE — SIRENS — SCYLLA    AND    CHARYBDIS — CALYPSO 

RETURN    OF   ULYSSES 

THE  romantic  poem  of  the  Odyssey  is  now  to  engage 
our  attention.  It  narrates  the  wanderings  of  Ulysses 
(Odysseus  in  the  Greek  language)  in  his  return  from 
Troy  to  his  own  kingdom  Ithaca. 

From  Troy  the  vessels  first  made  land  at  Ismarus, 
city  of  the  Ciconians,  where,  in  a  skirmish  with  the 
inhabitants,  Ulysses  lost  six  men  from  each  ship.  Sail- 
ing thence,  they  were  overtaken  by  a  storm  which  drove 


RETURN  OF  ULYSSES  237 

them  for  nine  days  along  the  sea  till  they  reached  the 
country  of  the  Lotus-eaters.  Here,  after  watering, 
Ulysses  sent  three  of  his  men  to  discover  who  the  in- 
habitants were.  These  men  on  coming  among  the  Lotus- 
eaters  were  kindly  entertained  by  them,  and  were  given 
some  of  their  own  food,  the  lotus-plant,  to  eat.  The 
effect  of  this  food  was  such  that  those  who  partook  of 
it  lost  all  thoughts  of  home  and  wished  to  remain  in 
that  country.  It  was  by  main  force  that  Ulysses  dragged 
these  men  away,  and  he  was  even  obliged  to  tie  them 
under  the  benches  of  the  ships.1 

They  next  arrived  at  the  country  of  the  Cyclopes. 
The  Cyclopes  were  giants,  who  inhabited  an  island  of 
which  they  were  the  only  possessors.  The  name  means 
"round  eye/'  and  these  giants  were  so  called  because 
they  had  but  one  eye,  and  that  placed  in  the  middle  of 
the  forehead.  They  dwelt  in  caves  and  fed  on  the  wild 
productions  of  the  island  and  on  what  their  flocks 
yielded,  for  they  were  shepherds.  Ulysses  left  the 
main  body  of  his  ships  at  anchor,  and  with  one  vessel 
went  to  the  Cyclopes'  island  to  explore  for  supplies.  He 
landed  with  his  companions,  carrying  with  them  a  jar  of 
wine  for  a  present,  and  coming  to  a  large  cave  they 
entered  it,  and  finding  no  one  within  examined  its  con- 
tents. They  found  it  stored  with  the  richest  of  the 
flock,  quantities  of  cheese,  pails  and  bowls  of  milk, 
lambs  and  kids  in  their  pens,  all  in  nice  order.  Presently 
arrived  the  master  of  the  cave,  Polyphemus,  bearing  an 
immense  bundle  of  firewood,  which  he  threw  down  be- 
fore the  cavern's  mouth.  He  then  drove  into  the  cave 

1  Tennyson  in  the  "Lotus-eaters"  has  charmingly  expressed  the  dreamy> 
'nnguid   feeling  which   the   lotus   food   is  said   to   have  produced. 
"How  sweet   it  were,   hearing  the  downward  stream 
With    half-shut    eyes    ever    to    seem 
Falling  asleep  in  a  half  dream! 
To  dream  and  dream,  like  yonder  amber  light 
Which    will    not    leave    the    myrrh-bush    on    the    height; 
To  hear  each  others'  whispered  speech; 
Eating   the    Lotos,    day    by    day, 
To   watch   the   crisping  ripples   on  the  beach, 
And  tender  curving  lines  of  creamy  spray: 
To  lend  our  hearts  and  spirits  wholly 
To  the  influence  of  mild-minded   melancholy; 
To  muse  and  brood  and  live  again  in  memory, 
With  those  old  faces  of  our  infancy 
Heaped  over  with  a  mound  of  grass, 
Two  handfuls  of  white  dust,  shut  in  an  urn  of  bras*."* 


238        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  sheep  and  goats  to  be  milked,  and,  entering,  rolled 
to  the  cave's  mouth  an  enormous  rock,  that  twenty  oxen 
could  not  draw.  Next  he  sat  down  and  milked  his 
ewes,  preparing  a  part  for  cheese,  and  setting  the  rest 
aside  for  his  customary  drink.  Then,  turning  round 
his  great  eye,  he  discerned  the  strangers,  and  growled 
out  to  them,  demanding  who  they  were,  and  where  from. 
Ulysses  replied  most  humbly,  stating  that  they  were 
Greeks,  from  the  great  expedition  that  had  lately  won 
so  much  glory  in  the  conquest  of  Troy;  that  they  were 
now  on  their  way  home,  and  finished  by  imploring  his 
hospitality  in  the  name  of  the  gods.  Polyphemus 
deigned  no  answer,  but  reaching  out  his  hand  seized 
two  of  the  Greeks,  whom  he  hurled  against  the  side  of 
the  cave,  and  dashed  out  their  brains.  He  proceeded 
to  devour  them  with  great  relish,  and  having  made  a 
hearty  meal,  stretched  himself  out  on  the  floor  to  sleep. 
Ulysses  was  tempted  to  seize  the  opportunity  and  plunge 
his  sword  into  him  as  he  slept,  but  recollected  that  it 
would  only  expose  them  all  to  certain  destruction,  as  the 
rock  with  which  the  giant  had  closed  up  the  door  was  far 
beyond  their  power  to  remove,  and  they  would  there- 
fore be  in  hopeless  imprisonment.  Next  morning  the 
giant  seized  two  more  of  the  Greeks,  and  despatched 
them  in  the  same  manner  as  their  companions,  feasting 
on  their  flesh  till  no  fragment  was  left.  He  then  moved 
away  the  rock  from  the  door,  drove  out  his  flocks,  and 
went  out,  carefully  replacing  the  barrier  after  him. 
When  he  was  gone  Ulysses  planned  how  he  might  take 
vengeance  for  his  murdered  friends,  and  effect  his 
escape  with  his  surviving  companions.  He  made  his  men 
prepare  a  massive  bar  of  wood  cut  by  the  Cyclops  for 
a  staff,  which  they  found  in  the  cave.  They  sharpened 
the  end  of  it,  and  seasoned  it  in  the  fire,  and  hid  it 
under  the  straw  on  the  cavern  floor.  Then  four  of 
the  boldest  were  selected,  with  whom  Ulysses  joined 
himself  as  a  fifth.  The  Cyclops  came  home  at  evening, 
rolled  away  the  stone  and  drove  in  his  flock  as  usual. 
After  milking  them  and  making  his  arrangements  as  be- 
fore, he  seized  two  more  of  Ulysses'  companions  and 
dashed  their  brains  out,  and  made  his  evening  meal 


RETURN  OF  ULYSSES  239 

upon  them  as  he  had  on  the  others.  After  he  had 
supped,  Ulysses  approaching  him  handed  him  a  bowl  of 
wine,  saying,  "Cyclops,  this  is  wine;  taste  and  drink 
after  thy  meal  of  men's  flesh."  He  took  and  drank  it, 
ana  was  hugely  delighted  with  it,  and  called  for  more. 
Ulysses  supplied  him  once  again,  which  pleased  the  giant 
so  much  that  he  promised  him  as  a  favor  that  he  should 
be  the  last  of  the  party  devoured.  He  asked  his  name, 
to  which  Ulysses  replied,  "My  name  is  Noman." 

After  his  supper  the  giant  lay  down  to  repose,  and 
was  soon  sound  asleep.  Then  Ulysses  with  his  four 
select  friends  thrust  the  end  of  the  stake  into  the  fire 
till  it  was  all  one  burning  coal,  then  poising  it  exactly 
above  the  giant's  only  eye,  they  buried  it  deeply  into 
the  socket,  twirling  it  round  as  a  carpenter  does  his 
auger.  The  howling  monster  with  his  outcry  filled  the 
cavern,  and  Ulysses  with  his  aids  nimbly  got  out  of 
his  way  and  concealed  themselves  in  the  cave.  He, 
bellowing,  called  aloud  on  all  the  Cyclopes  dwelling  in 
the  caves  around  him,  far  and  near.  They  on  his  cry 
flocked  round  the  den,  and  inquired  what  grievous  hurt 
had  caused  him  to  sound  such  an  alarm  and  break  their 
slumbers.  He  replied,  "O  friends,  I  die,  and  Noman 
gives  the  blow."  They  answered,  "If  no  man  hurts  thee 
it  is  the  stroke  of  Jove,  and  thou  must  bear  it."  So 
saying,  they  left  him  groaning. 

Next  morning  the  Cyclops  rolled  away  the  stone  to 
let  his  flock  out  to  pasture,  but  planted  himself  in  the 
door  of  the  cave  to  feel  of  all  as  they  went  out,  that 
Ulysses  and  his  men  should  not  escape  with  them.  But 
Ulysses  had  made  his  men  harness  the  rams  of  the 
flock  three  abreast,  with  osiers  which  they  found  on  the 
floor  of  the  cave.  To  the  middle  ram  of  the  three  one 
of  the  Greeks  suspended  himself,  so  protected  by  the 
exterior  rams  on  either  side.  As  they  passed,  the  giant 
felt  of  the  animals'  backs  and  sides,  but  never  thought 
of  their  bellies ;  so  the  men  all  passed  safe,  Ulysses  him- 
self being  on  the  last  one  that  passed.  When  they  had 
got  a  few  paces  from  the  cavern,  Ulysses  and  his  friends 
released  themselves  from  their  rams,  and  drove  a  good 
part  of  the  flock  down  to  the  shore  to  their  boat.  They 


240        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

put  them  aboard  with  all  haste,  then  pushed  off  from 
the  shore,  and  when  at  a  safe  distance  Ulysses  shouted 
out,  "Cyclops,  the  gods  have  well  requited  thee  for  thy 
atrocious  deeds.  Know  it  is  Ulysses  to  whom  thou 
owest  thy  shameful  loss  of  sight/'  The  Cyclops,  hear- 
ing this,  seized  a  rock  that  projected  from  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  and  rending  it  from  its  bed,  he  lifted 
it  high  in  the  air,  then  exerting  all  his  force,  hurled  it 
in  the  direction  of  the  voice.  Down  came  the  mass, 
just  clearing  the  vessel's  stern.  The  ocean,  at  the  plunge 
of  the  huge  rock,  heaved  the  ship  towards  the  land,  so 
that  it  barely  escaped  being  swamped  by  the  waves. 
When  they  had  with  the  utmost  difficulty  pulled  off 
shore,  Ulysses  was  about  to  hail  the  giant  again,  but 
his  friends  besought  him  not  to  do  so.  He  could  not 
forbear,  however,  letting  the  giant  know  that  they  had 
escaped  his  missile,  but  waited  till  they  had  reached  a 
safer  distance  than  before.  The  giant  answered  them 
with  curses,  but  Ulysses  and  his  friends  plied  their  oars 
vigorously,  and  soon  regained  their  companions. 

Ulysses  next  arrived  at  the  island  of  ^Eolus.  To  this 
monarch  Jupiter  had  intrusted  the  government  of  the 
winds,  to  send  them  forth  or  retain  them  at  his  will. 
He  treated  Ulysses  hospitably,  and  at  his  departure  gave 
him,  tied  up  in  a  leathern  bag,  with  a  silver  string, 
such  winds  as  might  be  hurtful  and  dangerous,  com- 
manding fair  winds  to  blow  the  barks  towards  their  coun- 
try. Nine  days  they  sped  before  the  wind,  and  all  that 
time  Ulysses  had  stood  at  the  helm,  without  sleep.  At 
last  quite  exhausted  he  lay  down  to  sleep.  While  he 
slept,  the  crew  conferred  together  about  the  mysterious 
bag,  and  concluded  it  must  contain  treasures  given  by 
the  hospitable  king  ^Eolus  to  their  commander.  Tempt- 
ed to  secure  some  portion  for  themselves,  they  loosed 
the  string,  when  immediately  the  winds  rushed  forth. 
The  ships  were  driven  far  from  their  course,  and  back 
again  to  the  island  they  had  just  left,  ^olus  was  so 
indignant  at  their  folly  that  he  refused  to  assist  them 
further,  and  they  were  obliged  to  labor  over  their  course 
once  more  by  means  of  their  oars. 


THE  L^STRYGONIANS  241 


THE   L^ESTRYGONIANS 

Their  next  adventure  was  with  the  barbarous  tribe 
of  Laestrygonians.  The  vessels  all  pushed  into  the  har- 
bor, tempted  by  the  secure  appearance  of  the  cove,  com- 
pletely land-locked;  only  Ulysses  moored  his  vessel 
without.  As  soon  as  the  Laestrygonians  found  the  ships 
completely  in  their  power  they  attacked  them,  heaving 
huge  stones  which  broke  and  overturned  them,  and  with 
their  spears  despatched  the  seamen  as  they  struggled 
in  the  water.  All  the  vessels  with  their  crews  were  de- 
stroyed, except  Ulysses'  own  ship,  which  had  remained 
outside,  and  finding  no  safety  but  in  flight,  he  exhorted 
his  men  to  ply  their  oars  vigorously,  and  they  escaped 

With  grief  for  their  slain  companions  mixed  with  joy 
at  their  own  escape,  they  pursued  their  way  till  they 
arrived  at  the  ^Eaean  isle,  where  Circe  dwelt,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  sun.  Landing  here,  Ulysses  climbed  a  hill, 
and  gazing  round  saw  no  signs  of  habitation  except  in 
one  spot  at  the  centre  of  the  island,  where  he  perceived 
a  palace  embowered  with  trees.  He  sent  forward  one- 
half  of  his  crew,  under  the  command  of  Eurylochus,  to 
see  what  prospect  of  hospitality  they  might  find.  As 
they  approached  the  palace,  they  found  themselves  sur- 
rounded by  lions,  tigers,  and  wolves,  not  fierce,  but  tamed 
by  Circe's  art,  for  she  was  a  powerful  magician.  All 
these  animals  had  once  been  men,  but  had  been  changed 
by  Circe's  enchantments  into  the  forms  of  beasts.  The 
sounds  of  soft  music  were  heard  from  within,  and  a 
sweet  female  voice  singing.  Eurylochus  called  aloud 
and  the  goddess  came  forth  and  invited  them  in;  they 
all  gladly  entered  except  Eurylochus,  who  suspected  dan- 
ger. The  goddess  conducted  her  guests  to  a  seat,  and 
had  them  served  with  wine  and  other  delicacies.  When 
they  had  feasted  heartily,  she  touched  them  one  by  one 
with  her  wand,  and  they  became  immediately  changed 
into  swine,  in  "head,  body,  voice,  and  bristles,"  yet  with 
their  intellects  as  before.  She  shut  them  in  her  sties 
and  supplied  them  with  acorns  and  such  other  things 
as  swine  love. 

Eurylochus   hurried  back  to  the  ship  and  told  the 


242        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

tale.  Ulysses  thereupon  determined  to  go  himself,  and 
try  if  by  any  means  he  might  deliver  his  companions. 
As  he  strode  onward  alone,  he  met  a  youth  who  ad- 
dressed him  familiarly,  appearing  to  be  acquainted  with 
his  adventures.  He  announced  himself  as  Mercury,  and 
informed  Ulysses  of  the  arts  of  Circe,  and  of  the  dan- 
ger of  approaching  her.  As  Ulysses  was  not  to  be  dis- 
suaded from  his  attempt,  Mercury  provided  him  with 
a  sprig  of  the  plant  Moly,  of  wonderful  power  to  resist 
sorceries,  and  instructed  him  how  to  act.  Ulysses  pro- 
ceeded, and  reaching  the  palace  was  courteously  received 
by  Circe,  who  entertained  him  as  she  had  done  his  com- 
panions, and  after  he  had  eaten  and  drank,  touched 
him  with  her  wand,  saying,  "Hence,  seek  the  sty  and 
wallow  with  thy  friends."  But  he,  instead  of  obeying, 
drew  his  sword  and  rushed  upon  her  with  fury  in  his 
countenance.  She  fell  on  her  knees  and  begged  for 
mercy.  He  dictated  a  solemn  oath  that  she  would  re- 
lease his  companions  and  practise  no  further  harm 
against  him  or  them;  and  she  repeated  it,  at  the  same 
time  promising  to  dismiss  them  all  in  safety  after  hos- 
pitably entertaining  them.  She  was  as  good  as  her 
word.  The  men  were  restored  to  their  shapes,  the  rest 
of  the  crew  summoned  from  the  shore,  and  the  whole 
magnificently  entertained  day  after  day,  till  Ulysses 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  native  land,  and  to  have 
reconciled  himself  to  an  inglorious  life  of  ease  and 
pleasure. 

At  length  his  companions  recalled  him  to  nobler  sen- 
timents, and  he  received  their  admonition  gratefully. 
Circe  aided  their  departure,  and  instructed  them  how  to 
pass  safely  by  the  coast  of  the  Sirens.  The  Sirens  were 
sea-nymphs  who  had  the  power  of  charming  by  their 
song  all  who  heard  them,  so  that  the  unhappy  mariners 
were  irresistibly  impelled  to  cast  themselves  into  the  sea 
to  their  destruction.  Circe  directed  Ulysses  to  fill  the 
ears  of  his  seamen  with  wax,  so  that  they  should  not 
hear  the  strain ;  and  to  cause  himself  to  be  bound  to  the 
mast,  and  his  people  to  be  strictly  enjoined,  whatever 
he  might  say  or  do,  by  no  means  to  release  him  till  they 
should  have  passed  the  Sirens'  island.  Ulysses  obeyed 


SCYLLA  AND  CHARYBDIS  243 

these  directions.  He  filled  the  ears  of  his  people  with 
wax,  and  suffered  them  to  bind  him  with  cords  firmly 
to  the  mast.  As  they  approached  the  Sirens'  island, 
the  sea  was  calm,  and  over  the  waters  came  the  notes  of 
music  so  ravishing  and  attractive  that  Ulysses  struggled 
to  get  loose,  and  by  cries  and  signs  to  his  people  begged 
to  be  released;  but  they,  obedient  to  his  previous  orders, 
sprang  forward  and  bound  him  still  faster.  They  held 
on  their  course,  and  the  music  grew  fainter  till  it  ceased 
to  be  heard,  when  with  joy  Ulysses  gave  his  companions 
the  signal  to  unseal  their  ears,  and  they  relieved  him 
from  his  bonds. 

The  imagination  of  a  modern  poet,  Keats,  has  dis- 
covered for  us  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  the 
brains  of  the  victims  of  Circe,  after  their  transforma- 
tion. In  his  "Endymion"  he  represents  one  of  them,  a 
monarch  in  the  guise  of  an  elephant,  addressing  the  sor- 
ceress in  human  language,  thus : 

"I  sue  not  for  my  happy  crown  again ; 
I  sue  not  for  my  phalanx  on  the  plain ; 
I  sue  rot  for  my  lone,  my  widowed  wife; 
I  sue  not  for  my  ruddy  drops  of  life, 
My  children  fair,  my  lovely  girls  and  boys ; 
I  will  forget  them;  I  will  pass  these  joys, 
Ask  nought  so  heavenward ;  so  too — too  high ; 
Only  I  pray,  as  fairest  boon,  to  die ; 
To  be  delivered  from  this  cumbrous  flesh, 
From  this  gross,  detestable,   filthy   mesh, 
And  merely  given  to  the  cold,  bleak  air. 
Have  mercy,  goddess!     Circe,   feel  my  prayer!" 

SCYLLA   AND   CHARYBDIS 

Ulysses  had  been  warned  by  Circe  of  the  two  mon- 
sters Scylla  and  Charybdis.  We  have  already  met  with 
Scylla  in  the  story  of  Glaucus,  and  remember  that  she 
was  once  a  beautiful  maiden  and  was  changed  into  a 
snaky  monster  by  Circe.  She  dwelt  in  a  cave  high  up  on 
the  cliff,  from  whence  she  was  accustomed  to  thrust 
forth  her  long  necks  (for  she  had  six  heads),  and  in 
each  of  her  mouths  to  seize  one  of  the  crew  of  every 
vessel  passing  within  reach.  The  other  terror,  Charyb- 


244        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

dis,  was  a  gulf,  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  water.  Thrice 
each  day  the  water  rushed  into  a  frightful  chasm,  and 
thrice  was  disgorged.  Any  vessel  coming  near  the  whirl- 
pool when  the  tide  was  rushing  in  must  inevitably  be 
ingulfed;  not  Neptune  himself  could  save  it. 

On  approaching  the  haunt  of  the  dread  monsters, 
Ulysses  kept  strict  watch  to  discover  them.  The  roar 
of  the  waters  as  Charybdis  ingulfed  them,  gave  warn- 
ing at  a  distance,  but  Scylla  could  nowhere  be  discerned. 
While  Ulysses  and  his  men  watched  with  anxious  eyes 
the  dreadful  whirlpool,  they  were  not  equally  on  their 
guard  from  the  attack  of  Scylla,  and  the  monster,  dart- 
ing forth  her  snaky  heads,  caught  six  of  his  men,  and 
bore  them  away,  shrieking,  to  her  den.  It  was  the  sad- 
dest sight  Ulysses  had  yet  seen;  to  behold  his  friends 
thus  sacrificed  and  hear  their  cries,  unable  to  afford  them 
any  assistance. 

Circe  had  warned  him  of  another  danger.  After  pass- 
ing Scylla  and  Charybdis  the  next  land  he  would  make 
was  Thrinakia,  an  island  whereon  were  pastured  the 
cattle  of  Hyperion,  the  Sun,  tended  by  his  daughters 
Lampetia  and  Phaethusa.  These  flocks  must  not  be  vio- 
lated, whatever  the  wants  of  the  voyagers  might  be.  If 
this  injunction  were  transgressed  destruction  was  sure 
to  fall  on  the  offenders. 

Ulysses  would  willingly  have  passed  the  island  of 
the  Sun  without  stopping,  but  his  companions  so  ur- 
gently pleaded  for  the  rest  and  refreshment  that  would 
be  derived  from  anchoring  and  passing  the  night  on 
shore,  that  Ulysses  yielded.  He  bound  them,  however, 
with  an  oath  that  they  would  not  touch  one  of  the 
animals  of  the  sacred  flocks  and  herds,  but  content 
themselves  with  what  provision  they  yet  had  left  of  the 
supply  which  Circe  had  put  on  board.  So  long  as  this 
supply  lasted  the  people  kept  their  oath,  but  contrary 
winds  detained  them  at  the  island  for  a  month,  and  after 
consuming  all  their  stock  of  provisions,  they  were  forced 
to  rely  upon  the  birds  and  fishes  they  could  catch4 
Famine  pressed  them,  and  at  length  one  day,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  Ulysses,  they  slew  some  of  the  cattle,  vainly 
attempting  to  make  amends  for  the  deed  by  offering 


CALYPSO  245 

from  them  a  portion  to  the  offended  powers.  Ulysses, 
on  his  return  to  the  shore,  was  horror-struck  at  per- 
ceiving what  they  had  done,  and  the  more  so  on  account 
of  the  portentous  signs  which  followed.  The  skins  crept 
on  the  ground,  and  the  joints  of  meat  lowed  on  the  spit? 
while  roasting. 

The  wind  becoming  fair  they  sailed  from  the  island. 
They  had  not  gone  far  when  the  weather  changed, 
and  a  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  ensued.  A  stroke 
of  lightning  shattered  their  mast,  which  in  its  fall  killed 
the  pilot.  At  last  the  vessel  itself  came  to  pieces.  The 
keel  and  mast  floating  side  by  side,  Ulysses  formed  of 
them  a  raft,  to  which  he  clung,  and,  the  wind  changing, 
the  waves  bore  him  to  Calypso's  island.  All  the  rest  of 
the  crew  perished. 

The  following  allusion  to  the  topics  we  have  just  been 
considering  is  from  Milton's  "Comus,"  line  252: 

"...  I  have  often  heard 
My  mother  Circe  and  the  Sirens  three, 
Amidst   the   flowery-kirtled   Naiades, 
Culling  their  potent  herbs  and  baneful  drugs, 
Who  as  they  sung  would  take  the  prisoned  soul 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium.     Scylla  wept, 
And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 
And  fell  Charybdis  murmured  soft  applause." 

Scylla  and  Charybdis  have  become  proverbial,  to 
denote  opposite  dangers  which  beset  one's  course.  See 
Proverbial  Expressions. 

CALYPSO 

Calypso  was  a  sea-nymph,  which  name  denotes  a 
numerous  class  of  female  divinities  of  lower  rank,  yet 
sharing  many  of  the  attributes  of  the  gods.  Calypso 
received  Ulysses  hospitably,  entertained  him  magnifi- 
cently, became  enamoured  of  him,  and  wished  to  retain 
him  forever,  conferring  on  him  immortality.  But  he 
persisted  in  his  resolution  to  return  to  his  country  and 
his  wife  and  son.  Calypso  at  last  received  the  com- 
mand of  Jove  to  dismiss  him.  Mercury  brought  the 


246        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

message  to  her,  and  found  her  in  her  grotto,  which  is 
thus  described  by  Homer : 

"A  garden  vine,  luxuriant  on  all  sides, 
Mantled  the  spacious  cavern,  cluster-hung 
Profuse;  four  fountains  of  serenest  lymph, 
Their  sinuous  course  pursuing  side  by  side, 
Strayed  all  around,  and  everywhere  appeared 
Meadows  of  softest  verdure,  purpled  o'er 
With  violets;  it  was  a  scene  to  fill 
A  god  from  heaven  with  wonder  and  delight." 

Calypso  with  much  reluctance  proceeded  to  obey  the 
commands  of  Jupiter.  She  supplied  Ulysses  with  the 
means  of  constructing  a  raft,  provisioned  it  well  for  him, 
and  gave  him  a  favoring  gale.  He  sped  on  his  course 
prosperously  for  many  days,  till  at  length,  when  in 
sight  of  land,  a  storm  arose  that  broke  his  mast,  and 
threatened  to  rend  the  raft  asunder.  In  this  crisis  he 
was  seen  by  a  compassionate  sea-nymph,  who  in  the 
form  of  a  cormorant  alighted  on  the  raft,  and  presented 
him  a  girdle,  directing  him  to  bind  it  beneath  his  breast, 
and  if  he  should  be  compelled  to  trust  himself  to  the 
waves,  it  would  buoy  him  up  and  enable  him  by  swim- 
ming to  reach  the  land. 

Fenelon,  in  his  romance  of  "Telemachus,"  has  given 
us  the  adventures  of  the  son  of  Ulysses  in  search  of  his 
father.  Among  other  places  at  which  he  arrived,  fol- 
lowing on  his  father's  footsteps,  was  Calypso's  isle,  and, 
as  in  the  former  case,  the  goddess  tried  every  art  to 
keep  him  with  her,  and  offered  to  share  her  immortality 
with  him.  But  Minerva,  who  in  the  shape  of  Mentor 
accompanied  him  and  governed  all  his  movements, 
made  him  repel  her  allurements,  and  when  no  other 
means  of  escape  could  be  found,  the  two  friends  leaped 
from  a  cliff  into  the  sea,  and  swam  to  a  vessel  which 
lay  becalmed  off  shore.  Byron  alludes  to  this  leap  of 
Telemachus  and  Mentor  in  the  following  stanza: 

"But  not  in  silence  pass  Calypso's  isles, 
The  sister  tenants  of  the  middle  deep; 
There  for  the  weary  still  a  haven  smiles, 
Though  the  fair  goddess  long  has  ceased  to  weep, 


THE  PHyEACIANS  247 

And  o'er  her  cliffs  a  fruitless  watch  to  keep 
For  him  who  dared  prefer  a  mortal  bride. 
Here  too  his  boy  essayed  the  dreadful  leap, 
Stern  Mentor  urged  from  high  to  yonder  tide; 
While  thus  of  both  bereft  the  nymph-queen  doubly  sighed." 


CHAPTER    XXX 

THE    PH^ACIANS FATE    OF   THE   SUITORS 

THE   PH^ACIANS 

ULYSSES  clung  to  the  raft  while  any  of  its  timbers 
kept  together,  and  when  it  no  longer  yielded  him  sup- 
port, binding  the  girdle  around  him,  he  swam.  Min- 
erva smoothed  the  billows  before  him  and  sent  him  a 
wind  that  rolled  the  waves  towards  the  shore.  The 
surf  beat  high  on  the  rocks  and  seemed  to  forbid  ap- 
proach; but  at  length  finding  calm  water  at  the  mouth 
of  a  gentle  stream,  he  landed,  spent  with  toil,  breathless 
and  speechless  and  almost  dead.  After  some  time,  re- 
viving, he  kissed  the  soil,  rejoicing,  yet  at  a  loss  what 
course  to  take.  At  a  short  distance  he  perceived  a  wood, 
to  which  he  turned  his  steps.  There,  finding  a  covert 
sheltered  by  intermingling  branches  alike  from  the  sun 
and  the  rain,  he  collected  a  pile  of  leaves  and  formed 
a  bed,  on  which  he  stretched  himself,  and  heaping  the 
leaves  over  him,  fell  asleep. 

The  land  where  he  was  thrown  was  Scheria,  the  coun- 
try of  the  Phseacians.  These  people  dwelt  originally 
near  the  Cyclopes;  but  being  oppressed  by  that  savage 
race,  they  migrated  to  the  isle  of  Scheria,  under  the 
conduct  of  Nausithous,  their  king.  They  were,  the  poet 
tells  us,  a  people  akin  to  the  gods,  who  appeared  mani- 
festly and  feasted  among  them  when  they  offered  sac- 
rifices, and  did  not  conceal  themselves  from  solitary 
wayfarers  when  they  met  them.  They  had  abundance 
of  wealth  and  lived  in  the  enjoyment  of  it  undisturbed 
by  the  alarms  of  war,  for  as  they  dwelt  remote  from 
gain-seeking  man,  no  enemy  ever  approached  their 


248        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

shores,  and  they  did  not  even  require  to  make  use  of 
bows  and  quivers.  Their  chief  employment  was 
navigation.  Their  ships,  which  went  with  the  velocity 
T)f  birds,  were  endued  with  intelligence;  they  knew 
every  port  and  needed  no  pilot.  Alcinoiis,  the  son 
of  Nausithoiis,  was  now  their  king,  a  wise  and  just 
sovereign,  beloved  by  his  people. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  very  night  on  which  Ulysses 
was  cast  ashore  on  the  Phseacian  island,  and  while  he 
lay  sleeping  on  his  bed  of  leaves,  Nausicaa,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  king,  had  a  dream  sent  by  Minerva,  remind- 
ing her  that  her  wedding-day  was  not  far  distant,  and 
that  it  would  be  but  a  prudent  preparation  for  that  event 
to  have  a  general  washing  of  the  clothes  of  the  family. 
This  was  no  slight  affair,  for  the  fountains  were  at  some 
distance,  and  the  garments  must  be  carried  thither.  On 
awaking,  the  princess  hastened  to  her  parents  to  tell 
them  what  was  on  her  mind;  not  alluding  to  her  wed- 
ding-day, but  finding  other  reasons  equally  good.  Her 
father  readily  assented  and  ordered  the  grooms  to  fur- 
nish forth  a  wagon  for  the  purpose.  The  clothes  were 
put  therein,  and  the  queen  mother  placed  in  the  wagon, 
likewise,  an  abundant  supply  of  food  and  wine.  The 
princess  took  her  seat  and  plied  the  lash,  her  attendant 
virgins  following  her  on  foot.  Arrived  at  the  river  side, 
they  turned  out  the  mules  to  graze,  and  unlading  the 
carriage,  bore  the  garments  down  to  the  water,  and 
working  with  cheerfulness  and  alacrity  soon  despatched 
their  labor.  Then  having  spread  the  garments  on  the 
shore  to  dry,  and  having  themselves  bathed,  they  sat 
down  to  enjoy  their  meal;  after  which  they  rose  and 
amused  themselves  with  a  game  of  ball,  the  princess 
singing  to  them  while  they  played.  But  when  they  had 
refolded  the  apparel  and  were  about  to  resume  their 
way  to  the  town,  Minerva  caused  the  ball  thrown  by 
the  princess  to  fall  into  the  water,  whereat  they  all 
screamed  and  Ulysses  awaked  at  the  sound. 

Now  we  must  picture  to  ourselves  Ulysses,  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner,  but  a  few  hours  escaped  from  the 
waves,  and  utterly  destitute  of  clothing,  awaking  and 
discovering  that  only  a  few  bushes  were  interposed  be- 


THE  PH^EACIANS  249 

tween  him  and  a  group  of  young  maidens  whom,  by 
their  deportment  and  attire,  he  discovered  to  be  not 
mere  peasant  girls,  but  of  a  higher  class.  Sadly  need- 
ing help,  how  could  he  yet  venture,  naked  as  he  was, 
to  discover  himself  and  make  his  wants  known?  It 
certainly  was  a  case  worthy  of  the  interposition  of  his 
patron  goddess  Minerva,  who  never  failed  him  at  a 
crisis.  Breaking  off  a  leafy  branch  from  a  tree,  he  held 
it  before  him  and  stepped  out  from  the  thicket.  The 
virgins  at  sight  of  him  fled  in  all  directions,  Nausicaa 
alone  excepted,  for  her  Minerva  aided  and  endowed 
with  courage  and  discernment.  Ulysses,  standing  re- 
spectfully aloof,  told  his  sad  case,  and  besought  the 
fair  object  (whether  queen  or  goddess  he  professed  he 
knew  not)  for  food  and  clothing.  The  princess  replied 
courteously,  promising  present  relief  and  her  father's 
hospitality  when  he  should  become  acquainted  with  the 
facts.  She  called  back  her  scattered  maidens,  chiding 
their  alarm,  and  reminding  them  that  the  Phseacians  had 
no  enemies  to  fear.  This  man,  she  told  them,  was  an 
unhappy  wanderer,  whom  it  was  a  duty  to  cherish,  for 
the  poor  and  stranger  are  from  Jove.  She  bade  them 
bring  food  and  clothing,  for  some  of  her  brother's 
garments  were  among  the  contents  of  the  wagon.  When 
this  was  done,  and  Ulysses,  retiring  to  a  sheltered  place, 
had  washed  his  body  free  from  the  sea-foam,  clothed 
and  refreshed  himself  with  food,  Pallas  dilated  his  form 
and  diffused  grace  over  his  ample  chest  and  manly 
brows. 

The  princess,  seeing  him,  was  filled  with  admiration, 
and  scrupled  not  to  say  to  her  damsels  that  she  wished 
the  gods  would  send  her  such  a  husband.  To  Ulysses 
she  recommended  that  he  should  repair  to  the  city,  fol- 
lowing herself  and  train  so  far  as  the  way  lay  through 
the  fields;  but  when  they  should  approach  the  city  she 
desired  that  he  would  no  longer  be  seen  in  her  com- 
pany, for  she  feared  the  remarks  which  rude  and  vulgar 
people  might  make  on  seeing  her  return  accompanied 
by  such  a  gallant  stranger.  To  avoid  which  she  directed 
him  to  stop  at  a  grove  adjoining  the  city,  in  which  were 
a  farm  and  garden  belonging  to  the  king.  After  al- 


250       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

lowing  time  for  the  princess  and  her  companions  to 
reach  the  city,  he  was  then  to  pursue  his  way  thither, 
and  would  be  easily  guided  by  any  he  might  meet  to 
the  royal  abode. 

Ulysses  obeyed  the  directions  and  in  due  time  pro- 
ceeded to  the  city,  on  approaching  which  he  met  a 
young  woman  bearing  a  pitcher  forth  for  water.  It 
was  Minerva,  who  had  assumed  that  form.  Ulysses  ac- 
costed her  and  desired  to  be  directed  to  the  palace  of 
Alcinous  the  king.  The  maiden  replied  respectfully, 
offering  to  be  his  guide;  for  the  palace,  she  informed 
him,  stood  near  her  father's  dwelling.  Under  the 
guidance  of  the  goddess,  and  by  her  power  enveloped 
in  a  cloud  which  shielded  him  from  observation,  Ulysses 
passed  among  the  busy  crowd,  and  with  wonder  ob- 
served their  harbor,  their  ships,  their  forum  (the  resort 
of  heroes),  and  their  battlements,  till  they  came  to  the 
palace,  where  the  goddess,  having  first  given  him  some 
information  of  the  country,  king,  and  people  he  was 
about  to  meet,  left  him.  Ulysses,  before  entering  the 
courtyard  of  the  palace,  stood  and  surveyed  the  scene. 
Its  splendor  astonished  him.  Brazen  walls  stretched 
from  the  entrance  to  the  interior  house,  of  which  the 
doors  were  gold,  the  doorposts  silver,  the  lintels  silver 
ornamented  with  gold.  On  either  side  were  figures  of 
mastiffs  wrought  in  gold  and  silver,  standing  in  rows  as 
if  to  guard  the  approach.  Along  the  walls  were  seats 
spread  through  all  their  length  with  mantles  of  finest 
texture,  the  work  of  Phseacian  maidens.  On  these  seats 
the  princes  sat  and  feasted,  while  golden  statues  of 
graceful  youths  held  in  their  hands  lighted  torches  which 
shed  radiance  over  the  scene.  Full  fifty  female  menials 
served  in  household  offices,  some  employed  to  grind  the 
corn,  others  to  wind  off  the  purple  wool  or  ply  the 
loom.  For  the  Phaeacian  women  as  far  exceeded  all  other 
women  in  household  arts  as  the  mariners  of  that  coun- 
try did  the  rest  of  mankind  in  the  management  of  ships. 
Without  the  court  a  spacious  garden  lay,  four  acres  in 
extent.  In  it  grew  many  a  lofty  tree,  pomegranate, 
pear,  apple,  fig,  and  olive.  Neither  winter's  cold  nor 
summer's  drought  arrested  their  growth,  but  they  flour- 


THE  PH^EACIANS  251 

ished  in  constant  succession,  some  budding  while  others 
were  maturing.  The  vineyard  was  equally  prolific.  In 
one  quarter  you  might  see  the  vines,  some  in  blossom, 
some  loaded  with  ripe  grapes,  and  in  another  observe 
the  vintagers  treading  the  wine  press.  On  the  garden's 
borders  flowers  of  all  hues  bloomed  all  the  year  round, 
arranged  with  neatest  art.  In  the  midst  two  fountains 
poured  forth  their  waters,  one  flowing  by  artificial  chan- 
nels over  all  the  garden,  the  other  conducted  through 
the  courtyard  of  the  palace,  whence  every  citizen  might 
draw  his  supplies. 

Ulysses  stood  gazing  in  admiration,  unobserved  him- 
self, for  the  cloud  which  Minerva  spread  around  him 
still  shielded  him.  At  length,  having  sufficiently  ob- 
served the  scene,  he  advanced  with  rapid  step  into  the 
hall  where  the  chiefs  and  senators  were  assembled,  pour- 
ing libation  to  Mercury,  whose  worship  followed  the 
evening  meal.  Just  then  Minerva  dissolved  the  cloud 
and  disclosed  him  to  the  assembled  chiefs.  Advancing 
to  the  place  where  the  queen  sat,  he  knelt  at  her  feet 
and  implored  her  favor  and  assistance  to  enable  him 
to  return  to  his  native  country.  Then  withdrawing,  he 
seated  himself  in  the  manner  of  suppliants,  at  the  hearth 
side. 

For  a  time  none  spoke.  At  last  an  aged  statesman, 
addressing  the  king,  said,  "It  is  not  fit  that  a  stranger 
who  asks  our  hospitality  should  be  kept  waiting  in  sup- 
pliant guise,  none  welcoming  him.  Let  him  therefore 
be  led  to  a  seat  among  us  and  supplied  with  food  and 
wine."  At  these  words  the  king  rising  gave  his  hand 
to  Ulysses  and  led  him  to  a  seat,  displacing  thence  his 
own  son  to  make  room  for  the  stranger.  Food  and 
wine  were  set  before  him  and  he  ate  and  refreshed  him- 
self. 

The  king  then  dismissed  his  guests,  notifying  them 
that  the  next  day  he  would  call  them  to  council  to  con- 
sider what  had  best  be  done  for  the  stranger. 

When  the  guests  had  departed  and  Ulysses  was  left 
alone  with  the  king  and  queen,  the  queen  asked  him 
who  he  was  and  whence  he  came,  and  (recognizing  the 
clothes  which  he  wore  as  those  which  her  maidens  and 


252       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

herself  had  made)  from  whom  he  received  those  gar- 
ments. He  told  them  of  his  residence  in  Calypso's  isle 
and  his  departure  thence ;  of  the  wreck  of  his  raft,  his 
escape  by  swimming,  and  of  the  relief  afforded  by  the 
princess.  The  parents  heard  approvingly,  and  the  king 
promised  to  furnish  a  ship  in  which  his  guest  might  re- 
turn to  his  own  land. 

The  next  day  the  assembled  chiefs  confirmed  the 
promise  of  the  king.  A  bark  was  prepared  and  a  crew 
of  stout  rowers  selected,  and  all  betook  themselves  to 
the  palace,  where  a  bounteous  repast  was  provided. 
After  the  feast  the  king  proposed  that  the  young  men 
should  show  their  guest  their  proficiency  in  manly 
sports,  and  all  went  forth  to  the  arena  for  games  of 
running,  wrestling,  and  other  exercises.  After  all  had 
done  their  best,  Ulysses  being  challenged  to  show  what 
he  could  do,  at  first  declined,  but  being  taunted  by  one 
of  the  youths,  seized  a  quoit  of  weight  far  heavier  than 
any  of  the  Phaeacians  had  thrown,  and  sent  it  farther 
than  the  utmost  throw  of  theirs.  All  were  astonished, 
and  viewed  their  guest  with  greatly  increased  respect. 

After  the  games  they  returned  to  the  hall,  and  the 
herald  led  in  Demodocus,  the  blind  bard, — 

".  .  .  Dear  to  the  Muse, 
Who  yet  appointed  him  both  good  and  ill, 
Took  from  him  sight,  but  gave  him  strains  divine." 

He  took  for  his  theme  the  "Wooden  Horse,"  by  means 
of  which  the  Greeks  found  entrance  into  Troy.  Apollo 
inspired  him,  and  he  sang  so  feelingly  the  terrors  and 
the  exploits  of  that  eventful  time  that  all  were  de- 
lighted, but  Ulysses  was  moved  to  tears.  Observing 
which,  Alcinous,  when  the  song  was  done,  demanded  of 
him  why  at  the  mention  of  Troy  his  sorrows  awaked. 
Had  he  lost  there  a  father,  or  brother,  or  any  dear 
friend?  Ulysses  replied  by  announcing  himself  by  his 
true  name,  and  at  their  request,  recounted  the  adven- 
tures which  had  befallen  him  since  his  departure  from 
Troy.  This  narrative  raised  the  sympathy  and  admira- 
tion of  the  Phaeacians  for  their  guest  to  the  highest 
pitch.  The  king  proposed  that  all  the  chiefs  should 


THE  PH^EACIANS  253 

present  him  with  a  gift,  himself  setting  the  example. 
They  obeyed,  and  vied  with  one  another  in  loading  the 
illustrious  stranger  with  costly  gifts. 

The  next  day  Ulysses  set  sail  in  the  Phseacian  ves- 
sel, and  in  a  short  time  arrived  safe  at  Ithaca,  his  own 
island.  When  the  vessel  touched  the  strand  he  was 
asleep.  The  mariners,  without  waking  him,  carried 
him  on  shore,  and  landed  with  him  the  chest  containing 
his  presents,  and  then  sailed  away. 

Neptune  was  so  displeased  at  the  conduct  of  the 
Phseacians  in  thus  rescuing  Ulysses  from  his  hands  that 
on  the  return  of  the  vessel  to  port  he  transformed  it  into 
a  rock,  right  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  harbor. 

Homer's  description  of  the  ships  of  the  Phseacians 
has  been  thought  to  look  like  an  anticipation  of  the 
wonders  of  modern  steam  navigation.  Alcinoiis  says  to 
Ulysses : 

"Say  from  what  city,  from  what  regions  tossed, 
And  what  inhabitants  those  regions  boast? 
So  shalt  thou  quickly  reach  the  realm   assigned, 
In  wondrous  ships,  self-moved,  instinct  with  mind; 
No  helm  secures  their  course,  no  pilot  guides; 
Like  man  intelligent  they  plough  the  tides, 
Conscious  of  every  coast  and  every  bay 
That  lies  beneath  the  sun's  all-seeing  ray." 

—Odyssey,  Book  VIII. 

Lord  Carlisle,  in  his  "Diary  in  the  Turkish  and  Greek 
Waters/'  thus  speaks  of  Corfu,  which  he  considers  to 
be  the  ancient  Phseacian  island : 

"The  sites  explain  the  'Odyssey.'  The  temple  of  the 
sea-god  could  not  have  been  more  fitly  placed,  upon  a 
grassy  platform  of  the  most  elastic  turf,  on  the  brow 
of  a  crag  commanding  harbor,  and  channel,  and  ocean. 
Just  at  the  entrance  of  the  inner  harbor  there  is  a  pic- 
turesque rock  with  a  small  convent  perched  upon  it, 
which  by  one  legend  is  the  transformed  pinnace  of 
Ulysses. 

"Almost  the  only  river  in  the  island  is  just  at  the 
proper  distance  from  the  probable  site  of  the  city  and 
palace  of  the  king,  to  justify  the  princess  Nausicaa 


254       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

having  had  resort  to  her  chariot  and  to  luncheon  when 
she  went  with  the  maidens  of  the  court  to  wash  their 
garments." 

FATE   OF   THE    SUITORS 

Ulysses  had  now  been  away  from  Ithaca  for  twenty 
years,  and  when  he  awoke  he  did  not  recognize  his  na- 
tive land.  Minerva  appeared  to  him  in  the  form  of  a 
young  shepherd,  informed  him  where  he  was,  and  told 
him  the  state  of  things  at  his  palace.  More  than  a  hun- 
dred nobles  of  Ithaca  and  of  the  neighboring  islands 
had  been  for  years  suing  for  the  hand  of  Penelope,  his 
wife,  imagining  him  dead,  and  lording  it  over  his  palace 
and  people,  as  if  they  were  owners  of  both.  That  he 
might  be  able  to  take  vengeance  upon  them,  it  was  im- 
portant that  he  should  not  be  recognized.  Minerva  ac- 
cordingly metamorphosed  him  into  an  unsightly  beggar, 
and  as  such  he  was  kindly  received  by  Eumaeus,  the 
swine-herd,  a  faithful  servant  of  his  house. 

Telemachus,  his  son,  was  absent  in  quest  of  his  father. 
He  had  gone  to  the  courts  of  the  other  kings,  who  had 
returned  from  the  Trojan  expedition.  While  on  the 
search,  he  received  counsel  from  Minerva  to  return 
home.  He  arrived  and  sought  Eumaeus  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  palace  before  present- 
ing himself  among  the  suitors.  Finding  a  stranger  with 
Eumaeus,  he  treated  him  courteously,  though  in  the  garb 
of  a  beggar,  and  promised  him  assistance.  Eumseus  was 
sent  to  the  palace  to  inform  Penelope  privately  of  her 
son's  arrival,  for  caution  was  necessary  with  regard  to 
the  suitors,  who,  as  Telemachus  had  learned,  were  plot- 
ting to  intercept  and  kill  him.  When  Eumaeus  was  gone, 
Minerva  presented  herself  to  Ulysses,  and  directed  him 
to  make  himself  known  to  his  son.  At  the  same  time 
she  touched  him,  removed  at  once  from  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  age  and  penury,  and  gave  him  the  aspect  of 
vigorous  manhood  that  belonged  to  him.  Telemachus 
viewed  him  with  astonishment,  and  at  first  thought  he 
must  be  more  than  mortal.  But  Ulysses  announced  him- 
self as  his  father,  and  accounted  for  the  change  of  ap- 
pearance by  explaining  that  it  was  Minerva's  doing. 


FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS  255 

".  .  .  Then  threw  Telemachus 
His  arms  around  his  father's  neck  and  wept. 
Desire  intense  of  lamentation  seized 
On  both;  soft  murmurs  uttering,  each  indulged 
His  grief." 

The  father  and  son  took  counsel  together  how  they 
should  get  the  better  of  the  suitors  and  punish  them  for 
their  outrages.  It  was  arranged  that  Telemachus  should 
proceed  to  the  palace  and  mingle  with  the  suitors  as 
formerly;  that  Ulysses  should  also  go  as  a  beggar,  a 
character  which  in  the  rude  old  times  had  different  privi- 
leges from  what  we  concede  to  it  now.  As  traveller 
and  storyteller,  the  beggar  was  admitted  in  the  halls  of 
chieftains,  and  often  treated  like  a  guest;  though  some- 
times, also,  no  doubt,  with  contumely.  Ulysses  charged 
his  son  not  to  betray,  by  any  display  of  unusual  interest 
in  him,  that  he  knew  him  to  be  other  than  he  seemed, 
and  even  if  he  saw  him  insulted,  or  beaten,  not  to  in- 
terpose otherwise  than  he  might  do  for  any  stranger. 
At  the  palace  they  found  the  usual  scene  of  feasting  and 
riot  going  on.  The  suitors  pretended  to  receive  Telem- 
achus with  joy  at  his  return,  though  secretly  mortified 
at  the  failure  of  their  plots  to  take  his  life.  The  old 
beggar  was  permitted  to  enter,  and  provided  with  a 
portion  from  the  table.  A  touching  incident  occurred  as 
Ulysses  entered  the  courtyard  of  the  palace.  An  old 
dog  lay  in  the  yard  almost  dead  with  age,  and  seeing  a 
stranger  enter,  raised  his  head,  with  ears  erect.  It  was 
Argus,  Ulysses'  own  dog,  that  he  had  in  other  days  often 
led  to  the  chase. 

".  .  .  Soon  as  he  perceived 
Long-lost  Ulysses  nigh,  down  fell  his  ears 
Clapped  close,  and  with  his  tail  glad  sign  he  gave 
Of  gratulation,  impotent  to  rise, 
And  to  approach  his  master  as  of  old. 
Ulysses,  noting  him,  wiped  off  a  tear 
Unmarked. 

.  .  .  Then  his  destiny  released 
Old  Argiis,  soon  as  he  had  lived  to  see 
Ulysses  in  the  twentieth  year  restored." 

As  Ulysses   sat  eating  his   portion  in   the  hall,  the 


256        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

suitors  began  to  exhibit  their  insolence  to  him.  When 
he  mildly  remonstrated,  one  of  them  raised  a  stool  and 
with  it  gave  him  a  blow.  Telemachus  had  hard  work 
to  restrain  his  indignation  at  seeing  his  father  so  treated 
in  his  own  hall,  but  remembering  his  father's  injunctions, 
said  no  more  than  what  became  him  as  master  of  the 
house,  though  young,  and  protector  of  his  guests. 

Penelope  had  protracted  her  decision  in  favor  of 
either  of  her  suitors  so  long  that  there  seemed  to  be 
no  further  pretence  for  delay.  The  continued  absence 
of  her  husband  seemed  to  prove  that  his  return  was  no 
longer  to  be  expected.  Meanwhile  her  son  had  grown 
up,  and  was  able  to  manage  his  own  affairs.  She  there- 
fore consented  to  submit  the  question  of  her  choice  to 
a  trial  of  skill  among  the  suitors.  The  test  selected 
was  shooting  with  the  bow.  Twelve  rings  were  ar- 
ranged in  a  line,  and  he  whose  arrow  was  sent  through 
the  whole  twelve  was  to  have  the  queen  for  his  prize. 
A  bow  that  one  of  his  brother  heroes  had  given  to 
Ulysses  in  former  times  was  brought  from  the  armory, 
and  with  its  quiver  full  of  arrows  was  laid  in  the  hall. 
Telemachus  had  taken  care  that  all  other  weapons  should 
be  removed,  under  pretence  that  in  the  heat  of  compe- 
tition there  was  danger,  in  some  rash  moment,  of  put- 
ting them  to  an  improper  use. 

All  things  being  prepared  for  the  trial,  the  first  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  bend  the  bow  in  order  to  attach  the 
string.  Telemachus  endeavored  to  do  it,  but  found  all 
his  efforts  fruitless;  and  modestly  confessing  that  he 
had  attempted  a  task  beyond  his  strength,  he  yielded  the 
bow  to  another.  He  tried  it  with  no  better  success,  and, 
amidst  the  laughter  and  jeers  of  his  companions,  gave  it 
up.  Another  tried  it  and  another;  they  rubbed  the  bow 
with  tallow,  but  all  to  no  purpose;  it  would  not  bend. 
Then  spoke  Ulysses,  humbly  suggesting  that  he  should 
be  permitted  to  try;  for,  said  he,  "beggar  as  I  am,  I 
was  once  a  soldier,  and  there  is  still  some  strength  in 
these  old  limbs  of  mine."  The  suitors  hooted  with  de- 
rision, and  commanded  to  turn  him  out  of  the  hall  for 
his  insolence.  But  Telemachus  spoke  up  for  him,  and, 
merely  to  gratify  the  old  man,  bade  him  try.  Ulysses 


FATE  OF  THE  SUITORS  257 

took  the  bow,  and  handled  it  with  the  hand  of  a  master. 
With  ease  he  adjusted  the  cord  to  its  notch,  then  fitting 
an  arrow  to  the  bow  he  drew  the  string  and  sped  the 
arrow  unerring  through  the  rings. 

Without  allowing  them  time  to  express  their  aston- 
ishment, he  said,  "Now  for  another  mark!"  and  aimed 
direct  at  the  most  insolent  one  of  the  suitors.  The 
arrow  pierced  through  his  throat  and  he  fell  dead. 
Telemachus,  Eumseus,  and  another  faithful  follower, 
well  armed,  now  sprang  to  the  side  of  Ulysses.  The 
suitors,  in  amazement,  looked  round  for  arms,  but  found 
none,  neither  was  there  any  way  of  escape,  for  Eumseus 
had  secured  the  door.  Ulysses  left  them  not  long  in 
uncertainty ;  he  announced  himself  as  the  long-lost  chief, 
whose  house  they  had  invaded,  whose  substance  they 
had  squandered,  whose  wife  and  son  they  had  perse- 
cuted for  ten  long  years;  and  told  them  he  meant  to 
have  ample  vengeance.  All  were  slain,  and  Ulysses  was 
left  master  of  his  palace  and  possessor  of  his  kingdom 
and  his  wife. 

Tennyson's  poem  of  "Ulysses"  represents  the  old 
hero,  after  his  dangers  past  and  nothing  left  but  to  stay 
at  home  and  be  happy,  growing  tired  of  inaction  and 
resolving  to  set  forth  again  in  quest  of  new  adventures* 

".  .  .  Come,  my  friends, 
'Tis  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world. 
Push  off,  and  sitting  well  in  order  smite 
The  sounding  furrows;  for  my  purpose  holds 
To  sail  beyond  the  sunset,  and  the  baths 
Of  all  the  western  stars,  until  I  die. 
It  may  be  that  the  gulfs  will  wash  us  down; 
It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  Happy  Isles, 
And  see  the  great  Achilles  whom  we  knew ;"  etc 


258       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

ADVENTURES   OF   ^NEAS — THE    HARPIES — DIDO 

PALINURUS 

ADVENTURES    OF    AENEAS 

WE  have  followed  one  of  the  Grecian  heroes,  Ulysses, 
in  his  wanderings  on  his  return  home  from  Troy,  and 
now  we  propose  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  remnant 
of  the  conquered  people,  under  their  chief  yEneas,  in 
their  search  for  a  new  home,  after  the  ruin  of  their  na- 
tive city.  On  that  fatal  night  when  the  wooden  horse 
disgorged  its  contents  of  armed  men,  and  the  capture 
and  conflagration  of  the  city  were  the  result,  ^neas 
made  his  escape  from  the  scene  of  destruction,  with 
his  father,  and  his  wife,  and  young  son.  The  father, 
Anchises,  was  too  old  to  walk  with  the  speed  required, 
and  ^Eneas  took  him  upon  his  shoulders.  Thus  bur- 
dened, leading  his  son  and  followed  by  his  wife,  he 
made  the  best  of  his  way  out  of  the  burning  city;  but, 
in  the  confusion,  his  wife  was  swept  away  and  lost. 

On  arriving  at  the  place  of  rendezvous,  numerous 
fugitives,  of  both  sexes,  were  found,  who  put  them- 
selves under  the  guidance  of  ^neas.  Some  months 
were  spent  in  preparation,  and  at  length  they  embarked. 
They  first  landed  on  the  neighboring  shores  of  Thrace, 
and  were  preparing  to  build  a  city,  but  ^Eneas  was 
deterred  by  a  prodigy.  Preparing  to  offer  sacrifice,  he 
tore  some  twigs  from  one  of  the  bushes.  To  his  dis- 
may the  wounded  part  dropped  blood.  When  he  re- 
peated the  act  a  voice  from  the  ground  cried  out  to 
him,  "Spare  me,  -^Eneas;  I  am  your  kinsman,  Polydore, 
here  murdered  with  many  arrows,  from  which  a  bush 
has  grown,  nourished  with  my  blood."  These  words 
recalled  to  the  recollection  of  ^feneas  that  Polydore  was 
a  young  prince  of  Troy,  whom  his  father  had  sent  with 
ample  treasures  to  the  neighboring  land  of  Thrace,  to 
be  there  brought  up,  at  a  distance  from  the  horrors  of 
war.  The  king  to  whom  he  was  sent  had  murdered 


ADVENTURES  OF  AENEAS  259 

him  and  seized  his  treasures.  ^Eneas  and  his  compan- 
ions, considering  the  land  accursed  by  the  stain  of  such 
a  crime,  hastened  away. 

They  next  landed  on  the  island  of  Delos,  which  was 
once  a  floating  island,  till  Jupiter  fastened  it  by  adaman- 
tine chains  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Apollo  and  Diana 
were  born  there,  and  the  island  was  sacred  to  Apollo. 
Here  yEneas  consulted  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  and  re- 
ceived an  answer,  ambiguous  as  usual, — "Seek  your  an- 
cient mother;  there  the  race  of  tineas  shall  dwell,  and 
reduce  all  other  nations  to  their  sway."  The  Trojans 
heard  with  joy  and  immediately  began  to  ask  one  an- 
other, "Where  is  the  spot  intended  by  the  oracle?" 
Anchises  remembered  that  there  was  a  tradition  that 
their  forefathers  came  from  Crete  and  thither  they  re- 
solved to  steer.  They  arrived  at  Crete  and  began  to 
build  their  city,  but  sickness  broke  out  among  them, 
and  the  fields  that  they  had  planted  failed  to  yield  a 
crop.  In  this  gloomy  aspect  of  affairs  ^neas  was 
warned  in  a  dream  to  leave  the  country  and  seek  a 
western  land,  called  Hesperia,  whence  Dardanus,  the 
true  founder  of  the  Trojan  race,  had  originally  mi- 
grated. To  Hesperia,  now  called  Italy,  therefore,  they 
directed  their  future  course,  and  not  till  after  many 
adventures  and  the  lapse  of  time  sufficient  to  carry  a 
modern  navigator  several  times  round  the  world,  did 
they  arrive  there. 

Their  first  landing  was  at  the  island  of  the  Harpies. 
These  were  disgusting  birds  with  the  heads  of  maidens, 
with  long  claws  and  faces  pale  with  hunger.  They  were 
sent  by  the  gods  to  torment  a  certain  Phineus,  whom 
Jupiter  had  deprived  of  his  sight,  in  punishment  of  his 
cruelty;  and  whenever  a  meal  was  placed  before  him 
the  Harpies  darted  down  from  the  air  and  carried  it 
off.  They  were  driven  away  from  Phineus  by  the 
heroes  of  the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  took  refuge 
in  the  island  where  vEneas  now  found  them. 

When  they  entered  the  port  the  Trojans  saw  herds 
of  cattle  roaming  over  the  plain.  They  slew  as  many 
as  they  wished  and  prepared  for  a  feast.  But  no  sooner 
had  they  seated  themselves  at  the  table  than  a  horrible 


260        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

clamor  was  heard  in  the  air,  and  a  flock  of  these  odious 
harpies  came  rushing  down  upon  them,  seizing  in  their 
talons  the  meat  from  the  dishes  and  flying  away  with 
it.  ^Eneas  and  his  companions  drew  their  swords  and 
dealt  vigorous  blows  among  the  monsters,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, for  they  were  so  nimble  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  hit  them,  and  their  feathers  were  like  armor  im- 
penetrable to  steel.  One  of  them,  perched  on  a  neigh- 
boring cliff,  screamed  out,  "Is  it  thus,  Trojans,  you  treat 
us  innocent  birds,  first  slaughter  our  cattle  and  then 
make  war  on  ourselves?"  She  then  predicted  dire  suf- 
ferings to  them  in  their  future  course,  and  having  vented 
her  wrath  flew  away.  The  Trojans  made  haste  to  leave 
the  country,  and  next  found  themselves  coasting  along 
the  shore  of  Epirus.  Here  they  landed,  and  to  their 
astonishment  learned  that  certain  Trojan  exiles,  who 
had  been  carried  there  as  prisoners,  had  become  rulers 
of  the  country.  Andromache,  the  widow  of  Hector,  be- 
came the  wife  of  one  of  the  victorious  Grecian  chiefs, 
to  whom  she  bore  a  son.  Her  husband  dying,  she  was 
left  regent  of  the  country,  as  guardian  of  her  son,  and 
had  married  a  fellow-captive,  Helenus,  of  the  royal  race 
of  Troy.  Helenus  and  Andromache  treated  the  exiles 
with  the  utmost  hospitality,  and  dismissed  them  loaded 
with  gifts. 

From  hence  ./Eneas  coasted  along  the  shore  of  Sicily 
and  passed  the  country  of  the  Cyclopes.  Here  they 
were  hailed  from  the  shore  by  a  miserable  object,  whom 
by  his  garments,  tattered  as  they  were,  they  perceived 
to  be  a  Greek.  He  told  them  he  was  one  of  Ulysses's 
companions,  left  behind  by  that  chief  in  his  hurried 
departure.  He  related  the  story  of  Ulysses's  adventure 
with  Polyphemus,  and  besought  them  to  take  him  off 
with  them  as  he  had  no  means  of  sustaining  his  ex- 
istence where  he  was  but  wild  berries  and  roots,  and 
lived  in  constant  fear  of  the  Cyclopes.  While  he  spoke 
Polyphemus  made  his  appearance;  a  terrible  monster, 
shapeless,  vast,  whose  only  eye  had  been  put  out.1  He 
walked  with  cautious  steps,  feeling  his  way  with  a  staff, 
down  to  the  sea-side,  to  wash  his  eye-socket  in  the 

1See  Proverbial  Expression*. 


ADVENTURES  OF  .ENEAS  261 

waves.  When  he  reached  the  water,  he  waded  out 
towards  them,  and  his  immense  height  enabled  him  to 
advance  far  into  the  sea,  so  that  the  Trojans,  in  terror, 
took  to  their  oars  to  get  out  of  his  way.  Hearing  the 
oars,  Polyphemus  shouted  after  them,  so  that  the  shores 
resounded,  and  at  the  noise  the  other  Cyclopes  came 
forth  from  their  caves  and  woods  and  lined  the  shore, 
like  a  row  of  lofty  pine  trees.  The  Trojans  plied  their 
oars  and  soon  left  them  out  of  sight. 

./Eneas  had  been  cautioned  by  Helenus  to  avoid  the 
strait  guarded  by  the  monsters  Scylla  and  Charybdis. 
There  Ulysses,  the  reader  will  remember,  had  lost  six 
of  his  men,  seized  by  Scylla  while  the  navigators  were 
wholly  intent  upon  avoiding  Charybdis.  JEneas,  fol- 
lowing the  advice  of  Helenus,  shunned  the  dangerous 
pass  and  coasted  along  the  island  of  Sicily. 

Juno,  seeing  the  Trojans  speeding  their  way  prosper- 
ously towards  their  destined  shore,  felt  her  old  grudge 
against  them  revive,  for  she  could  not  forget  the  slight 
that  Paris  had  put  upon  her,  in  awarding  Vhe  prize  of 
beauty  to  another.  In  heavenly  minds  can  such  resent- 
ments dwell!1  Accordingly  she  hastened  to  ^Eolus,  the 
ruler  of  the  winds, — the  same  who  supplied  Ulysses 
with  favoring  gales,  giving  him  the  contrary  ones  tied 
up  in  a  bag.  .Eolus  obeyed  the  goddess  and  sent  forth 
his  sons,  Boreas,  Typhon,  and  the  other  winds,  to  toss 
the  ocean.  A  terrible  storm  ensued  and  the  Trojan  ships 
were  driven  out  of  their  course  towards  the  coast  of 
Africa.  They  were  in  imminent  danger  of  being 
wrecked,  and  were  separated,  so  that  .Eneas  thought 
that  all  were  lost  except  his  own. 

At  this  crisis,  Neptune,  hearing  the  storm  raging,  and 
knowing  that  he  had  given  no  orders  for  one,  raised  his 
head  above  the  waves,  and  saw  the  fleet  of  .Eneas  driv- 
ing before  the  gale.  Knowing  the  iiostility  of  Juno,  he 
was  at  no  loss  to  account  for  it,  but  his  anger  was  not 
the  less  at  this  interference  in  his  province.  He  called 
the  winds  and  dismissed  them  with  a  severe  reprimand. 
He  then  soothed  the  waves,  and  brushed  away  the  clouds 
from  before  the  face  of  the  sun.  Some  of  the  ships 

*See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


262        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

which  had  got  on  the  rocks  he  pried  off  with  his  own 
trident,  while  Triton  and  a  sea-nymph,  putting  their 
shoulders  under  others,  set  them  afloat  again.  The  Tro- 
jans, when  the  sea  became  calm,  sought  the  nearest 
shore,  which  was  the  coast  of  Carthage,  where  -^neas 
was  so  happy  as  to  find  that  one  by  one  the  ships  all 
arrived  safe,  though  badly  shaken. 

Waller,  in  his  "Panegyric  to  the  Lord  Protector" 
(Cromwell),  alludes  to  this  stilling  of  the  storm  by 
Neptune : 

"Above  the  waves,  as  Neptune  showed  his  face, 
To  chide  the  winds  and  save  the  Trojan  race, 
So  has  your  Highness,  raised  above  the  rest, 
Storms  of  ambition  tossing  us  repressed." 

DIDO 

Carthage,  where  the  exiles  had  now  arrived,  was  a 
spot  on  the  coast  of  Africa  opposite  Sicily,  where  at 
that  time  a  Tyrian  colony  under  Dido,  their  queen,  were 
laying  the  foundations  of  a  state  destined  in  later  ages 
to  be  the  rival  of  Rome  itself.  Dido  was  the  daughter 
of  Belus,  king  of  Tyre,  and  sister  of  Pygmalion,  who 
succeeded  his  father  on  the  throne.  Her  husband  was 
Sichseus,  a  man  of  immense  wealth,  but  Pygmalion, 
who  coveted  his  treasures,  caused  him  to  be  put  to  death. 
Dido,  with  a  numerous  body  of  friends  and  followers, 
both  men  and  women,  succeeded  in  effecting  their  escape 
from  Tyre,  in  several  vessels,  carrying  with  them  the 
treasures  of  Sichaeus.  On  arriving  at  the  spot  which  they 
selected  as  the  seat  of  their  future  home,  they  asked  of 
the  natives  only  so  much  land  as  they  could  enclose  with 
a  bull's  hide.  When  this  was  readily  granted,  she  caused 
the  hide  to  be  cut  into  strips,  and  with  them  enclosed  a 
spot  on  which  she  built  a  citadel,  and  called  it  Byrsa  (a 
hide).  Around  this  fort  the  city  of  Carthage  rose,  and 
soon  became  a  powerful  and  flourishing  place. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  ^Eneas  with  his 
Trojans  arrived  there.  Dido  received  the  illustrious 
exiles  with  friendliness  and  hospitality.  "Not  unac- 


DIDO  263 

quainted  with  distress/'  she  said,  "I  have  learned  to 
succor  the  unfortunate."1  The  queen's  hospitality  dis- 
played itself  in  festivities  at  which  games  of  strength 
and  skill  were  exhibited.  The  strangers  contended  for 
the  palm  with  her  own  subjects,  on  equal  terms,  the 
queen  declaring  that  whether  the  victor  were  "Trojan  or 
Tynan  should  make  no  difference  to  her."1  At  the  feast 
which  followed  the  games,  ./Eneas  gave  at  her  request 
a  recital  of  the  closing  events  of  the  Trojan  history  and 
his  own  adventures  after  the  fall  of  the  city.  Dido  was 
charmed  with  his  discourse  and  filled  with  admiration 
of  his  exploits.  She  conceived  an  ardent  passion  for 
him,  and  he  for  his  part  seemed  well  content  to  accept 
the  fortunate  chance  which  appeared  to  offer  him  at 
once  a  happy  termination  of  his  wanderings,  a  home,  a 
kingdom,  and  a  bride.  Months  rolled  away  in  the  en- 
joyment of  pleasant  intercourse,  and  it  seemed  as  if 
Italy  and  the  empire  destined  to  be  founded  on  its  shores 
were  alike  forgotten.  Seeing  which,  Jupiter  despatched 
Mercury  with  a  message  to  tineas  recalling  him  to  a 
sense  of  his  high  destiny,  and  commanding  him  to  re- 
sume his  voyage. 

^Eneas  parted  from  Dido,  though  she  tried  every  al- 
lurement and  persuasion  to  detain  him.  The  blow  to 
her  affection  and  her  pride  was  too  much  for  her  to 
endure,  and  when  she  found  that  he  was  gone,  she 
mounted  a  funeral  pile  which  she  had  caused  to  be 
erected,  and  having  stabbed  herself  was  consumed  with 
the  pile.  The  flames  rising  over  the  city  were  seen  by 
the  departing  Trojans,  and,  though  the  cause  was  un- 
known, gave  to  ^Eneas  some  intimation  of  the  fatal 
event. 

The  following  epigram  we  find  in  "Elegant  Ex- 
tracts" : 

FROM   THE   LATIN 

"Unhappy,  Dido,  was  thy  fate 
In  first  and  second  married  state  ! 
One  husband  caused  thy  flight  by  dying, 
Thy  death  the  other  caused  by  flying." 

1  See    Proverbial   Expressions. 


264        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


PALINURUS 

After  touching  at  the  island  of  Sicily,  where  Acestes, 
a  prince  of  Trojan  lineage,  bore  sway,  who  gave  them 
a  hospitable  reception,  the  Trojans  reembarked,  and 
held  on  their  course  for  Italy.  Venus  now  interceded 
with  Neptune  to  allow  her  son  at  last  to  attain  the 
wished-for  goal  and  find  an  end  of  his  perils  on  the 
deep.  Neptune  consented,  stipulating  only  for  one  life 
as  a  ransom  for  the  rest.  The  victim  was  Palinurus, 
the  pilot.  As  he  sat  watching  the  stars,  with  his  hand 
on  the  helm,  Somnus  sent  by  Neptune  approached  in 
the  guise  of  Phorbas  and  said :  "Palinurus,  the  breeze 
is  fair,  the  water  smooth,  and  the  ship  sails  steadily  on 
her  course.  Lie  down  awhile  and  take  needful  rest. 
I  will  stand  at  the  helm  in  your  place."  Palinurus  re- 
plied, "Tell  me  not  of  smooth  seas  or  favoring  winds, 
— me  who  have  seen  so  much  of  their  treachery.  Shall 
I  trust  JEneas  to  the  chances  of  the  weather  and  the 
winds?"  And  he  continued  to  grasp  the  helm  and  to 
keep  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  stars.  But  Somnus  waved 
over  him  a  branch  moistened  wtih  Lethaean  dew,  and 
his  eyes  closed  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts.  Then  Somnus 
pushed  him  overboard  and  he  fell ;  but  keeping  his  hold 
upon  the  helm,  it  came  away  with  him.  Neptune  was 
mindful  of  his  promise  and  kept  the  ship  on  her  track 
without  helm  or  pilot,  till  -#£neas  discovered  his  loss, 
and,  sorrowing  deeply  for  his  faithful  steersman,  took 
charge  of  the  ship  himself. 

There  is  a  beautiful  allusion  to  the  story  of  Palinurus 
in  Scott's  "Marmion,"  Introduction  to  Canto  I.,  where 
the  poet,  speaking  of  the  recent  death  of  William  Pitt, 
says: 

"O,  think  how,  to  his  latest  day, 
When  death  just  hovering  claimed  his  prey, 
With  Palinure's  unaltered  mood, 
Firm  at  his  dangerous  post  he  stood; 
Each  call  for  needful  rest  repelled, 
With  dying  hand  the  rudder  held, 
Till  in  his  fall,  with  fateful  sway, 
The  steerage  of  the  realm  gave  way." 


PALINURUS  265 

The  ships  at  last  reached  the  shores  of  Italy,  and  joy- 
fully did  the  adventurers  leap  to  land.  While  his  people 
were  employed  in  making  their  encampment  ^Eneas 
sought  the  abode  of  the  Sibyl.  It  was  a  cave  connected 
with  a  temple  and  grove,  sacred  to  Apollo  and  Diana. 
While  ^Eneas  contemplated  the  scene,  the  Sibyl  accosted 
him.  She  seemed  to  know  his  errand,  and  under  the 
influence  of  the  deity  of  the  place,  burst  forth  in  a  pro- 
phetic strain,  giving  dark  intimations  of  labors  and  perils 
through  which  he  was  destined  to  make  his  way  to 
final  success.  She  closed  with  the  encouraging  words 
which  have  become  proverbial:  "Yield  not  to  disasters, 
but  press  onward  the  more  bravely."1  ^Eneas  replied 
that  he  had  prepared  himself  for  whatever  might  await 
him.  He  had  but  one  request  to  make.  Having  been 
directed  in  a  dream  to  seek  the  abode  of  the  dead  in 
order  to  confer  with  his  father,  Anchises,  to  receive 
from  him  a  revelation  of  his  future  fortunes  and  those 
of  his  race,  he  asked  her  assistance  to  enable  him  to  ac- 
complish the  task.  The  Sibyl  replied,  "The  descent  to 
Avernus  is  easy:  the  gate  of  Pluto  stands  open  night 
and  day;  but  to  retrace  one's  steps  and  return  to  the 
upper  air,  that  is  the  toil,  that  the  difficulty."1  She  in- 
structed him  to  seek  in  the  forest  a  tree  on  which  grew 
a  golden  branch.  This  branch  was  to  be  plucked  off 
and  borne  as  a  gift  to  Proserpine,  and  if  fate  was  pro- 
pitious it  would  yield  to  the  hand  and  quit  its  parent 
trunk,  but  otherwise  no  force  could  rend  it  away.  If 
torn  away,  another  would  succeed.1 

yEneas  followed  the  directions  of  the  Sibyl.  His 
mother,  Venus,  sent  two  of  her  doves  to  fly  before  him 
and  show  him  the  way,  and  by  their  assistance  he  found 
the  tree,  plucked  the  branch,  and  hastened  back  with  it 
to  the  Sibyl. 

*  See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


266        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER   XXXII 

THE   INFERNAL   REGIONS — THE   SIBYL 
THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS 

As  at  the  commencement  of  our  series  we  have  given 
the  pagan  account  of  the  creation  of  the  world,  so  as 
we  approach  its  conclusion  we  present  a  view  of  the 
regions  of  the  dead,  depicted  by  one  of  their  most  en- 
lightened poets,  who  drew  his  doctrines  from  their  most 
esteemed  philosophers.  The  region  where  Virgil  locates 
the  entrance  to  this  abode  is  perhaps  the  most  strikingly 
adapted  to  excite  ideas  of  the  terrific  and  preternatural 
of  any  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  It  is  the  volcanic 
region  near  Vesuvius,  where  the  whole  country  is  cleft 
with  chasms,  from  which  sulphurous  flames  arise,  while 
the  ground  is  shaken  with  pent-up  vapors,  and  mysteri- 
ous sounds  issue  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The 
lake  Avernus  is  supposed  to  fill  the  crater  of  an  ex- 
tinct volcano.  It  is  circular,  half  a  mile  wide,  and  very 
deep,  surrounded  by  high  banks,  which  in  Virgil's  time 
were  covered  with  a  gloomy  forest.  Mephitic  vapors 
rise  from  its  waters,  so  that  no  life  is  found  on  its  banks, 
and  no  birds  fly  over  it.  Here,  according  to  the  poet, 
was  the  cave  which  afforded  access  to  the  infernal  re- 
gions, and  here  ^Eneas  offered  sacrifices  to  the  infernal 
deities,  Proserpine,  Hecate,  and  the  Furies.  Then  a 
roaring  was  heard  in  the  earth,  the  woods  on  the  hill- 
tops were  shaken,  and  the  howling  of  dogs  announced 
the  approach  of  the  deities.  "Now,"  said  the  Sibyl, 
"summon  up  your  courage,  for  you  will  need  it."  She 
descended  into  the  cave,  and  ^neas  followed.  Before 
the  threshold  of  hell  they  passed  through  a  group  of 
beings  who  are  enumerated  as  Griefs  and  avenging 
Cares,  pale  Diseases  and  melancholy  Age,  Fear  and 
Hunger  that  tempt  to  crime,  Toil,  Poverty,  and  Death, — 
forms  horrible  to  view.  The  Furies  spread  their  couches 
there,  and  Discord,  whose  hair  was  of  vipers  tied  up 
with  a  bloody  fillet  Here  also  were  the  monsters, 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS  267 

Briareus,  with  his  hundred  arms,  Hydras  hissing,  and 
Chimaeras  breathing  fire.  /Eneas  shuddered  at  the  sight, 
drew  his  sword  and  would  have  struck,  but  the  Sibyl 
restrained  him.  They  then  came  to  the  black  river 
Cocytus,  where  they  found  the  ferryman,  Charon,  old 
and  squalid,  but  strong  and  vigorous,  who  was  receiving 
passengers  of  all  kinds  into  his  boat,  magnanimous 
heroes,  boys  and  unmarried  girls,  as  numerous  as  the 
leaves  that  fall  at  autumn,  or  the  flocks  that  fly  south- 
ward at  the  approach  of  winter.  They  stood  pressing 
for  a  passage  and  longing  to  touch  the  opposite  shore. 
But  the  stern  ferryman  took  in  only  such  as  he  chose, 
driving  the  rest  back.  /Eneas,  wondering  at  the  sight, 
asked  the  Sibyl,  "Why  this  discrimination?"  She  an- 
swered, "Those  who  are  taken  on  board  the  bark  are  the 
souls  of  those  who  have  received  due  burial  rites;  the 
host  of  others  who  have  remained  unburied  are  not 
permitted  to  pass  the  flood,  but  wander  a  hundred  years, 
and  flit  to  and  fro  about  the  shore,  till  at  last  they  are 
taken  over."  /Eneas  grieved  at  recollecting  some  of 
his  own  companions  who  had  perished  in  the  storm.  At 
that  moment  he  beheld  Palinurus,  his  pilot,  who  fell 
overboard  and  was  drowned.  He  addressed  him  and 
asked  him  the  cause  of  his  misfortune.  Palinurus  re- 
plied that  the  rudder  was  carried  away,  and  he,  clinging 
to  it,  was  swept  away  with  it.  He  besought  ^Eneas 
most  urgently  to  extend  to  him  his  hand  and  take  him 
in  company  to  the  opposite  shore.  But  the  Sibyl  re- 
buked him  for  the  wish  thus  to  transgress  the  laws  of 
Pluto;  but  consoled  him  by  informing  him  that  the  peo- 
ple of  the  shore  where  his  body  had  been  wafted  by 
the  waves  should  be  stirred  up  by  prodigies  to  give  it 
due  burial,  and  that  the  promontory  should  bear  the 
name  of  Cape  Palinurus,  which  it  does  to  this  day. 
Leaving  Palinurus  consoled  by  these  words,  they  ap- 
proached the  boat.  Charon,  fixing  his  eyes  sternly  upon 
the  advancing  warrior,  demanded  by  what  right  he,  liv- 
ing and  armed,  approached  that  shore.  To  which  the 
Sibyl  replied  that  they  would  commit  no  violence,  that 
^Eneas's  only  object  was  to  see  his  father,  and  finally 
exhibited  the  golden  branch,  at  sight  of  which  Charon's 


268        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

wrath  relaxed,  and  he  made  haste  to  turn  his  bark  to 
the  shore,  and  receive  them  on  board.  The  boat, 
adapted  only  to  the  light  freight  of  bodiless  spirits, 
groaned  under  the  weight  of  the  hero.  They  were  soon 
conveyed  to  the  opposite  shore.  There  they  were  en- 
countered by  the  three-headed  dog,  Cerberus,  with  his 
necks  bristling  with  snakes.  He  barked  with  all  his 
three  throats  till  the  Sibyl  threw  him  a  medicated  cake 
which  he  eagerly  devoured,  and  then  stretched  himself 
out  in  his  den  and  fell  asleep.  ^Eneas  and  the  Sibyl 
sprang  to  land.  The  first  sound  that  struck  their  ears 
was  the  wailing  of  young  children,  who  had  died  on  the 
threshold  of  life,  and  near  to  these  were  they  who  had 
perished  under  false  charges.  Minos  presides  over  them 
as  judge,  and  examines  the  deeds  of  each.  The  next 
class  was  of  those  who  had  died  by  their  own  hand,  hat- 
ing life  and  seeking  refuge  in  death.  O  how  willingly 
would  they  now  endure  poverty,  labor,  and  any  other 
infliction,  if  they  might  but  return  to  life!  Next  were 
situated  the  regions  of  sadness,  divided  off  into  retired 
paths,  leading  through  groves  of  myrtle.  Here  roamed 
those  who  had  fallen  victims  to  unrequited  love,  not 
freed  from  pain  even  by  death  itself.  Among  these, 
-<Eneas  thought  he  descried  the  form  of  Dido,  with 
a  wound  still  recent.  In  the  dim  light  he  was  for  a  mo- 
ment uncertain,  but  approaching,  perceived  it  was  indeed 
herself.  Tears  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  he  addressed  her 
in  the  accents  of  love.  "Unhappy  Dido!  was  then  the 
rumor  true  that  you  had  perished  ?  and  was  I,  alas !  the 
cause?  I  call  the  gods  to  witness  that  my  departure 
from  you  was  reluctant,  and  in  obedience  to  the  com- 
mands  of  Jove;  nor  could  I  believe  that  my  absence 
would  cost  you  so  dear.  Stop,  I  beseech  you,  and  refuse 
me  not  a  last  farewell."  She  stood  for  a  moment  with 
averted  countenance,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  and 
then  silently  passed  on,  as  insensible  to  his  pleadings  as 
a  rock.  ^Eneas  followed  for  some  distance;  then,  with 
a  heavy  heart,  rejoined  his  companion  and  resumed  his 
route. 

They  next  entered  the  fields  where  roam  the  heroes 
who  have  fallen  in  battle.    Here  they  saw  many  shades 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS  269 

of  Grecian  and  Trojan  warriors.  The  Trojans  thronged 
around  him,  and  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  sight. 
They  asked  the  cause  of  his  coming,  and  plied  him  with 
innumerable  questions.  But  the  Greeks,  at  the  sight  of 
his  armor  glittering  through  the  murky  atmosphere,  rec- 
ognized the  hero,  and  filled  with  terror  turned  their 
backs  and  fled,  as  they  used  to  do  on  the  plains  of  Troy. 
yEneas  would  have  lingered  long  with  his  Trojan 
friends,  but  the  Sibyl  hurried  him  away.  They  next 
came  to  a  place  where  the  road  divided,  the  one  leading 
to  Elysium,  the  other  to  the  regions  of  the  condemned. 
^Eneas  beheld  on  one  side  the  walls  of  a  mighty  city, 
around  which  Phlegethon  rolled  its  fiery  waters.  Be- 
fore him  was  the  gate  of  adamant  that  neither  gods  nor 
men  can  break  through.  An  iron  tower  stood  by  the 
gate,  on  which  Tisiphone,  the  avenging  Fury,  kept 
guard.  From  the  city  were  heard  groans,  and  the  sound 
of  the  scourge,  the  creaking  of  iron,  and  the  clanking 
of  chains,  ^neas,  horror-struck,  inquired  of  his  guide 
what  crimes  were  those  whose  punishments  produced 
the  sounds  he  heard?  The  Sibyl  answered,  "Here  is  the 
judgment  hall  of  Rhadamanthus,  who  brings  to  light 
crimes  done  in  life,  which  the  perpetrator  vainly  thought 
impenetrably  hid.  Tisiphone  applies  her  whip  of  scor- 
pions, and  delivers  the  offender  over  to  her  sister 
Furies."  At  this  moment  with  horrid  clang  the  brazen 

fates  unfolded,  and  yEneas  saw  within  a  Hydra  with 
fty  heads  guarding  the  entrance.  The  Sibyl  told  him 
that  the  gulf  of  Tartarus  descended  deep,  so  that  its 
recesses  were  as  far  beneath  their  feet  as  heaven  was 
high  above  their  heads.  In  the  bottom  of  this  pit,  the 
Titan  race,  who  warred  against  the  gods,  lie  prostrate; 
Salmoneus,  also,  who  presumed  to  vie  with  Jupiter,  and 
built  a  bridge  of  brass  over  which  he  drove  his  chariot 
that  the  sound  might  resemble  thunder,  launching  flam- 
ing brands  at  his  people  in  imitation  of  lightning,  till 
Jupiter  struck  him  with  a  real  thunderbolt,  and  taught 
him  the  difference  between  mortal  weapons  and  divine. 
Here,  also,  is  Tityus,  the  giant,  whose  form  is  so  im- 
mense that  as  he  lies  he  stretches  over  nine  acres,  while 
a  vulture  preys  upon  his  liver,  which  as  fast  as  it  is 


270        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

devoured  grows  again,  so  that  his  punishment  will  have 
no  end. 

-#ineas  saw  groups  seated  at  tables  loaded  with  dain- 
ties, while  near  by  stood  a  Fury  who  snatched  away  the 
viands  from  their  lips  as  fast  as  they  prepared  to  taste 
them.  Others  beheld  suspended  over  their  heads  huge 
rocks,  threatening  to  fall,  keeping  them  in  a  state  of 
constant  alarm.  These  were  they  who  had  hated  their 
brothers,  or  struck  their  parents,  or  defrauded  the 
friends  who  trusted  them,  or  who,  having  grown  rich, 
kept  their  money  to  themselves,  and  gave  no  share  to 
others;  the  last  being  the  most  numerous  class.  Here 
also  were  those  who  had  violated  the  marriage  vow,  or 
fought  in  a  bad  cause,  or  failed  in  fidelity  to  their  em- 
ployers. Here  was  one  who  had  sold  his  country  for 
gold,  another  who  perverted  the  laws,  making  them  say 
one  thing  to-day  and  another  to-morrow. 

Ixion  was  there,  fastened  to  the  circumference  of  a 
wheel  ceaselessly  revolving;  and  Sisyphus,  whose  task 
was  to  roll  a  huge  stone  up  to  a  hill-top,  but  when  the 
steep  was  well-nigh  gained,  the  rock,  repulsed  by  some 
sudden  force,  rushed  again  headlong  down  to  the  plain. 
Again  he  toiled  at  it,  while  the  sweat  bathed  all  his 
weary  limbs,  but  all  to  no  effect.  There  was  Tantalus, 
who  stood  in  a  pool,  his  chin  level  with  the  water,  yet 
he  was  parched  with  thirst,  and  found  nothing  to  as- 
suage it;  for  when  he  bowed  his  hoary  head,  eager  to 
quaff,  the  water  fled  away,  leaving  the  ground  at  his 
feet  all  dry.  Tall  trees  laden  with  fruit  stooped  their 
heads  to  him,  pears,  pomegranates,  apples,  and  luscious 
figs;  but  when  with  a  sudden  grasp  he  tried  to  seize 
them  winds  whirled  them  high  above  his  reach. 

The  Sibyl  now  warned  ^Eneas  that  it  was  time  to 
turn  from  these  melancholy  regions  and  seek  the  city  of 
the  blessed.  They  passed  through  a  middle  tract  of 
darkness,  and  came  upon  the  Elysian  fields,  the  groves 
where  the  happy  reside.  They  breathed  a  freer  air, 
and  saw  all  objects  clothed  in  a  purple  light.  The  re- 
gion has  a  sun  and  stars  of  its  own.  The  inhabitants 
were  enjoying  themselves  in  various  ways,  some  in 
sports  on  the  grassy  turf,  in  games  of  strength  or  skill. 


THE  INFERNAL  REGIONS  271 

others  dancing  or  singing.  Orpheus  struck  the  chords 
of  his  lyre,  and  called  forth  ravishing  sounds.  Here 
^Eneas  saw  the  founders  of  the  Trojan  state,  magnani- 
mous heroes  who  lived  in  happier  times.  He  gazed 
with  admiration  on  the  war  chariots  and  glittering  arms 
now  reposing  in  disuse.  Spears  stood  fixed  in  the 
ground,  and  the  horses,  unharnessed,  roamed  over  the 
plain.  The  same  pride  in  splendid  armor  and  generous 
steeds  which  the  old  heroes  felt  in  life,  accompanied 
them  here.  He  saw  another  group  feasting  and  listen- 
ing to  the  strains  of  music.  They  were  in  a  laurel  grove, 
whence  the  great  river  Po  has  its  origin,  and  flows  out 
among  men.  Here  dwelt  those  who  fell  by  wounds  re- 
ceived in  their  country's  cause,  holy  priests  also,  and 
poets  who  have  uttered  thoughts  worthy  of  Apollo,  and 
others  who  have  contributed  to  cheer  and  adorn  life  by 
their  discoveries  in  the  useful  arts,  and  have  made  their 
memory  blessed  by  rendering  service  to  mankind.  They 
wore  snow-white  fillets  about  their  brows.  The  Sibyl 
addressed  a  group  of  these,  and  inquired  where  Anchises 
was  to  be  found.  They  were  directed  where  to  seek 
him,  and  soon  found  him  in  a  verdant  valley,  where  he 
was  contemplating  the  ranks  of  his  posterity,  their  des- 
tinies and  worthy  deeds  to  be  achieved  in  coming  times. 
When  he  recognized  ^Eneas  approaching,  he  stretched 
out  both  hands  to  him,  while  tears  flowed  freely.  "Have 
you  come  at  last,"  said  he,  "long  expected,  and  do  I  be- 
hold you  after  such  perils  past?  O  my  son,  how  have 
I  trembled  for  you  as  I  have  watched  your  career!" 
To  which  y£neas  replied,  "O  father!  your  image  was 
always  before  me  to  guide  and  guard  me."  Then  he 
endeavored  to  enfold  his  father  in  his  embrace,  but  his 
arms  enclosed  only  an  unsubstantial  image. 

-3±neas  perceived  before  him  a  spacious  valley,  with 
trees  gently  waving  to  the  wind,  a  tranquil  landscape, 
through  which  the  river  Lethe  flowed.  Along  the 
banks  of  the  stream  wandered  a  countless  multitude, 
numerous  as  insects  in  the  summer  air.  ^neas,  with 
surprise,  inquired  who  were  these.  Anchises  answered, 
"They  are  souls  to  which  bodies  are  to  be  given  in  due 
time.  Meanwhile  they  dwell  on  Lethe's  bank,  and  drink 


272        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

oblivion  of  their  former  lives."  "O  father!"  said 
-tineas,  "is  it  possible  that  any  can  be  so  in  love  with 
life  as  to  wish  to  leave  these  tranquil  seats  for  the 
upper  world?"  Anchises  replied  by  explaining  the  plan 
of  creation.  The  Creator,  he  told  him,  originally  made 
the  material  of  which  souls  are  composed  of  the  four 
elements,  fire,  air,  earth,  and  water,  all  which  when 
united  took  the  form  of  the  most  excellent  part,  fire,  and 
became  flame.  This  material  was  scattered  like  seed 
among  the  heavenly  bodies,  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars. 
Of  this  seed  the  inferior  gods  created  man  and  all  other 
animals,  mingling  it  with  various  proportions  of  earth, 
by  which  its  purity  was  alloyed  and  reduced.  Thus,  the 
more  earth  predominates  in  the  composition  the  less  pure 
is  the  individual;  and  we  see  men  and  women  with 
their  full-grown  bodies  have  not  the  purity  of  child- 
hood. So  in  proportion  to  the  time  which  the  union  of 
body  and  soul  has  lasted  is  the  impurity  contracted  by 
che  spiritual  part.  This  impurity  must  be  purged  away 
after  death,  which  is  done  by  ventilating  the  souls  in 
*he  current  of  winds,  or  merging  them  in  water,  or 
burning  out  their  impurities  by  fire.  Some  few,  of  whom 
Anchises  intimates  that  he  is  one,  are  admitted  at  once 
to  Elysium,  there  to  remain.  But  the  rest,  after  the 
impurities  of  earth  are  purged  away,  are  sent  back  to 
life  endowed  with  new  bodies,  having  had  the  remem- 
brance of  their  former  lives  effectually  washed  away  by 
the  waters  of  Lethe.  Some,  however,  there  still  are,  so 
thoroughly  corrupted,  that  they  are  not  fit  to  be  in- 
trusted with  human  bodies,  and  these  are  made  into 
brute  animals,  lions,  tigers,  cats,  dogs,  monkeys,  etc. 
This  is  what  the  ancients  called  Metempsychosis,  or  the 
transmigration  of  souls;  a  doctrine  which  is  still  held  by 
the  natives  of  India,  who  scruple  to  destroy  the  life  even 
of  the  most  insignificant  animal,  not  knowing  but  it  may 
be  one  of  their  relations  in  an  altered  form. 

Anchises,  having  explained  so  much,  proceeded  to 
point  out  to  ^neas  individuals  of  his  race,  who  were 
hereafter  to  be  born,  and  to  relate  to  him  the  exploits 
they  should  perform  in  the  world.  After  this  he  re- 
verted to  the  present,  and  told  his  son  of  the  events  that 


ELYSIUM  273 

remained  to  him  to  IDC  accomplished  before  the  complete 
establishment  of  himself  and  his  followers  in  Italy. 
Wars  were  to  be  waged,  battles  fought,  a  bride  to  be 
won,  and  in  the  result  a  Trojan  state  founded,  from 
which  should  rise  the  Roman  power,  to  be  in  time  the 
sovereign  of  the  world. 

^Eneas  and  the  Sibyl  then  took  leave  of  Anchises,  and 
returned  by  some  short  cut,  which  the  poet  does  not 
explain,  to  the  upper  world. 

ELYSIUM 

Virgil,  we  have  seen,  places  his  Elysium  under  the 
earth,  and  assigns  it  for  a  residence  to  the  spirits  of 
the  blessed.  But  in  Homer  Elysium  forms  no  part  of 
the  realms  of  the  dead.  He  places  it  on  the  west  of  the 
earth,  near  Ocean,  and  describes  it  as  a  happy  land, 
where  there  is  neither  snow,  nor  cold,  nor  rain,  and 
always  fanned  by  the  delightful  breezes  of  Zephyrus. 
Hither  favored  heroes  pass  without  dying  and  live  happy 
under  the  rule  of  Rhadamanthus.  The  Elysium  of 
Hesiod  and  Pindar  is  in  the  Isles  of  the  Blessed,  or 
Fortunate  Islands,  in  the  Western  Ocean.  From  these 
sprang  the  legend  of  the  happy  island  Atlantis.  This 
blissful  region  may  have  been  wholly  imaginary,  but 
possibly  may  have  sprung  from  the  reports  of  some 
storm-driven  mariners  who  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
coast  of  America. 

J.  R.  Lowell,  in  one  of  his  shorter  poems,  claims  for 
the  present  age  some  of  the  privileges  of  that  happy 
realm.  Addressing  the  Past,  he  says: 

"Whatever  of  true  life  there  was  in  thee, 
Leaps  in  our  age's  veins. 

Here,  'mid  the  bleak  waves  of  our  strife  and  care, 

Float  the  green  'Fortunate  Isles/ 
Where  all  thy  hero-spirits  dwell  and  share 
Our  martyrdoms  and  toils. 

The  present  moves  attended 
With  all  of  brave  and  excellent  and  fair 
That  made  the  old  time  splendid." 


274       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Milton  also  alludes  to  the  same  fable  in  "Paradise 
Lost,"  Book  III.,  1.  568: 

"Like  those  Hesperian  gardens  famed  of  old, 
Fortunate  fields  and  groves  and  flowery  vales, 
Thrice  happy  isles." 

And  in  Book  II.  he  characterizes  the  rivers  of  Erebus 
according  to  the  meaning  of  their  names  in  the  Greek 
language : 

"Abhorred  Styx,  the  flood  of  deadly  hate, 
Sad  Acheron  of  sorrow  black  and  deep; 
Cocytus  named  of  lamentation  loud 
Heard  on  the  rueful  stream ;  fierce  Phlegethon 
Whose  waves  of  torrent  fire  inflame  with  rage. 
Far  off  from  these  a  slow  and  silent  stream, 
Lethe,  the  river  of  oblivion,  rolls 
Her  watery  labyrinth,  whereof  who  drinks 
Forthwith  his  former  state  and  being  forgets, 
Forgets  both  joy  and  grief,  pleasure  and  pain." 

THE   SIBYL 

As  -/Eneas  and  the  Sibyl  pursued  their  way  back  to 
earth,  he  said  to  her,  "Whether  thou  be  a  goddess  or 
a  mortal  beloved  of  the  gods,  by  me  thou  shalt  always 
be  held  in  reverence.  When  I  reach  the  upper  air  I 
will  cause  a  temple  to  be  built  to  thy  honor,  and  will 
myself  bring  offerings/'  "I  am  no  goddess,"  said  the 
Sibyl ;  "I  have  no  claim  to  sacrifice  or  offering.  I  am 
mortal ;  yet  if  I  could  have  accepted  the  love  of  Apollo 
I  might  have  been  immortal.  He  promised  me  the  ful- 
filment of  my  wish,  if  I  would  consent  to  be  his.  I 
took  a  handful  of  sand,  and  holding  it  forth,  said,  'Grant 
me  to  see  as  many  birthdays  as  there  are  sand  grains 
in  my  hand/  Unluckily  I  forgot  to  ask  for  enduring 
youth.  This  also  he  would  have  granted,  could  I  have 
accepted  his  love,  but  offended  at  my  refusal,  he  allowed 
me  to  grow  old.  My  youth  and  youthful  strength  fled 
long  ago.  I  have  lived  seven  hundred  years,  and  to 
equal  the  number  of  the  sand  grains  I  have  still  to  see 
three  hundred  springs  and  three  hundred  harvests.  My 
body  shrinks  up  as  years  increase,  and  in  time,  I  shall 
be  lost  to  sight,  but  my  voice  will  remain,  and  future 
ages  will  respect  my  sayings." 


THE  SIBYL  275 

These  concluding  words  of  the  Sibyl  alluded  to  her 
prophetic  power.  In  her  cave  she  was  accustomed  to 
inscribe  on  leaves  gathered  from  the  trees  the  names 
and  fates  of  individuals.  The  leaves  thus  inscribed  were 
arranged  in  order  within  the  cave,  and  might  be  con- 
sulted by  her  votaries.  But  if  perchance  at  the  opening 
of  the  door  the  wind  rushed  in  and  dispersed  the  leaves 
the  Sibyl  gave  no  aid  to  restoring  them  again,  and  the 
oracle  was  irreparably  lost. 

The  following  legend  of  the  Sibyl  is  fixed  at  a  later 
date.  In  the  reign  of  one  of  the  Tarquins  there  ap- 
peared before  the  king  a  woman  who  offered  him  nine 
books  for  sale.  The  king  refused  to  purchase  them, 
whereupon  the  woman  went  away  and  burned  three  of 
the  books,  and  returning  offered  the  remaining  books 
for  the  same  price  she  had  asked  for  the  nine.  The 
king  again  rejected  them;  but  when  the  woman,  after 
burning  three  books  more,  returned  and  asked  for  the 
three  remaining  the  same  price  which  she  had  before 
asked  for  the  nine,  his  curiosity  was  excited,  and  he 
purchased  the  books.  They  were  found  to  contain  the 
destinies  of  the  Roman  state.  They  were  kept  in  the 
temple  of  Jupiter  Capitolinus,  preserved  in  a  stone  chest, 
and  allowed  to  be  inspected  only  by  especial  officers  ap- 
pointed for  that  duty,  who,  on  great  occasions,  consulted 
them  and  interpreted  their  oracles  to  the  people. 

There  were  various  Sibyls ;  but  the  Cumaean  Sibyl,  of 
whom  Ovid  and  Virgil  write,  is  the  most  celebrated  of 
them.  Ovid's  story  of  her  life  protracted  to  one  thousand 
years  may  be  intended  to  represent  the  various  Sibyls 
as  being  only  reappearances  of  one  and  the  same  in- 
dividual. 

Young,  in  the  "Night  Thoughts,"  alludes  to  the  Sibyl. 
Speaking  of  Worldly  Wisdom,  he  says : 

"If  future  fate  she  plans  'tis  all  in  leaves, 
Like  Sibyl,  unsubstantial,  fleeting  bliss; 
At  the  first  blast  it  vanishes  in  air. 

As  worldly  schemes  resemble  Sibyl's  leaves, 
The  good  man's  days  to  Sibyl's  books  compare, 
The  price  still  rising  as  in  number  less." 


276        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

CAMILLA  —  EVANDER  —  NISUS    AND   EURYALUS  —  MEZENTIUS 
-  TURNUS 


S,  having  parted  from  the  Sibyl  and  rejoined 
his  fleet,  coasted  along  the  shores  of  Italy  and  cast  anchor 
in  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber.  The  poet,  having  brought 
his  hero  to  this  spot,  the  destined  termination  of  his  wan- 
derings, invokes  his  Muse  to  tell  him  the  situation  of 
things  at  that  eventful  moment.  Latinus,  third  in  descent 
from  Saturn,  ruled  the  country.  He  was  now  old  and 
had  no  male  descendant,  but  had  one  charming  daughter, 
Lavinia,  who  was  sought  in  marriage  by  many  neighbor- 
ing chiefs,  one  of  whom,  Turnus,  king  of  the  Rutulians, 
was  favored  by  the  wishes  of  her  parents.  But  Latinus 
had  been  warned  in  a  dream  by  his  father  Faunus,  that 
the  destined  husband  of  Lavinia  should  come  from  a  for- 
eign land.  From  that  union  should  spring  a  race  destined 
to  subdue  the  world. 

Our  readers  will  remember  that  in  the  conflict  with 
the  Harpies  one  of  those  half-human  birds  had  threat- 
ened the  Trojans  with  dire  sufferings.  In  particular  she 
predicted  that  before  their  wanderings  ceased  they 
should  be  pressed  by  hunger  to  devour  their  tables.  This 
portent  now  came  true;  for  as  they  took  their  scanty 
meal,  seated  on  the  grass,  the  men  placed  their  hard  bis- 
cuit on  their  laps,  and  put  thereon  whatever  their  glean- 
ings in  the  woods  supplied.  Having  despatched  the 
latter  they  finished  by  eating  the  crusts.  Seeing  which, 
the  boy  lulus  said  playfully,  "See,  we  are  eating  our 
tables."  ^Eneas  caught  the  words  and  accepted  the  omen. 
"All  hail,  promised  land!"  he  exclaimed,  "this  is  our 
home,  this  our  country."  He  then  took  measures  to  find 
out  who  were  the  present  inhabitants  of  the  land,  and 
who  their  rulers.  A  hundred  chosen  men  were  sent 
to  the  village  of  Latinus,  bearing  presents  and  a  re- 
quest for  friendship  and  alliance.  They  went  and  were 
favorably  received.  Latinus  immediately  concluded  that 


OPENING  THE  GATES  OF  JANUS        277 

the  Trojan  hero  was  no  other  than  the  promised  son-in- 
law  announced  by  the  oracle.  He  cheerfully  granted 
his  alliance  and  sent  back  the  messengers  mounted  on 
steeds  from  his  stables,  and  loaded  with  gifts  and 
friendly  messages. 

Juno,  seeing  things  go  thus  prosperously  for  the  Tro- 
jans, felt  her  old  animosity  revive,  summoned  Alecto 
from  Erebus,  and  sent  her  to  stir  up  discord.  The  Fury 
first  took  possession  of  the  queen,  Amata,  and  roused 
her  to  oppose  in  every  way  the  new  alliance.  Alecto 
then  speeded  to  the  city  of  Turnus,  and  assuming  the 
form  of  an  old  priestess,  informed  him  of  the  arrival  of 
the  foreigners  and  of  the  attempts  of  their  prince  to  rob 
him  of  his  bride.  Next  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
camp  of  the  Trojans.  There  she  saw  the  boy  lulus  and 
his  companions  amusing  themselves  with  hunting.  She 
sharpened  the  scent  of  the  dogs,  and  led  them  to  rouse 
up  from  the  thicket  a  tame  stag,  the  favorite  of  Silvia, 
the  daughter  of  Tyrrheus,  the  king's  herdsman.  A  javelin 
from  the  hand  of  lulus  wounded  the  animal,  and  he  had 
only  strength  left  to  run  homewards,  and  died  at  his  mis- 
tress's feet.  Her  cries  and  tears  roused  her  brothers  and 
the  herdsmen,  and  they,  seizing  whatever  weapons  came 
to  hand,  furiously  assaulted  the  hunting  party.  These 
were  protected  by  their  friends,  and  the  herdsmen  were 
finally  driven  back  with  the  loss  of  two  of  their  number. 

These  things  were  enough  to  rouse  the  storm  of  war, 
and  the  queen,  Turnus,  and  the  peasants  all  urged  the 
old  king  to  drive  the  strangers  from  the  country.  He 
resisted  as  long  as  he  could,  but,  finding  his  opposition 
unavailing,  finally  gave  way  and  retreated  to  his  retire- 
ment. 


OPENING  THE  GATES  OF  JANUS 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  country,  when  war  was  to 
be  undertaken,  for  the  chief  magistrate,  clad  in  his  robes 
of  office,  with  solemn  pomp  to  open  the  gates  of  the 
temple  of  Janus,  which  were  kept  shut  as  long  as  peace 
endured.  His  people  now  urged  the  old  king  to  perform 
that  solemn  office,  but  he  refused  to  do  so.  While  they 


278        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

contested,  Juno  herself,  descending  from  the  skies,  smote 
the  doors  with  irresistible  force,  and  burst  them  open. 
Immediately  the  whole  country  was  in  a  flame.  The 
people  rushed  from  every  side  breathing  nothing  but 
war. 

Turnus  was  recognized  by  all  as  leader;  others  joined 
as  allies,  chief  of  whom  was  Mezentius,  a  brave  and  able 
soldier,  but  of  detestable  cruelty.  He  had  been  the  chief 
of  one  of  the  neighboring  cities,  but  his  people  drove 
him  out.  With  him  was  joined  his  son  Lausus,  a  gen- 
erous youth,  worthy  of  a  better  sire. 

CAMILLA 

Camilla,  the  favorite  of  Diana,  a  huntress  and  warrior, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Amazons,  came  with  her  band 
of  mounted  followers,  including  a  select  number  of  her 
own  sex,  and  ranged  herself  on  the  side  of  Turnus. 
This  maiden  had  never  accustomed  her  fingers  to  the 
distaff  or  the  loom,  but  had  learned  to  endure  the  toils 
of  war,  and  in  speed  to  outstrip  the  wind.  It  seemed  as 
if  she  might  run  over  the  standing  corn  without  crushing 
it,  or  over  the  surface  of  the  water  without  dipping  her 
feet.  Camilla's  history  had  been  singular  from  the  begin- 
ning. Her  father,  Metabus,  driven  from  his  city  by  civil 
discord,  carried  with  him  in  his  flight  his  infant  daughter. 
As  he  fled  through  the  woods,  his  enemies  in  hot  pursuit, 
he  reached  the  bank  of  the  river  Amazenus,  which, 
swelled  by  rains,  seemed  to  debar  a  passage.  He  paused 
for  a  moment,  then  decided  what  to  do.  He  tied 
the  infant  to  his  lance  with  wrappers  of  bark,  and  poising 
the  weapon  in  his  upraised  hand  thus  addressed  Diana: 
"Goddess  of  the  woods !  I  consecrate  this  maid  to  you ;" 
then  hurled  the  weapon  with  its  burden  to  the  opposite 
bank.  The  spear  flew  across  the  roaring  water.  His 
pursuers  were  already  upon  him,  but  he  plunged  into 
the  river  and  swam  across,  and  found  the  spear,  with 
the  infant  safe  on  the  other  side.  Thenceforth  he  lived 
among  the  shepherds  and  brought  up  his  daughter  in 
woodland  arts.  While  a  child  she  was  taught  to  use  the 
bow  and  throw  the  javelin.  With  her  sling  she  could 


EVANDER  279 

bring  down  the  crane  or  the  wild  swan.  Her  dress  was  a 
tiger's  skin.  Many  mothers  sought  her  for  a  daughter- 
in-law,  but  she  continued  faithful  to  Diana  and  repelled 
the  thought  of  marriage. 

EVANDER 

Such  were  the  formidable  allies  that  ranged  them- 
selves against  ^neas.  It  was  night  and  he  lay  stretched 
in  sleep  on  the  bank  of  the  river  under  the  open  heavens. 
The  god  of  the  stream,  Father  Tiber,  seemed  to  raise 
his  head  above  the  willows  and  to  say,  "O  goddess-born, 
destined  possessor  of  the  Latin  realms,  this  is  the  prom- 
ised land,  here  is  to  be  your  home,  here  shall  terminate 
the  hostility  of  the  heavenly  powers,  if  only  you  faith- 
fully persevere.  There  are  friends  not  far  distant.  Pre- 
pare your  boats  and  row  up  my  stream;  I  will  lead  you 
to  Evander,  the  Arcadian  chief,  he  has  long  been  at 
strife  with  Turnus  and  the  Rutulians,  and  is  pre- 
pared to  become  an  ally  of  yours.  Rise!  offer  your 
vows  to  Juno,  and  deprecate  her  anger.  When  you  have 
achieved  your  victory  then  think  of  me."  ^Eneas  woke 
and  paid  immediate  obedience  to  the  friendly  vision.  He 
sacrificed  to  Juno,  and  invoked  the  god  of  the  river  and 
all  his  tributary  fountains  to  lend  their  aid.  Then  for 
the  first  time  a  vessel  filled  with  armed  warriors  floated 
on  the  stream  of  the  Tiber.  The  river  smoothed  its 
waves,  and  bade  its  current  flow  gently,  while,  impelled 
by  the  vigorous  strokes  of  the  rowers,  the  vessels  shot 
rapidly  up  the  stream. 

About  the  middle  of  the  day  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  scattered  buildings  of  the  infant  town,  where  in  after 
times  the  proud  city  of  Rome  grew,  whose  glory  reached 
the  skies.  By  chance  the  old  king,  Evander,  was  that 
day  celebrating  annual  solemnities  in  honor  of  Hercules 
and  all  the  gods.  Pallas,  his  son,  and  all  the  chiefs  of 
the  little  commonwealth  stood  by.  When  they  saw  the 
tall  ship  gliding  onward  near  the  wood,  they  were 
alarmed  at  the  sight,  and  rose  from  the  tables.  But 
Pallas  forbade  the  solemnities  to  be  interrupted,  and 
seizing  a  weapon,  stepped  forward  to  the  river's  bank. 


280        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

He  called  aloud,  demanding  who  they  were,  and  what 
their  object,  JEneas,  holding  forth  an  olive-branch, 
replied,  "We  are  Trojans,  friends  to  you,  and  enemies 
to  the  Rutulians.  We  seek  Evander,  and  offer  to  join 
our  arms  with  yours."  Pallas,  in  amaze  at  the  sound  of 
so  great  a  name,  invited  them  to  land,  and  when  ^Eneas 
touched  the  shore  he  seized  his  hand,  and  held  it  long  in 
friendly  grasp.  Proceeding  through  the  wood,  they 
joined  the  king  and  his  party  and  were  most  favorably 
received.  Seats  were  provided  for  them  at  the  tables, 
and  the  repast  proceeded. 

INFANT  ROME 

When  the  solemnities  were  ended  all  moved  towards 
the  city.  The  king,  bending  with  age,  walked  be- 
tween his  son  and  ^neas,  taking  the  arm  of  one  or  the 
other  of  them,  and  with  much  variety  of  pleasing  talk 
shortening  the  way.  ^Eneas  with  delight  looked  and 
listened,  observing  all  the  beauties  of  the  scene,  and 
learning  much  of  heroes  renowned  in  ancient  times. 
Evander  said,  "These  extensive  groves  were  once  in- 
habited by  fauns  and  nymphs,  and  a  rude  race  of  men 
who  sprang  from  the  trees  themselves,  and  had  neither 
laws  nor  social  culture.  They  knew  not  how  to  yoke  the 
cattle  nor  raise  a  harvest,  nor  provide  from  present  abun- 
dance for  future  want ;  but  browsed  like  beasts  upon  the 
leafy  boughs,  or  fed  voraciously  on  their  hunted  prey. 
Such  were  they  when  Saturn,  expelled  from  Olympus  by 
his  sons,  came  among  them  and  drew  together  the  fierce 
savages,  formed  them  into  society,  and  gave  them  laws. 
Such  peace  and  plenty  ensued  that  men  ever  since  have 
called  his  reign  the  golden  age ;  but  by  degrees  far  other 
times  succeeded,  and  the  thirst  of  gold  and  the  thirst  of 
blood  prevailed.  The  land  was  a  prey  to  successive  ty- 
rants, till  fortune  and  resistless  destiny  brought  me 
hither,  an  exile  from  my  native  land,  Arcadia." 

Having  thus  said,  he  showed  him  the  Tarpeian  rock, 
and  the  rude  spot  then  overgrown  with  bushes  where  in 
after  times  the  Capitol  rose  in  all  its  magnificence.  He 
next  pointed  to  some  dismantled  walls,  and  said,  "Here 


INFANT  ROME  281 

stood  Janiculum,  built  by  Janus,  and  there  Saturnia,  the 
town  of  Saturn."  Such  discourse  brought  them  to  the 
cottage  of  poor  Evander,  whence  they  saw  the  lowing 
herds  roaming  over  the  plain  where  now  the  proud  and 
stately  Forum  stands.  They  entered,  and  a  couch  was 
spread  for  ^Eneas,  well  stuffed  with  leaves,  and  covered 
with  the  skin  of  a  Libyan  bear. 

Next  morning,  awakened  by  the  dawn  and  the  shrill 
song  of  birds  beneath  the  eaves  of  his  low  mansion,  old 
Evander  rose.  Clad  in  a  tunic,  and  a  panther's  skin 
thrown  over  his  shoulders,  with  sandals  on  his  feet  and 
his  good  sword  girded  to  his  side,  he  went  forth  to  seek 
his  guest.  Two  mastiffs  followed  him,  his  whole  retinue 
and  body  guard.  He  found  the  hero  attended  by  his 
faithful  Achates,  and,  Pallas  soon  joining  them,  the  old 
king  spoke  thus : 

"Illustrious  Trojan,  it  is  but  little  we  can  do  in  so 
great  a  cause.  Our  state  is  feeble,  hemmed  in  on  one 
side  by  the  river,  on  the  other  by  the  Rutulians.  But  I 
propose  to  ally  you  with  a  people  numerous  and  rich,  to 
whom  fate  has  brought  you  at  the  propitious  moment. 
The  Etruscans  hold  the  country  beyond  the  river.  Mezen- 
tius  was  their  king,  a  monster  of  cruelty,  who  invented 
unheard-of  torments  to  gratify  his  vengeance.  He 
would  fasten  the  dead  to  the  living,  hand  to  hand  and 
face  to  face,  and  leave  the  wretched  victims  to  die  in 
that  dreadful  embrace.  At  length  the  people  cast  him 
out,  him  and  his  house.  They  burned  his  palace  and 
slew  his  friends.  He  escaped  and  took  refuge  with 
Turnus,  who  protects  him  with  arms.  The  Etruscans 
demand  that  he  shall  be  given  up  to  deserved  punishment, 
and  would  ere  now  have  attempted  to  enforce  their  de- 
mand; but  their  priests  restrain  them,  telling  them  that 
it  is  the  will  of  heaven  that  no  native  of  the  land  shall 
guide  them  to  victory,  and  that  their  destined  leader 
must  come  from  across  the  sea.  They  have  offered  the 
crown  to  me,  but  I  am  top  old  to  undertake  such  great 
affairs,  and  my  son  is  native-born,  which  precludes  him 
from  the  choice.  You,  equally  by  birth  and  time  of  life, 
and  fame  in  arms,  pointed  out  by  the  gods,  have  but  to 
appear  to  be  hailed  at  once  as  their  leader.  With  you 


282       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

I  will  join  Pallas,  my  son,  my  only  hope  and  comfort. 
Under  you  he  shall  learn  the  art  of  war,  and  strive  to 
emulate  your  great  exploits." 

Then  the  king  ordered  horses  to  be  furnished  for 
the  Trojan  chiefs,  and  ^neas,  with  a  chosen  band  of 
followers  and  Pallas  accompanying,  mounted  and  took 
the  way  to  the  Etruscan  city,1  having  sent  back  the  rest 
of  his  party  in  the  ships.  ^Eneas  and  his  band  safely  ar- 
rived at  the  Etruscan  camp  and  were  received  with  open 
arms  by  Tarchon  and  his  countrymen. 

NISUS  AND  EURYALUS 

In  the  meanwhile  Turnus  had  collected  his  bands  and 
made  all  necessary  preparations  for  the  war.  Juno  sent 
Iris  to  him  with  a  message  inciting  him  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  absence  of  tineas  and  surprise  the  Trojan 
camp.  Accordingly  the  attempt  was  made,  but  the  Tro- 
jans were  found  on  their  guard,  and  having  received 
strict  orders  from  yEneas  not  to  fight  in  his  absence,  they 
lay  still  in  their  intrenchments,  and  resisted  all  the  efforts 
of  the  Rutulians  to  draw  them  into  the  field.  Night 
coming  on,  the  army  of  Turnus,  in  high  spirits  at  their 
fancied  superiority,  feasted  and  enjoyed  themselves,  and 
finally  stretched  themselves  on  the  field  and  slept  secure. 

In  the  camp  of  the  Trojans  things  were  far  otherwise. 
There  all  was  watchfulness  and  anxiety  and  impatience 
for  ^neas's  return.  Nisus  stood  guard  at  the  entrance 
of  the  camp,  and  Euryalus,  a  youth  distinguished  above 
all  in  the  army  for  graces  of  person  and  fine  qualities, 
was  with  him.  These  two  were  friends  and  brothers 
in  arms.  Nisus  said  to  his  friend,  "Do  you  per- 
ceive what  confidence  and  carelessness  the  enemy  dis- 
play? Their  lights  are  few  and  dim,  and  the  men  seem 
all  oppressed  with  wine  or  sleep.  You  know  how  anx- 
iously our  chiefs  wish  to  send  to  ^neas,  and  to  get  intel- 
ligence from  him.  Now,  I  am  strongly  moved  to  make 
my  way  through  the  enemy's  camp  and  to  go  in  search 

1  The  poet  here  inserts  a  famous  line  which  is  thought  to  imitate  in  its 
sound  the  galloping  of  horses.  It  may  be  thus  translated:  "Then  struck 
the  hoofs  of  the  steeds  on  the  ground  with  a  four-footed  trampling." — 
See  Proverbial  Expressions. 


NISUS  AND  EURYALUS  283 

of  our  chief.  If  I  succeed,  the  glory  of  the  deed  will  be 
reward  enough  for  me,  and  if  they  judge  the  service 
deserves  anything  more,  let  them  pay  it  to  you." 

Euryalus,  all  on  fire  with  the  love  of  adventure,  re- 
plied, "Would  you,  then,  Nisus,  refuse  to  share  your 
enterprise  with  me?  And  shall  I  let  you  go  into  such 
danger  alone?  Not  so  my  brave  father  brought  me  up, 
nor  so  have  I  planned  for  myself  when  I  joined  the 
standard  of  ^Eneas,  and  resolved  to  hold  my  life  cheap 
in  comparison  with  honor."  Nisus  replied,  "I  doubt  it 
not,  my  friend;  but  you  know  the  uncertain  event  of 
such  an  undertaking,  and  whatever  may  happen  to  me,  I 
wish  you  to  be  safe.  You  are  younger  th?n  I  and  have 
more  of  life  in  prospect.  Nor  can  I  be  the  cause  of  such 
grief  to  your  mother,  who  has  chosen  to  be  here  in  the 
camp  with  you  rather  than  stay  and  live  in  peace  with 
the  other  matrons  in  Acestes'  city."  Euryalus  replied, 
"Say  no  more.  In  vain  you  seek  arguments  to  dissuade 
me.  I  am  fixed  in  the  resolution  to  go  with  you.  Let  us 
lose  no  time."  They  called  the  guard,  and  committing 
the  watch  to  them,'  sought  the  general's  tent.  They 
found  the  chief  officers  in  consultation,  deliberating  how 
they  should  send  notice  to  -#Lneas  of  their  situation.  The 
offer  of  the  two  friends  was  gladly  accepted,  themselves 
loaded  with  praises  and  promised  the  most  liberal  re- 
wards in  case  of  success.  lulus  especially  addressed 
Euryalus,  assuring  him  of  his  lasting  friendship.  Eury- 
alus replied,  "I  have  but  one  boon  to  ask.  My  aged 
mother  is  with  me  in  the  camp.  For  me  she  left  the  Trojan 
soil,  and  would  not  stay  behind  with  the  other  matrons 
at  the  city  of  Acestes.  I  go  now  without  taking  leave  of 
her.  I  could  not  bear  her  tears  nor  set  at  nought  her  en- 
treaties. But  do  thou,  I  beseech  you,  comfort  her  in  her 
distress.  Promise  me  that  and  I  shall  go  more  boldly 
into  whatever  dangers  may  present  themselves."  lulus 
and  the  other  chiefs  were  moved  to  tears,  and  prom- 
ised to  do  all  his  request.  "Your  mother  shall  be  mine," 
said  lulus,  "and  all  that  I  have  promised  to  you  shall  be 
made  good  to  her,  if  you  do  not  return  to  receive  it." 

The  two  friends  left  the  camp  and  plunged  at  once 
into  the  midst  of  the  enemy.     They  found  no  watch, 


284       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

no  sentinels  posted,  but,  all  about,  the  sleeping  soldiers 
strewn  on  the  grass  and  among  the  wagons.  The  laws 
of  war  at  that  early  day  did  not  forbid  a  brave  man  to 
slay  a  sleeping  foe,  and  the  two  Trojans  slew,  as  they 
passed,  such  of  the  enemy  as  they  could  without  exciting 
alarm.  In  one  tent  Euryalus  made  prize  of  a  helmet 
brilliant  with  gold  and  plumes.  They  had  passed  through 
the  enemy's  ranks  without  being  discovered,  but  now 
suddenly  appeared  a  troop  directly  in  front  of  them, 
which,  under  Volscens,  their  leader,  were  approaching 
the^  camp.  The  glittering  helmet  of  Euryalus  caught 
their  attention,  and  Volscens  hailed  the  two,  and  de- 
manded who  and  whence  they  were.  They  made  no 
answer,  but  plunged  into  the  wood.  The  horsemen 
scattered  in  all  directions  to  intercept  their  flight.  Nisus 
had  eluded  pursuit  and  was  out  of  danger,  but  Euryalus 
being  missing  he  turned  back  to  seek  him.  He  again  en- 
tered the  wood  and  soon  came  within  sound  of  voices. 
Looking  through  the  thicket  he  saw  the  whole  band  sur- 
rounding Euryalus  with  noisy  questions.  What  should 
he  do  ?  how  extricate  the  youth,  or  would  it  be  better  to 
die  with  him. 

Raising  his  eyes  to  the  moon,  which  now  shone  clear, 
he  said,  "Goddess!  favor  my  effort!"  and  aiming  his 
javelin  at  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  troop,  struck  him 
in  the  back  and  stretched  him  on  the  plain  with  a  death- 
blow. In  the  midst  of  their  amazement  another  weapon 
flew  and  another  of  the  party  fell  dead.  Volscens,  the 
leader,  ignorant  whence  the  darts  came,  rushed  sword  in 
hand^upon  Euryalus.  "You  shall  pay  the  penalty  of 
both/'  he  said,  and  would  have  plunged  the  sword  into 
his  bosom,  when  Nisus,  who  from  his  concealment  saw 
the  peril  of  his  friend,  rushed  forward  exclaiming, 
"  'Twas  I,  'twas  I ;  turn  your  swords  against  me,  Ru- 
tulians,  I  did  it;  he  only  followed  me  as  a  friend."  While 
he  spoke  the  sword  fell,  and  pierced  the  comely  bosom 
of  Euryalus.  His  head  fell  over  on  his  shoulder,  like  a 
flower  cut  down  by  the  plough.  Nisus  rushed  upon 
Volscens  and  plunged  his  sword  into  his  body,  and  was 
himself  slain  on  the  instant  by  numberless  blows. 


MEZENTIUS  285 


MEZENTIUS 

with  his  Etrurian  allies,  arrived  on  the  scene 
of  action  in  time  to  rescue  his  beleaguered  camp;  and 
now  the  two  armies  being  nearly  equal  in  strength,  the 
war  began  in  good  earnest.  We  cannot  find  space  for 
all  the  details,  but  must  simply  record  the  fate  of  the 
principal  characters  whom  we  have  introduced  to  our 
readers.  The  tyrant  Mezentius,  finding  himself  engaged 
against  his  revolting  subjects,  raged  like  a  wild  beast. 
He  slew  all  who  dared  to  withstand  him,  and  put  the 
multitude  to  flight  wherever  he  appeared.  At  last  he 
encountered  ^neas,  and  the  armies  stood  still  to  see 
the  issue.  Mezentius  threw  his  spear,  which  striking 
^Eneas's  shield  glanced  off  and  hit  Anthor.  He  was  a 
Grecian  by  birth,  who  had  left  Argos,  his  native  city, 
and  followed  Evander  into  Italy.  The  poet  says  of  him 
with  simple  pathos  which  has  made  the  words  proverbial, 
"He  fell,  unhappy,  by  a  wound  intended  for  another, 
looked  up  at  the  skies,  and  dying  remembered  sweet 
Argos."1  ^Eneas  now  in  turn  hurled  his  lance.  It 
pierced  the  shield  of  Mezentius,  and  wounded  him  in 
the  thigh.  Lausus,  his  son,  could  not  bear  the  sight,  but 
rushed  forward  and  interposed  himself,  while  the  fol- 
lowers pressed  round  Mezentius  and  bore  him  away. 
yEneas  held  his  sword  suspended  over  Lausus  and  de- 
layed to  strike,  but  the  furious  youth  pressed  on  and  he 
was  compelled  to  deal  the  fatal  blow.  Lausus  fell,  and 
^Eneas  bent  over  him  in  pity.  "Hapless  youth,"  he  said, 
"what  can  I  do  for  you  worthy  of  your  praise?  Keep 
those  arms  in  which  you  glory,  and  fear  not  but  that  your 
body  shall  be  restored  to  your  friends,  and  have  due 
funeral  honors."  So  saying,  he  called  the  timid  follow- 
ers and  delivered  the  body  into  their  hands. 

Mezentius  meanwhile  had  been  borne  to  the  riverside, 
and  washed  his  wound.  Soon  the  news  reached  him  of 
Lausus's  death,  and  rage  and  despair  supplied  the  place 
of  strength.  He  mounted  his  horse  and  dashed  into  the 
thickest  of  the  fight,  seeking  yEneas.  Having  found  hin$ 

1  See   Proverbial  Expressions. 


286        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

he  rode  round  him  in  a  circle,  throwing  one  javelin  after 
another,  while  ^Eneas  stood  fenced  with  his  shield,  turn- 
ing every  way  to  meet  them.  At  last,  after  Mezentius 
had  three  times  made  the  circuit,  ^Eneas  threw  his  lance 
directly  at  the  horse's  head.  It  pierced  his  temples  and 
he  fell,  while  a  shout  from  both  armies  rent  the  skies. 
Mezentius  asked  no  mercy,  but  only  that  his  body  might 
be  spared  the  insults  of  his  revolted  subjects,  and  be 
buried  in  the  same  grave  with  his  son.  He  received  the 
fatal  stroke  not  unprepared,  and  poured  out  his  life  and 
his  blood  together. 

PALLAS,  CAMILLA,  TURNUS 

While  these  things  were  doing  in  one  part  of  the  field, 
in  another  Turnus  encountered  the  youthful  Pallas.  The 
contest  between  champions  so  unequally  matched  could 
not  be  doubtful.  Pallas  bore  himself  bravely,  but  fell  by 
the  lance  of  Turnus.  The  victor  almost  relented  when 
he  saw  the  brave  youth  lying  dead  at  his  feet,  and  spared 
to  use  the  privilege  of  a  conqueror  in  despoiling  him  of 
his  arms.  The  belt  only,  adorned  with  studs  and  carv- 
ings of  gold,  he  took  and  clasped  round  his  own  body. 
The  rest  he  remitted  to  the  friends  of  the  slain. 

After  the  battle  there  was  a  cessation  of  arms  for 
some  days  to  allow  both  armies  to  bury  their  dead.  In 
this  interval  ^neas  challenged  Turnus  to  decide  the  con- 
test by  single  combat,  but  Turnus  evaded  the  challenge. 
Another  battle  ensued,  in  which  Camilla,  the  virgin  war- 
rior, was  chiefly  conspicuous.  Her  deeds  of  valor  sur- 
passed those  of  the  bravest  warriors,  and  many  Trojans 
and  Etruscans  fell  pierced  with  her  darts  or  struck  down 
by  her  battle-axe.  At  last  an  Etruscan  named  Aruns, 
who  had  watched  her  long,  seeking  for  some  advantage, 
observed  her  pursuing  a  flying  enemy  whose  splendid 
armor  offered  a  tempting  prize.  Intent  on  the  chase 
she  observed  not  her  danger,  and  the  javelin  of  Aruns 
struck  her  and  inflicted  a  fatal  wound.  She  fell  and 
breathed  her  last  in  the  arms  of  her  attendant  maidens. 
But  Diana,  who  beheld  her  fate,  suffered  not  her 
slaughter  to  be  unavenged.  Aruns,  as  he  stole  away, 


PALLAS,  CAMILLA,  TURNUS  287 

glad,  but  frightened,  was  struck  by  a  secret  arrow, 
launched  by  one  of  the  nymphs  of  Diana's  train,  and 
died  ignobly  and  unknown. 

At  length  the  final  conflict  took  place  between  yEneas 
and  Turnus.  Turnus  had  avoided  the  contest  as  long  as 
he  could,  but  at  last,  impelled  by  the  ill  success  of  his 
arms  and  by  the  murmurs  of  his  followers,  he  braced 
himself  to  the  conflict.  It  could  not  be  doubtful.  On 
the  side  of  -tineas  were  the  expressed  decree  of  destiny, 
the  aid  of  his  goddess-mother  at  every  emergency,  and 
impenetrable  armor  fabricated  by  Vulcan,  at  her  request, 
for  her  son.  Turnus,  on  the  other  hand,  was  deserted 
by  his  celestial  allies,  Juno  having  been  expressly  for- 
bidden by  Jupiter  to  assist  him  any  longer.  Turnus 
threw  his  lance,  but  it  recoiled  harmless  from  the  shield 
of  ^Eneas.  The  Trojan  hero  then  threw  his,  which  pene- 
trated the  shield  of  Turnus,  and  pierced  his  thigh.  Then 
Turnus's  fortitude  forsook  him  and  he  begged  for  mercy ; 
and  yEneas  would  have  given  him  his  life,  but  at  the  in- 
stant his  eye  fell  on  the  belt  of  Pallas,  which  Turnus  had 
taken  from  the  slaughtered  youth.  Instantly  his  rage 
revived,  and  exclaiming,  "Pallas  immolates  thee  with 
this  blow,"  he  thrust  him  through  with  his  sword. 

Here  the  poem  of  the  "y£neid"  closes,  and  we  are 
left  to  infer  that  yEneas,  having  triumphed  over  his  foes, 
obtained  Lavinia  for  his  bride.  Tradition  adds  that  he 
founded  his  city,  and  called  it  after  her  name,  Lavin- 
ium.  His  son  lulus  founded  Alba  Longa,  which  was  the 
birthplace  of  Romulus  and  Remus  and  the  cradle  of 
Rome  itself. 

There  is  an  allusion  to  Camilla  in  those  well-known 
lines  of  Pope,  in  which,  illustrating  the  rule  that  "the 
sound  should  be  an  echo  to  the  sense,"  he  says : 

"When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line  too  labors  and  the  words  move  slow. 
Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 
Flies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn  or  skims  along  the  main." 

— Essay  on  Criticism. 


288        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER  XXXIV 

PYTHAGORAS — EGYPTIAN  DEITIES ORACLES 

PYTHAGORAS 

THE  teachings  of  Anchises  to  ^neas,  respecting  the 
nature  of  the  human  soul,  were  in  conformity  with  the 
doctrines  of  the  Pythagoreans.  Pythagoras  (born  five 
hundred  and  forty  years  B.C.)  was  a  native  of  the 
island  of  Samos,  but  passed  the  chief  portion  of  his 
life  at  Crotona  in  Italy.  He  is  therefore  sometimes 
called  "the  Samian,"  and  sometimes  "the  philosopher  of 
Crotona."  When  young  he  travelled  extensively,  and 
it  is  said  visited  Egypt,  where  he  was  instructed  by  the 
priests  in  all  their  learning,  and  afterwards  journeyed 
to  the  East,  and  visited  the  Persian  and  Chaldean  Magi, 
and  the  Brahmins  of  India. 

At  Crotona,  where  he  finally  established  himself,  his 
extraordinary  qualities  collected  round  him  a  great  num- 
ber of  disciples.  The  inhabitants  were  notorious  for 
luxury  and  licentiousness,  but  the  good  effects  of  his 
influence  were  soon  visible.  Sobriety  and  temperance 
succeeded.  Six  hundred  of  the  inhabitants  became  his 
disciples  and  enrolled  themselves  in  a  society  to  aid  each 
other  in  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  uniting  their  prop- 
erty in  one  common  stock  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole. 
They  were  required  to  practise  the  greatest  purity  and 
simplicity  of  manners.  The  first  lesson  they  learned 
was  silence;  for  a  time  they  were  required  to  be  only 
hearers.  "He  [Pythagoras]  said  so"  (Ipse  dixit),  was 
to  be  held  by  them  as  sufficient,  without  any  proof.  It 
was  only  the  advanced  pupils,  after  years  of  patient 
submission,  who  were  allowed  to  ask  questions  and  to 
state  objections. 

Pythagoras  considered  numbers  as  the  essence  and 
principle  of  all  things,  and  attributed  to  them  a  real  and 
distinct  existence;  so  that,  in  his  view,  they  were  the 
elements  out  of  which  the  universe  was  constructed. 


PYTHAGORAS  289 

How  he  conceived  this  process  has  never  been  satis- 
factorily explained.  He  traced  the  various  forms  and 
phenomena  of  the  world  to  numbers  as  their  basis  and 
essence.  The  "Monad"  or  unit  he  regarded  as  the 
source  of  all  numbers.  The  number  Two  was  imper- 
fect, and  the  cause  of  increase  and  division.  Three  was 
called  the  number  of  the  whole  because  it  had  a  be- 
ginning, middle,  and  end.  Four,  representing  the  square, 
is  in  the  highest  degree  perfect;  and  Ten,  as  it  contains 
the  sum  of  the  four  prime  numbers,  comprehends  all 
musical  and  arithmetical  proportions,  and  denotes  the 
system  of  the  world. 

As  the  numbers  proceed  from  the  monad,  so  he  re- 
garded the  pure  and  simple  essence  of  the  Deity  as  the 
source  of  all  the  forms  of  nature.  Gods,  demons,  and 
heroes  are  emanations  of  the  Supreme,  and  there  is  a 
fourth  emanation,  the  human  soul.  This  is  immortal, 
and  when  freed  from  the  fetters  of  the  body  passes  to 
the  habitation  of  the  dead,  where  it  remains  till  it  re- 
turns to  the  world,  to  dwell  in  some  other  human  or 
animal  body,  and  at  last,  when  sufficiently  purified,  it 
returns  to  the  source  from  which  it  proceeded.  This 
doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  (metempsycho- 
sis), which  was  originally  Egyptian  and  connected  with 
the  doctrine  of  reward  and  punishment  of  human  ac- 
tions, was  the  chief  cause  why  the  Pythagoreans  killed 
no  animals.  Ovid  represents  Pythagoras  addressing  his 
disciples  in  these  words :  "Souls  never  die,  but  always 
on  quitting  one  abode  pass  to  another.  I  myself  can 
remember  that  in  the  time  of  the  Trojan  war  I  was 
Euphorbus,  the  son  of  Panthus,  and  fell  by  the  spear 
of  Menelaus.  Lately  being  in  the  temple  of  Juno,  at 
Argos,  I  recognized  my  shield  hung  up  there  among 
the  trophies.  All  things  change,  nothing  perishes.  The 
soul  passes  hither  and  thither,  occupying  now  this  body, 
now  that,  passing  from  the  body  of  a  beast  into  that 
of  a  man,  and  thence  to  a  beast's  again.  As  wax  is 
stamped  with  certain  figures,  then  melted,  then  stamped 
anew  with  others,  yet  is  always  the  same  wax,  so  the 
soul,  being  always  the  same,  yet  wears,  at  different 
times,  different  forms.  Therefore,  if  the  love  of  kin- 


290        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

dred  is  not  extinct  in  your  bosoms,  forbear,  I  entreat 
you,  to  violate  the  life  of  those  who  may  haply  be  your 
own  relatives." 

Shakspeare,  in  the  "Merchant  of  Venice,"  makes 
Gratiano  allude  to  the  metempsychosis,  where  he  says 
to  Shylock : 

"Thou  almost  mak'st  me  waver  in  my  faith, 
To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 
That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 
Into  the  trunks  of  men ;  thy  currish  spirit 
Governed  a  wolf ;  who  hanged  for  human  slaughter 
Infused  his  soul  in  thee ;  for  thy  desires 
Are  wolfish,  bloody,  starved  and  ravenous." 

The  relation  of  the  notes  of  the  musical  scale  to 
numbers,  whereby  harmony  results  from  vibrations  in 
equal  times,  and  discord  from  the  reverse,  led  Pythag- 
oras to  apply  the  word  "harmony"  to  the  visible  crea- 
tion, meaning  by  it  the  just  adaptation  of  parts  to  each 
other.  This  is  the  idea  which  Dryden  expresses  in  the 
beginning  of  his  "Song  for  St.  Cecilia's  Day" : 

"From  harmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 
This  everlasting  frame  began; 
From  harmony  to  harmony 
Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran, 
The  Diapason  closing  full  in  Man." 

In  the  centre  of  the  universe  (he  taught)  there  was  a 
central  fire,  the  principle  of  life.  The  central  fire  was 
surrounded  by  the  earth,  the  moon,  the  sun,  and  the 
five  planets.  The  distances  of  the  various  heavenly 
bodies  from  one  another  were  conceived  to  correspond 
to  the  proportions  of  the  musical  scale.  The  heavenly 
bodies,  with  the  gods  who  inhabited  them,  were  sup- 
posed to  perform  a  choral  dance  round  the  central  fire, 
"not  without  song."  It  is  this  doctrine  which  Shak- 
speare alludes  to  when  he  makes  Lorenzo  teach  astron- 
omy to  Jessica  in  this  fashion: 

"Look,  Jessica,  see  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold ! 


PYTHAGORAS  291 

There's  not  the  smallest  orb  that  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls! 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in  we  cannot  hear  it." 

— Merchant  of  Venice. 

The  spheres  were  conceived  to  be  crystalline  or  glassy 
fabrics  arranged  over  one  another  like  a  nest  of  bowls 
reversed.  In  the  substance  of  each  sphere  one  or  more 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  was  supposed  to  be  fixed,  so  as 
to  move  with  it.  As  the  spheres  are  transparent  we 
look  through  them  and  see  the  heavenly  bodies  which 
they  contain  and  carry  round  with  them.  But  as  these 
spheres  cannot  move  on  one  another  without  friction, 
a  sound  is  thereby  produced  which  is  of  exquisite  har- 
mony, too  fine  for  mortal  ears  to  recognize.  Milton,  in 
his  "Hymn  on  the  Nativity/'  thus  alludes  to  the  music 
of  the  spheres : 

"Ring  out,  ye  crystal  spheres! 
Once  bless  our  human  ears 

(If  ye  have  power  to  charm  our  senses  so)  ; 
And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time, 

And  let  the  base  of  Heaven's  deep  organ  blow ; 
And  with  your  ninefold  harmony 
Make  up  full  concert  with  the  angelic  symphony." 

Pythagoras  is  said  to  have  invented  the  lyre.  Our 
own  poet  Longfellow,  in  "Verses  to  a  Child,"  thus  re- 
lates the  story: 

"As  great  Pythagoras  of  yore, 
Standing  beside  the  blacksmith's  door, 
And  hearing  the  hammers  as  they  smote 
The  anvils  with  a  different  note, 
Stole  from  the  varying  tones  that  hung 
Vibrant  on  every  iron  tongue, 
The  secret  of  the  sounding  wire, 
And  formed  the  seven-chorded  lyre." 

See  also  the  same  poet's  "Occultation  of  Orion" — 
"The  Samian's  great  ^Eolian  lyre." 


292        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


SYBARIS  AND  CROTONA 

Sybaris,  a  neighboring  city  to  Crotona,  was  as  cele- 
brated for  luxury  and  effeminacy  as  Crotona  for  the 
reverse.  The  name  has  become  proverbial.  J.  R. 
Lowell  uses  it  in  this  sense  in  his  charming  little  poem 
'To  the  Dandelion" : 

"Not  in  mid  June  the  golden  cuirassed  bee 
Feels  a  more  summer-like,  warm  ravishment 

In  the  white  lily's  breezy  tent 
(His  conquered  Sybaris)  than  I  when  first 
From  the  dark  green  thy  yellow  circles  burst." 

A  war  arose  between  the  two  cities,  and  Sybaris  was 
conquered  and  destroyed.  Milo,  the  celebrated  athlete, 
led  the  army  of  Crotona.  Many  stories  are  told  of 
Milo's  vast  strength,  such  as  his  carrying  a  heifer  of 
four  years  old  upon  his  shoulders  and  afterwards  eat- 
ing the  whole  of  it  in  a  single  day.  The  mode  of  his 
death  is  thus  related :  As  he  was  passing  through  a 
forest  he  saw  the  trunk  of  a  tree  which  had  been  par- 
tially split  open  by  wood-cutters,  and  attempted  to  rend 
it  further;  but  the  wood  closed  upon  his  hands  and  held 
him  fast,  in  which  state  he  was  attacked  and  devoured 
by  wolves. 

Byron,  in  his  "Ode  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte,"  alludes 
to  the  story  of  Milo: 

"He  who  of  old  would  rend  the  oak 

Deemed  not  of  the  rebound; 
Chained  by  the  trunk  he  vainly  broke, 
Alone,  how  looked  he  round!" 


EGYPTIAN   DEITIES 

The  Egyptians  acknowledged  as  the  highest  deity 
Amun,  afterwards  called  Zeus,  or  Jupiter  Ammon. 
Amun  manifested  himself  in  his  word  or  will,  which 
created  Kneph  and  Athor,  of  different  sexes.  From 
Kneph  and  Athor  proceeded  Osiris  and  Isis.  Osiris  was 
worshipped  as  the  god  of  the  sun,  the  source  of  warmth, 


MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  ISIS  293 

life,  and  fruitfulness,  in  addition  to  which  he  was  also 
regarded  as  the  god  of  the  Nile,  who  annually  visited 
his  wife,  Isis  (the  Earth),  by  means  of  an  inundation. 
Serapis  or  Hermes  is  sometimes  represented  as  identical 
with  Osiris,  and  sometimes  as  a  distinct  divinity,  the 
ruler  of  Tartarus  and  god  of  medicine.  Anubis  is  the 
guardian  god,  represented  with  a  dog's  head,  emblematic 
of  his  character  of  fidelity  and  watchfulness.  Horus  or 
Harpocrates  was  the  son  of  Osiris.  He  is  represented 
seated  on  a  Lotus  flower,  with  his  finger  on  his  lips,  as 
the  god  of  Silence. 

In  one  of  Moore's  "Irish  Melodies"  is  an  allusion  to 
Harpocrates : 

"Thyself  shall,  under   some   rosy  bower, 
Sit  mute,  with  thy  finger  on  thy  lip; 

Like  him,  the  boy,  who  born  among 
The  flowers  that  on  the  Nile-stream  blush, 

Sits  ever  thus, — his  only  song 
To  Earth  and  Heaven,  'Hush  all,  hush!'" 

MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  ISIS 

Osiris  and  Isis  were  at  one  time  induced  to  descend 
to  the  earth  to  bestow  gifts  and  blessings  on  its  inhabi- 
tants. Isis  showed  them  first  the  use  of  wheat  and 
barley,  and  Osiris  made  the  instruments  of  agriculture 
and  taught  men  the  use  of  them,  as  well  as  how  to 
harness  the  ox  to  the  plough.  He  then  gave  men  laws, 
the  institution  of  marriage,  a  civil  organization,  and 
taught  them  how  to  worship  the  gods.  After  he  had 
thus  made  the  valley  of  the  Nile  a  happy  country, 
he  assembled  a  host  with  which  he  went  to  bestow  his 
blessings  upon  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  conquered  the 
nations  everywhere,  but  not  with  weapons,  only  with 
music  and  eloquence.  His  brother  Typhon  saw  this, 
and  filled  with  envy  and  malice  sought  during  his  ab- 
sence to  usurp  his  throne.  But  Isis,  who  held  the  reins 
of  government,  frustrated  his  plans.  Still  more  em- 
bittered, he  now  resolved  to  kill  his  brother.  This  he 
did  in  the  following  manner:  Having  organized  a  con- 
spiracy of  seventy- two  members,  he  went  with  them 


294        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

to  the  feast  which  was  celebrated  in  honor  of  the  king's 
return.  He  then  caused  a  box  or  chest  to  be  brought 
in,  which  had  been  made  to  fit  exactly  the  size  of  Osiris, 
and  declared  that  he  would  give  that  chest  of  precious 
wood  to  whosoever  could  get  into  it.  The  rest  tried 
in  vain,  but  no  sooner  was  Osiris  in  it  than  Typhon  and 
his  companions  closed  the  lid  and  flung  the  chest  into 
the  Nile.  When  Isis  heard  of  the  cruel  murder  she 
wept  and  mourned,  and  then  with  her  hair  shorn,  clothed 
in  black  and  beating  her  breast,  she  sought  diligently 
for  the  body  of  her  husband.  In  this  search  she  was 
materially  assisted  by  Anubis,  the  son  of  Osiris  and 
Nephthys.  They  sought  in  vain  for  some  time ;  for 
when  the  chest,  carried  by  the  waves  to  the  shores  of 
Byblos,  had  become  entangled  in  the  reeds  that  grew 
at  the  edge  of  the  water,  the  divine  power  that  dwelt  in 
the  body  of  Osiris  imparted  such  strength  to  the  shrub 
that  it  grew  into  a  mighty  tree,  enclosing  in  its  trunk 
the  coffin  of  the  god.  This  tree  with  its  sacred  deposit 
was  shortly  after  felled,  and  erected  as  a  column  in 
the  palace  of  the  king  of  Phoenicia.  But  at  length  by 
the  aid  of  Anubis  and  the  sacred  birds,  Isis  ascertained 
these  facts,  and  then  went  to  the  royal  city.  There  she 
offered  herself  at  the  palace  as  a  servant,  and  being 
admitted,  threw  off  her  disguise  and  appeared  as  a 
goddess,  surrounded  with  thunder  and  lightning.  Strik- 
ing the  column  with  her  wand  she  caused  it  to  split  open 
and  give  up  the  sacred  coffin.  This  she  seized  and  re- 
turned with  it,  and  concealed  it  in  the  depth  of  a  forest, 
but  Typhon  discovered  it,  and  cutting  the  body  into 
fourteen  pieces  scattered  them  hither  and  thither.  After 
a  tedious  search,  Isis  found  thirteen  pieces,  the  fishes 
of  the  Nile  having  eaten  the  other.  This  she  replaced 
by  an  imitation  of  sycamore  wood,  and  buried  the  body 
at  Philae,  which  became  ever  after  the  great  burying 
place  of  the  nation,  and  the  spot  to  which  pilgrimages 
were  made  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  A  temple 
of  surpassing  magnificence  was  also  erected  there  in 
honor  of  the  god,  and  at  every  place  where  one  of  his 
limbs  had  been  found  minor  temples  and  tombs  were 
built  to  commemorate  the  event.  Osiris  became  after 


MYTH  OF  OSIRIS  AND  UTS  295 

that  the  tutelar  deity  of  the  Egyptians.  His  soul  was 
supposed  always  to  inhabit  the  body  of  the  bull  Apis, 
and  at  his  death  to  transfer  itself  to  his  successor. 

Apis,  the  Bull  of  Memphis,  was  worshipped  with  the 
greatest  reverence  by  the  Egyptians.  The  individual 
animal  who  was  held  to  be  Apis  was  recognized  by 
certain  signs.  It  was  requisite  that  he  should  be  quite 
black,  have  a  white  square  mark  on  the  forehead,  an- 
other, in  the  form  of  an  eagle,  on  his  back,  and  under 
his  tongue  a  lump  somewhat  in  the  shape  of  a  scara- 
bseus  or  beetle.  As  soon  as  a  bull  thus  marked  was 
found  by  those  sent  in  search  of  him,  he  was  placed  in 
a  building  facing  the  east,  and  was  fed  with  milk  for 
four  months.  At  the  expiration  of  this  term  the  priests 
repaired  at  new  moon,  with  great  pomp,  to  his  habita- 
tion and  saluted  him  Apis.  He  was  placed  in  a  vessel 
magnificently  decorated  and  conveyed  down  the  Nile  to 
Memphis,  where  a  temple,  with  two  chapels  and  a  court 
for  exercise,  was  assigned  to  him.  Sacrifices  were  made 
to  him,  and  once  every  year,  about  the  time  when  the 
Nile  began  to  rise,  a  golden  cup  was  thrown  into  the 
river,  and  a  grand  festival  was  held  to  celebrate  his 
birthday.  The  people  believed  that  during  this  festival 
the  crocodiles  forgot  their  natural  ferocity  and  became 
harmless.  There  was,  however,  one  drawback  to  his 
happy  lot :  he  was  not  permitted  to  live  beyond  a  cer- 
tain period,  and  if,  when  he  had  attained  the  age  of 
twenty-five  years,  he  still  survived,  the  priests  drowned 
him  in  the  sacred  cistern  and  then  buried  him  in  thq 
temple  of  Serapis.  On  the  death  of  this  bull,  whether  it 
occurred  in  the  course  of  nature  or  by  violence,  the 
whole  land  was  filled  with  sorrow  and  lamentations, 
which  lasted  until  his  successor  was  found. 

We  find  the  following  item  in  one  of  the  newspapers 
of  the  day: 

"The  Tomb  of  Apis. — The  excavations  going  on  at 
Memphis  bid  fair  to  make  that  buried  city  as  interesting 
as  Pompeii.  The  monster  tomb  of  Apis  is  now  open, 
after  having  lain  unknown  for  centuries." 

Milton,   in  his  "Hymn  on  the   Nativity/'   alludes  to 


296       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  Egyptian  deities,  not  as  imaginary  beings,  but  as 
real  demons,  put  to  flight  by  the  coming  of  Christ. 

"The  brutish  gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 
I  sis  and  Horus  and  the  dog  Anubis  haste. 

Nor  is  Osiris  seen 

In  Memphian  grove  or  green 
Trampling  the  1  unshowered  grass  with  lowings  loud ; 

Nor  can  he  be  at  rest 

Within  his  sacred  chest; 
Nought  but  profoundest  hell  can  be  his  shroud. 

In  vain  with  timbrel*  d  anthems  dark 
The  sable-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipped  ark." 

Isis  was  represented  in  statuary  with  the  head  veiled, 
a  symbol  of  mystery.  It  is  this  which  Tennyson  al- 
ludes to  in  "Maud,"  IV.,  8 : 

"For  the  drift  of  the  Maker  is  dark,  an  Isis  hid  by  the  veil,"  etc. 

ORACLES 

Oracle  was  the  name  used  to  denote  the  place  where 
answers  were  supposed  to  be  given  by  any  of  the 
divinities  to  those  who  consulted  them  respecting  the 
future.  The  word  was  also  used  to  signify  the  re- 
sponse which  was  given. 

The  most  ancient  Grecian  oracle  was  that  of  Jupiter 
at  Dodona.  According  to  one  account,  it  was  estab- 
lished in  the  following  manner:  Two  black  doves  took 
their  flight  from  Thebes  in  Egypt.  One  flew  to  Dodona 
in  Epirus,  and  alighting  in  a  grove  of  oaks,  it  pro- 
claimed in  human  language  to  the  inhabitants  of  the 
district  that  they  must  establish  there  an  oracle  of  Jupi- 
ter. The  other  dove  flew  to  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
Ammon  in  the  Libyan  Oasis,  and  delivered  a  similar 
command  there.  Another  account  is,  that  they  were  not 
doves,  but  priestesses,  who  were  carried  off  from 
Thebes  in  Egypt  by  the  Phoenicians,  and  set  up  oracles 
at  the  Oasis  and  Dodona.  The  responses  of  the  oracle 

1  There  being  no  rain  in  Egypt,  the  grass  is  "unshowered,"  and  the 
country  depends  for  its  fertility  upon  the  overflowings  of  the  Nile.  The 
ark  alluded  to  in  the  last  line  is  shown  by  pictures  still  remaining  on  the 
walls  of  the  Egyptian  temples  to  have  been  borne  by  the  priests  in  their 
religious  processions.  It  probably  represented  the  chest  in  which  Osiris 
was  placed. 


ORACLE  OF  TROPHONIUS  297 

were  given  from  the  trees,  by  the  branches  rustling  in 
the  wind,  the  sounds  being  interpreted  by  the  priests. 

But  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Grecian  oracles  was 
that  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  a  city  built  on  the  slopes  of 
Parnassus  in  Phocis. 

It  had  been  observed  at  a  very  early  period  that  the 
goats  feeding  on  Parnassus  were  thrown  into  convul- 
sions when  they  approached  a  certain  long  deep  cleft 
in  the  side  of  the  mountain.  This  was  owing  to  a 
peculiar  vapor  arising  out  of  the  cavern,  and  one  of 
the  goatherds  was  induced  to  try  its  effects  upon  him- 
self. Inhaling  the  intoxicating  air,  he  was  affected  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  cattle  had  been,  and  the  in- 
habitants of  the  surrounding  country,  unable  to  explain 
the  circumstance,  imputed  the  convulsive  ravings  to 
which  he  gave  utterance  while  under  the  power  of  the 
exhalations  to  a  divine  inspiration.  The  fact  was  speed- 
ily circulated  widely,  and  a  temple  was  erected  on  the 
spot.  The  prophetic  influence  was  at  first  variously 
attributed  to  the  goddess  Earth,  to  Neptune,  Themis, 
and  others,  but  it  was  at  length  assigned  to  Apollo,  and 
to  him  alone.  A  priestess  was  appointed  whose  office 
it  was  to  inhale  the  hallowed  air,  and  who  was  named 
the  Pythia.  She  was  prepared  for  this  duty  by  previ- 
ous ablution  at  the  fountain  of  Castalia,  and  being 
crowned  with  laurel  was  seated  upon  a  tripod  similarly 
adorned,  which  was  placed  over  the  chasm  whence  the 
divine  afflatus  proceeded.  Her  inspired  words  while 
thus  situated  were  interpreted  by  the  priests. 

ORACLE    OF    TROPHONIUS 

Besides  the  oracles  of  Jupiter  and  Apollo,  at  Dodona 
and  Delphi,  that  of  Trophonius  in  Boeotia  was  held  in 
high  estimation.  Trophonius  and  Agamedes  were 
brothers.  They  were  distinguished  architects,  and  built 
the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi,  and  a  treasury  for  King 
Hyrieus.  In  the  wall  of  the  treasury  they  placed  a 
stone,  in  such  a  manner  that  it  could  be  taken  out;  and 
by  this  means,  from  time  to  time,  purloined  the  treasure. 
Th's  amazed  Hyrieus,  for  his  locks  and  seals  were  un- 


298        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

touched,  and  yet  his  wealth  continually  diminished.  At 
length  he  set  a  trap  for  the  thief  and  Agamedes  was 
caught.  Trophonius,  unable  to  extricate  him,  and  fear- 
ing that  when  found  he  would  be  compelled  by  torture 
to  discover  his  accomplice,  cut  off  his  head.  Trophonius 
himself  is  said  to  have  been  shortly  afterwards  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  earth. 

The  oracle  of  Trophonius  was  at  Lebadea  in  Bceotia. 
During  a  great  drought  the  Boeotians,  it  is  said,  were 
directed  by  the  god  at  Delphi  to  seek  aid  of  Tropho- 
nius at  Lebadea.  They  came  thither,  but  could  find 
no  oracle.  One  of  them,  however,  happening  to  see  a 
swarm  of  bees,  followed  them  to  a  chasm  in  the  earth, 
which  proved  to  be  the  place  sought. 

Peculiar  ceremonies  were  to  be  performed  by  the 
person  who  came  to  consult  the  oracle.  After  these 
preliminaries,  he  descended  into  the  cave  by  a  narrow 
passage.  This  place  could  be  entered  only  in  the  night. 
The  person  returned  from  the  cave  by  the  same  nar- 
row passage,  but  walking  backwards.  He  appeared  mel- 
ancholy and  dejected ;  and  hence  the  proverb  which  was 
applied  to  a  person  low-spirited  and  gloomy,  "He  has 
been  consulting  the  oracle  of  Trophonius." 

ORACLE  OF   ^SCULAPIUS 

There  were  numerous  oracles  of  yEsculapius,  but  the 
most  celebrated  one  was  at  Epidaurus.  Here  the  sick 
sought  responses  and  the  recovery  of  their  health  by 
sleeping  in  the  temple.  It  has  been  inferred  from  the 
accounts  that  have  come  down  to  us  that  the  treatment 
of  the  sick  resembled  what  is  now  called  Animal  Mag- 
netism or  Mesmerism. 

Serpents  were  sacred  to  ^Esculapius,  probably  be- 
cause of  a  superstition  that  those  animals  have  a  faculty 
of  renewing  their  youth  by  a  change  of  skin.  The  wor- 
ship of  ^Esculapius  was  introduced  into  Rome  in  a  time 
of  great  sickness,  and  an  embassy  sent  to  the  temple  of 
Epidaurus  to  entreat  the  aid  of  the  god.  /Esculapius 
was  propitious,  and  on  the  return  of  the  ship  accom- 
panied it  in  the  form  of  a  serpent.  Arriving  in  the 


ORACLE  OF  APIS  299 

river  Tiber,  the  serpent  glided  from  the  vessel  and  took 
possession  of  an  island  in  the  river,  and  a  temple  was 
there  erected  to  his  honor. 

ORACLE   OF   APIS 

At  Memphis  the  sacred  bull  Apis  gave  answer  to  those 
who  consulted  him  by  the  manner  in  which  he  received 
or  rejected  what  was  presented  to  him.  If  the  bull 
refused  food  from  the  hand  of  the  inquirer  it  was  con- 
sidered an  unfavorable  sign,  and  the  contrary  when  he 
received  it. 

It  has  been  a  question  whether  oracular  responses 
ought  to  be  ascribed  to  mere  human  contrivance  or  to 
the  agency  of  evil  spirits.  The  latter  opinion  has  been 
most  general  in  past  ages.  A  third  theory  has  been 
advanced  since  the  phenomena  of  Mesmerism  have  at- 
tracted attention,  that  something  like  the  mesmeric 
trance  was  induced  in  the  Pythoness,  and  the  faculty 
of  clairvoyance  really  called  into  action. 

Another  question  is  as  to  the  time  when  the  Pagan 
oracles  ceased  to  give  responses.  Ancient  Christian 
writers  assert  that  they  became  silent  at  the  birth  of 
Christ,  and  were  heard  no  more  after  that  date.  Milton 
adopts  this  view  in  his  "Hymn  on  the  Nativity,"  and 
in  lines  of  solemn  and  elevated  beauty  pictures  the 
consternation  of  the  heathen  idols  at  the  advent  of  the 
Saviour : 

"The  oracles  are  dumb; 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Rings  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving. 
Apollo  from  his  shrine 
Can  no  more  divine, 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving. 
No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell 
Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell." 

In  Cowper's  poem  of  "Yardley  Oak"  there  are  some 
beautiful  mythological  allusions.  The  former  of  the 
two  following  is  to  the  fable  of  Castor  and  Pollux;  the 
latter  is  more  appropriate  to  our  present  subject.  Ad- 
dressing: the  acorn  he  says: 


300        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

"Thou  f ell'st  mature ;  and  in  the  loamy  clod, 
Swelling  with  vegetative  force  instinct, 
Didst  burst  thine  egg,  as  theirs  the  fabled  Twins 
Now  stars;  two  lobes  protruding,  paired  exact; 
A  leaf  succeeded  and  another  leaf, 
And,  all  the  elements  thy  puny  growth 
Fostering  propitious,  thou  becam'st  a  twig. 
Who  lived  when  thou  wast  such  ?    O,  couldst  thou  speak, 
As  in  Dodona  once  thy  kindred  trees 
Oracular,  I  would  not  curious  ask 
The  future,  best  unknown,  but  at  thy  mouth 
Inquisitive,  the  less  ambiguous  past." 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Talking  Oak,"  alludes  to  the  oaks 
of  Dodona  in  these  lines : 

"And  I  will  work  in  prose  and  rhyme, 

And  praise  thee  more  in  both 
Than  bard  has  honored  beech  or  lime, 

Or  that  Thessalian  growth 
In  which  the  swarthy  ring-dove  sat 
And  mystic  sentence  spoke;"  etc. 

Byron  alludes  to  the  oracle  of  Delphi  where,  speaking 
of  Rousseau,  whose  writings  he  conceives  did  much  to 
bring  on  the  French  revolution,  he  says: 

"For  then  he  was  inspired,  and  from  him  came, 

As  from  the  Pythian's  mystic  cave  of  yore, 
Those  oracles  which  set  the  world  in  flame, 
Nor  ceased  to  burn  till  kingdoms  were  no  more." 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY — STATUES  OF  GODS  AND  GODDESSES 
— POETS  OF  MYTHOLOGY 

ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY 

HAVING  reached  the  close  of  our  series  of  stories  of 
Pagan  mythology,  an  inquiry  suggests  itself.  "Whence 
came  these  stories?  Have  they  a  foundation  in  truth, 
or  are  they  simply  dreams  of  the  imagination?"  Phi- 
losophers have  suggested  various  theories  on  the  sub- 


ORIGIN  OF  MYTHOLOGY  301 

ject;  and  1.  The  Scriptural  theory;  according  to  which 
all  mythological  legends  are  derived  from  the  narratives 
of  Scripture,  though  the  real  facts  have  been  disguised 
and  altered.  Thus  Deucalion  is  only  another  name  for 
Noah,  Hercules  for  Samson,  Arion  for  Jonah,  etc.  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  in  his  "History  of  the  World,"  says, 
"Jubal,  Tubal,  and  Tubal-Cain  were  Mercury,  Vulcan, 
and  Apollo,  inventors  of  Pasturage,  Smithing,  and  Mu- 
sic. The  Dragon  which  kept  the  golden  apples  was  the 
serpent  that  beguiled  Eve.  Nimrod's  tower  was  the 
attempt  of  the  Giants  against  Heaven."  There  are  doubt- 
less many  curious  coincidences  like  these,  but  the  theory 
cannot  without  extravagance  be  pushed  so  far  as  to  ac- 
count for  any  great  proportion  of  the  stories. 

2.  The  Historical  theory;  according  to  which  all  the 
persons  mentioned  in  mythology  were  once  real  human 
beings,  and  the  legends  and  fabulous  traditions  relating 
to  them  are  merely  the  additions  and  embellishments  of 
later  times.    Thus  the  story  of  JEolus,  the  king  and  god 
of  the  winds,  is  supposed  to  have  risen  from  the  fact 
that  JEolus  was  the  ruler  of  some  islands  in  the  Tyrrhe- 
nian Sea,  where  he  reigned  as  a  just  and  pious  king, 
and  taught  the  natives  the  use  of  sails  for  ships,  and 
how  to  tell  from  the  signs  of  the  atmosphere  the  changes 
of  the  weather  and  the  winds.    Cadmus,  who,  the  legend 
says,  sowed  the  earth  with  dragon's  teeth,  from  which 
sprang  a  crop  of  armed  men,  was  in  fact  an  emigrant 
from  Phoenicia,  and  brought  with  him  into  Greece  the 
knowledge  of  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  which  he  taught 
to    the    natives.      From    these    rudiments    of    learning 
sprung  civilization,  which  the  poets  have  always  been 
prone  to  describe  as  a  deterioration  of  man's  first  estate, 
the  Golden  Age  of  innocence  and  simplicity. 

3.  The  Allegorical  theory  supposes  that  all  the  myths 
of  the  ancients  were  allegorical  and  symbolical,  and  con- 
tained some  moral,  religious,  or  philosophical  truth  or 
historical  fact,  under  the  form  of  an  allegory,  but  came 
in  process  of  time  to  be  understood  literally.    Thus  Sat- 
urn, who  devours  his  own  children,  is  the  same  power 
whom  the  Greeks  called   Cronos    (Time),  which  mav 

be  s  lid  to  destroy  whatever  it  has  brought  into 


302        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

existence.  The  story  of  lo  is  interpreted  in  a  similar 
manner.  lo  is  the  moon,  and  Argus  the  starry  sky, 
which,  as  it  were,  keeps  sleepless  watch  over  her.  The 
fabulous  wanderings  of  lo  represent  the  continual  rev- 
olutions of  the  moon,  which  also  suggested  to  Milton 
the  same  idea. 

"To  behold  the   wandering  moon 
Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 
Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 
In  the  heaven's  wide,  pathless  way." 

— //   Penseroso. 

4.  The  Physical  theory ;  according  to  which  the  ele- 
ments of  air,  fire,  and  water  were  originally  the  objects 
of  religious  adoration,  and  the  principal  deities  were 
personifications  of  the  powers  of  nature.  The  tran- 
sition was  easy  from  a  personification  of  the  elements 
to  the  notion  of  supernatural  beings  presiding  over  and 
governing  the  different  objects  of  nature.  The  Greeks, 
whose  imagination  was  lively,  peopled  all  nature  with 
invisible  beings,  and  supposed  that  every  object,  from 
the  sun  and  sea  to  the  smallest  fountain  and  rivulet,  was 
under  the  care  of  some  particular  divinity.  Words- 
worth, in  his  "Excursion,"  has  beautifully  developed 
this  view  of  Grecian  mythology : 

"In  that  fair  clime  the  lonely  herdsman,  stretched 
On  the  soft  grass  through  half  a  summer's  day, 
With  music  lulled  his  indolent   repose; 
And,  in  some  fit  of  weariness,  if  he, 
When  his  own  breath  was  silent,  chanced  to  hear 
A  distant  strain  far  sweeter  than  the  sounds 
Which  his  poor  skill  could  make,  his  fancy  fetched 
Even  from  the  blazing  chariot  of  the  Sun 
A  beardless  youth  who  touched  a  golden  lute, 
And  filled  the  illumined  groves  with  ravishment. 
The  mighty  hunter,  lifting  up  his  eyes 
Toward  the  crescent  Moon,  with  grateful  heart 
Called  on  the  lovely  Wanderer  who  bestowed 
That  timely  light  to  share  his  joyous  sport; 
And  hence  a  beaming  goddess  with  her  nymphs 
Across  the  lawn  and  through  the  darksome  grove 
(Not  unaccompanied  with  tuneful  notes 
By  echo  multiplied  from  rock  or  cave) 
Swept  in  the  storm  of  chase,  as  moon  and  stars 


THE  OLYMPIAN  JUPITER  303 

Glance  rapidly  along  the  clouded  heaven 

When  winds  are  blowing  strong.    The  Traveller  slaked 

His  thirst  from  rill  or  gushing  fount,  and  thanked 

The  Naiad.     Sunbeams  upon  distant  hills 

Gliding  apace  with  shadows  in  their  train, 

Might  with  small  Lelp  from  fancy,  be  transformed 

Into  fleet  Oreads  sporting  visibly. 

The  Zephyrs,  fanning,  as  they  passed,  their  wings, 

Lacked  not  for  love  fair  objects  whom  they  wooed 

With  gentle  whisper.     Withered  boughs  grotesque, 

Stripped  of  their  leaves  and  twigs  by  hoary  age, 

From  depth  of  shaggy  covert  peeping  forth 

In  the  low  vale,  or  on  steep  mountain  side; 

And  sometimes  intermixed  with  stirring  horns 

Of  the  live  deer,  or  goat's  depending  beard; 

These  were  the  lurking  Satyrs,  a   »vild  brood 

Of  gamesome  deities;  or  Pan  himself, 

That  simple  shepherd's  awe-inspiring  god." 

All  the  theories  which  have  been  mentioned  are  true 
to  a  certain  extent.  It  would  therefore  be  more  cor- 
rect to  say  that  the  mythology  of  a  nation  has  sprung 
from  all  these  sources  combined  than  from  any  one  in 
particular.  We  may  add  also  that  there  are  many 
myths  which  have  arisen  from  the  desire  of  man  to  ac- 
count for  those  natural  phenomena  which  he  cannot 
understand;  and  not  a  few  have  had  their  rise  from  a 
similar  desire  of  giving  a  reason  for  the  names  of  places* 
and  persons. 

STATUES   OF   THE    GODS 

To  adequately  represent  to  the  eye  the  ideas  intended 
to  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  under  the  several  names  of 
deities  was  a  task  which  called  into  exercise  the  high- 
est powers  of  genius  and  art.  Of  the  many  attempts 
four  have  been  most  celebrated,  the  first  two  known  to 
us  only  by  the  descriptions  of  the  ancients,  the  others 
still  extant  and  the  acknowledged  masterpieces  of  the 
sculptor's  art. 

THE    OLYMPIAN     JUPITER 

The  statue  of  the  Olympian  Jupiter  by  Phidias  was 
considered  the  highest  achievement  of  this  department 
of  Grecian  art.  It  was  of  colossal  dimensions,  and  was 


304        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

what  the  ancients  called  "chryselephantine ;"  that  is, 
composed  of  ivory  and  gold ;  the  parts  representing  flesh 
being  of  ivory  laid  on  a  core  of  wood  or  stone,  while 
the  drapery  and  other  ornaments  were  of  gold.  The 
height  of  the  figure  was  forty  feet,  on  a  pedestal  twelve 
feet  high.  The  god  was  represented  seated  on  his 
throne.  His  brows  were  crowned  with  a  wreath  of 
olive,  and  he  held  in  his  right  hand  a  sceptre,  and  in 
his  left  a  statue  of  Victory.  The  throne  was  of  cedar, 
adorned  with  gold  and  precious  stones. 

The  idea  which  the  artist  essayed  to  embody  was  that 
of  the  supreme  deity  of  the  Hellenic  (Grecian)  nation, 
enthroned  as  a  conqueror,  in  perfect  majesty  and  re- 
pose, and  ruling  with  a  nod  the  subject  world.  Phidias 
avowed  that  he  took  his  idea  from  the  representation 
which  Homer  gives  in  the  first  book  of  the  "Iliad,"  in 
the  passage  thus  translated  by  Pope: 

"He  spoke  and  awful  bends  his  sable  brows, 
Shakes  his  -mbrosial  curls  and  gives  the  nod, 
The  stamp  of  fate  and  sanction  of  the  god. 
High  heaven  with  reverence  the  dread  signal  took, 
And  all  Olympus  to  the  centre  shook."  * 

THE    MINERVA    OF    THE    PARTHENON 

This  was  also  the  work  of  Phidias.  It  stood  in  thq 
Parthenon,  or  temple  of  Minerva  at  Athens.  The  god- 
dess was  represented  standing.  In  one  hand  she  held  a 
spear,  in  the  other  a  statue  of  Victory.  Her  helmet, 
highly  decorated,  was  surmounted  by  a  Sphinx.  The 
statue  was  forty  feet  in  height,  and,  like  the  Jupiter, 
composed  of  ivory  and  gold.  The  eyes  were  of  marble, 
and  probably  painted  to  represent  the  iris  and  pupil. 

1  Cowper's  version   is   less  elegant,  but  truer  to  the  original: 
"He  ceased,  and  under  his  dark  brows  the  nod 
Vouchsafed   of   confirmation.      All   around 
The    sovereign's   everlasting   head   his   curls 
Ambrosial    shook,    and    the    huge    mountain    reeled." 

It  may  interest  our  readers  to  see  how  this  passage  appears  in  another 
famous   version,   that   which   was    issued   under   the  name   of   Tickell,   con« 
temporaneously    with    Pope's,    and    which,    being    by    many    attributed    to 
Addison,  ltd  to  the  quarrel  which   ensued  between   Addison  and   Pope: 
"This   said,  his  kingly  brow  the  sire  inclined; 
The  large  black  curls  fell  awful  from  behind, 
Thick    shadowing    the    stern    forehead    of    the    god; 
Olympus   trembled    at   the   almighty   nod." 


THE  VENUS  DE'  MEDICI  305 

The  Parthenon,  in  which  this  statue  stood,  was  also 
constructed  under  the  direction  and  superintendence  of 
Phidias.  Its  exterior  was  enriched  with  sculptures, 
many  of  them  from  the  hand  of  Phidias.  The  Elgin 
marbles,  now  in  the  British  Museum,  are  a  part  of 
them. 

Both  the  Jupiter  and  Minerva  of  Phidias  are  lost, 
out  there  is  good  ground  to  believe  that  we  have,  in 
several  extant  statues  and  busts,  the  artist's  concep- 
tions of  the  countenances  of  both.  They  are  character- 
ized by  grave  and  dignified  beauty,  and  freedom  from 
any  transient  expression,  which  in  the  language  of  art 
is  called  repose. 

THE   VENUS   DE'    MEDICI 

The  Venus  of  the  Medici  is  so  called  from  its  hav- 
ing been  in  the  possession  of  the  princes  of  that  name 
in  Rome  when  it  first  attracted  attention,  about  two 
hundred  years  ago.  An  inscription  on  the  base  records 
it  to  be  the  work  of  Cleomenes,  an  Athenian  sculptor 
of  200  B.C.,  but  the  authenticity  of  the  inscription  is 
doubtful.  There  is  a  story  that  the  artist  was  employed 
by  public  authority  to  make  a  statue  exhibiting  the  per- 
fection of  female  beauty,  and  to  aid  him  in  his  task  the 
most  perfect  forms  the  city  could  supply  were  furnished 
him  for  models.  It  is  this  which  Thomson  alludes  to 
in  his  "Summer" : 

"So  stands  the  statue  that  enchants  the  world; 
So  bending  tries  to  veil  the  matchless  boast, 
The  mingled  beauties  of  exulting  Greece." 

Byron  also  alludes  to  this  statue.  Speaking  of  the 
Florence  Museum,  he  says : 

"There,  too,  the  goddess  loves  in  stone,  and  fills 
The  air  around  with  beauty;"  etc. 

And  in  the  next  stanza, 

"Blood,  pulse,  and  breast  confirm  the  Dardan  shepherd's  prize." 

See  this  last  allusion  explained  in  Chapter  XXVII. 


306        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE    APOLLO    BELVEDERE 

The  most  highly  esteemed  of  all  the  remains  of  an- 
cient sculpture  is  the  statue  of  Apollo,  called  the  Belve- 
dere, from  the  name  of  the  apartment  of  the  Pope's 
palace  at  Rome  in  which  it  was  placed.  The  artist 
is  unknown.  It  is  supposed  to  be  a  work  of  Roman 
art,  of  about  the  first  century  of  our  era.  It  is  a  stand- 
ing figure,  in  marble,  more  than  seven  feet  high,  naked 
except  for  the  cloak  which  is  fastened  around  the  neck 
and  hangs  over  the  extended  left  arm.  It  is  supposed 
to  represent  the  god  in  the  moment  when  he  has  shot 
the  arrow  to  destroy  the  monster  Python.  (See  Chapter 
III.)  The  victorious  divinity  is  in  the  act  of  step- 
ping forward.  The  left  arm,  which  seems  to  have  held 
the  bow,  is  outstretched,  and  the  head  is  turned  in  the 
same  direction.  In  attitude  and  proportion  the  graceful 
majesty  of  the  figure  is  unsurpassed.  The  effect  is  com- 
pleted by  the  countenance,  where  on  the  perfection  oi 
youthful  godlike  beauty  there  dwells  the  consciousness 
of  triumphant  power. 

THE   DIANA    A    LA    BICHE 

The  Diana  of  the  Hind,  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre, 
may  be  considered  the  counterpart  to  the  Apollo  Belve- 
dere. The  attitude  much  resembles  that  of  the  Apollo, 
the  sizes  correspond  and  also  the  style  of  execution 
It  is  a  work  of  the  highest  order,  though  by  no  means 
equal  to  the  Apollo.  The  attitude  is  that  of  hurried  and 
eager  motion,  the  face  that  of  a  huntress  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  chase.  The  left  hand  is  extended  over 
the  forehead  of  the  Hind,  which  runs  by  her  side,  the 
right  arm  reaches  backward  over  the  shoulder  to  draw 
an  arrow  from  the  quiver. 

THE    POETS    OF    MYTHOLOGY 

Homer,  from  whose  poems  of  the  "Iliad"  and  "Odys- 
sey" we  have  taken  the  chief  part  of  our  chapters  of 
the  Trojan  war  and  the  return  of  the  Grecians,  is 


VIRGIL  307 

almost  as  mythical  a  personage  as  the  heroes  he  cele- 
brates. The  traditionary  story  is  that  he  was  a  wander- 
ing minstrel,  blind  and  old,  who  travelled  from  place  to 
place  singing  his  lays  to  the  music  of  his  harp,  in  the 
courts  of  princes  or  the  cottages  of  peasants,  and  de- 
pendent upon  the  voluntary  offerings  of  his  hearers  for 
support.  Byron  calls  him  "The  blind  old  man  of  Scio's 
rocky  isle,"  and  a  well-known  epigram,  alluding  to  the 
uncertainty  of  the  fact  of  his  birthplace,  says : 

"Seven  wealthy  towns  contend  for  Homer  dead, 
Through  which  the  living  Homer  begged  his  bread.'v 

These  seven  were  Smyrna,  Scio,  Rhodes,  Colophon, 
Salamis,  Argos,  and  Athens. 

Modern  scholars  have  doubted  whether  the  Homeric 
poems  are  the  work  of  any  single  mind.  This  arises 
from  the  difficulty  of  believing  that  poems  of  such 
length  could  have  been  committed  to  writing  at  so  early 
an  age  as  that  usually  assigned  to  these,  an  age  earlier 
than  the  date  of  any  remaining  inscriptions  or  coins, 
and  when  no  materials  capable  of  containing  such  long 
productions  were  yet  introduced  into  use.  On  the  other 
hand  it  is  asked  how  poems  of  such  length  could  have 
been  handed  down  from  age  to  age  by  means  of  the 
memory  alone.  This  is  answered  by  the  statement  that 
there  was  a  professional  body  of  men,  called  Rhap- 
sodists,  who  recited  the  poems  of  others,  and  whose 
business  it  was  to  commit  to  memory  and  rehearse  for 
pay  the  national  and  patriotic  legends. 

The  prevailing  opinion  of  the  learned,  at  this  time, 
seems  to  be  that  the  framework  and  much  of  the  struc- 
ture of  the  poems  belong  to  Homer,  but  that  there  are 
numerous  interpolations  and  additions  by  other  hands. 

The  date  assigned  to  Homer,  on  the  authority  of 
Herodotus,  is  850  B.C. 

VIRGIL 

Virgil,  called  also  by  his  surname,  Maro,  from  whose 
poem  of  the  "^neid"  we  have  taken  the  story  of  ^Eneas, 
was  one  of  the  great  poets  who  made  the  reign  of  the 


308        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Roman  emperor  Augustus  so  celebrated,  under  the  name 
of  the  Augustan  age.  Virgil  was  born  in  Mantua  in  the 
year  70  B.C.  His  great  poem  is  ranked  next  to  those 
of  Homer,  in  the  highest  class  of  poetical  composition, 
the  Epic.  Virgil  is  far  inferior  to  Homer  in  originality 
and  invention,  but  superior  to  him  in  correctness  and 
elegance.  To  critics  of  English  lineage  Milton  alone 
of  modern  poets  seems  worthy  to  be  classed  with  these 
illustrious  ancients.  His  poem  of  "Paradise  Lost,"  from 
which  we  have  borrowed  so  many  illustrations,  is  in  many 
respects  equal,  in  some  superior,  to  either  of  the  great 
works  of  antiquity.  The  following  epigram  of  Dry  den 
characterizes  the  three  poets  with  as  much  truth  as  it  is 
usual  to  find  in  such  pointed  criticism: 

"ON  MILTON 

"Three  poets  in  three  different  ages  born, 
Greece,  Italy,  and  England  did  adorn. 
The  first  in  loftiness  of  soul  surpassed, 
The  next  in  majesty,  in  both  the  last. 
The  force  of  nature  could  no  further  go; 
To  make  a  third  she  joined  the  other  two." 

From  Cowper's  "Table  Talk": 

"Ages  elapsed  ere  Homer's  lamp  appeared, 
And  ages  ere  the  Mantuan  swan  was  heard. 
To  carry  nature  lengths  unknown  before, 
To  give  a  Milton  birth,  asked  ages  more. 
Thus  genius  rose  and  set  at  ordered  times, 
And  shot  a  dayspring  into  distant  climes, 
Ennobling  every  region  that  he  chose; 
He  sunk  in  Greece,  in  Italy  he  rose, 
And,  tedious  years  of  Gothic  darkness  past, 
Emerged  all  splendor  in  our  isle  at  last. 
Thus  lovely  Halcyons  dive  into  the  main, 
Then  show  far  off  their  shining  plumes  again." 

OVID, 

often  alluded  to  in  poetry  by  his  other  name  of  Naso, 
was  born  in  the  year  43  B.C.  He  was  educated  for 
public  life  and  held  some  offices  of  considerable  dignity, 
but  poetry  was  his  delight,  and  he  early  resolved  to  de- 
vote himself  to  it.  He  accordingly  sought  the  society 


OVID  309 

of  the  contemporary  poets,  and  was  acquainted  with 
Horace  and  saw  Virgil,  though  the  latter  died  when 
Ovid  was  yet  too  young  and  undistinguished  to  have 
formed  his  acquaintance.  Ovid  spent  an  easy  life  at 
Rome  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  competent  income.  He  was 
intimate  with  the  family  of  Augustus,  the  emperor,  and 
it  is  supposed  that  some  serious  offence  given  to  some 
member  of  that  family  was  the  cause  of  an  event  which 
reversed  the  poet's  happy  circumstances  and  clouded  all 
the  latter  portion  of  his  life.  At  the  age  of  fifty  he 
was  banished  from  Rome,  and  ordered  to  betake  him- 
self to  Tomi,  on  the  borders  of  the  Black  Sea.  Here, 
among  the  barbarous  people  and  in  a  severe  climate,  the 
poet,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  all  the  pleasures  of  a 
luxurious  capital  and  the  society  of  his  most  distin- 
guished contemporaries,  spent  the  last  ten  years  of  his 
life,  worn  out  with  grief  and  anxiety.  His  only  con- 
solation in  exile  was  to  address  his  wife  and  absent 
friends,  and  his  letters  were  all  poetical.  Though  these 
poems  (the  "Trista"  and  "Letters  from  Pontus")  have 
no  other  topic  than  the  poet's  sorrows,  his  exquisite 
taste  and  fruitful  invention  have  redeemed  them  from 
the  charge  of  being  tedious,  and  they  are  read  with 
pleasure  and  even  with  sympathy. 

The  two  great  works  of  Ovid  are  his  "Metamor- 
phoses" and  his  "Fasti."  They  are  both  mythological 
poems,  and  from  the  former  we  have  taken  most  of  our 
stories  of  Grecian  and  Roman  mythology.  A  late  writer 
thus  characterizes  these  poems : 

"The  rich  mythology  of  Greece  furnished  Ovid,  as 
it  may  still  furnish  the  poet,  the  painter,  and  the  sculp- 
tor, with  materials  for  his  art.  With  exquisite  taste, 
simplicity,  and  pathos  he  has  narrated  the  fabulous  tra- 
ditions of  early  ages,  and  given  to  them  that  appearance 
of  reality  which  only  a  master  hand  could  impart.  His 
pictures  of  nature  are  striking  and  true;  he  selects  with 
care  that  which  is  appropriate;  he  rejects  the  superflu- 
ous; and  when  he  has  completed  his  work,  it  is  neither 
defective  nor  redundant.  The  'Metamorphoses'  are  read 
with  pleasure  by  youth,  and  are  re-read  in  more  ad- 
vanced age  with  still  greater  delight.  The  poet  ventured 


310        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

to  predict  that  his  poem  would  survive  him,  and  be  read 
wherever  the  Roman  name  was  known." 

The  prediction  above  alluded  to  is  contained  in  the 
closing  lines  of  the  "Metamorphoses,"  of  which  we  give 
a  literal  translation  below: 

"And  now  I  close  my  work,  which  not  the  ire 
Of  Jove,  nor  tooth  of  time,  nor  sword,  nor  fire 
Shall  bring  to  nought.    Come  when  it  will  that  day 
Which  o'er  the  body,  not  the  mind,  has  sway, 
And  snatch  the  remnant  of  my  life  away, 
My  better  part  above  the  stars  shall  soar, 
And  my  renown  endure   forevermore. 
Where'er  the  Roman  arms  and  arts  shall  spread, 
There  by  the  people  shall  my  book  be  read; 
And,  if  aught  true  in  poet's  visions  be, 
My  name  and  fame  have  immortality." 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

MODERN    MONSTERS THE    PHCENIX BASILISK — UNICORN 

SALAMANDER 

MODERN   MONSTERS 

THERE  is  a  set  of  imaginary  beings  which  seem  to 
have  been  the  successors  of  the  "Gorgons,  Hydras,  and 
Chimeras  dire"  of  the  old  superstitions,  and,  having  no 
connection  with  the  false  gods  of  Paganism,  to  have 
continued  to  enjoy  an  existence  in  the  popular  belief 
after  Paganism  was  superseded  by  Christianity.  They 
are  mentioned  perhaps  by  the  classical  writers,  but  their 
chief  popularity  and  currency  seem  to  have  been  in  more 
modern  times.  We  seek  our  accounts  of  them  not  so 
much  in  the  poetry  of  the  ancients  as  in  the  old  natural 
history  books  and  narrations  of  travellers.  The  accounts 
which  we  are  about  to  give  are  taken  chiefly  from  the 
Penny  Cyclopedia. 

THE   PHCENIX 

Ovid  tells  the  story  of  the  Phoenix  as  follows:  "Most 
beings  spring  from  other  individuals;  but  there  is  a 
certain  kind  which  reproduces  itself.  The  Assyrians 


THE  PHOENIX  311 

call  it  the  Phoenix.  It  does  not  live  on  fruit  or  flowers, 
but  on  frankincense  and  odoriferous  gums.  When  it 
has  lived  five  hundred  years,  it  builds  itself  a  nest  in 
the  branches  of  an  oak,  or  on  the  top  of  a  palm  tree. 
In  this  it  collects  cinnamon,  and  spikenard,  and  myrrh, 
and  of  these  materials  builds  a  pile  on  which  it  de- 
posits itself,  and  dying,  breathes  out  its  last  breath 
amidst  odors.  From  the  body  of  the  parent  bird,  a 
young  Phoenix  issues  forth,  destined  to  live  as  long  a 
life  as  its  predecessor.  When  this  has  grown  up  and 
gained  sufficient  strength,  it  lifts  its  nest  from  the  tree 
(its  own  cradle  and  its  parent's  sepulchre),  and  carries 
it  to  the  city  of  Heliopolis  in  Egypt,  and  deposits  it  in 
the  temple  of  the  Sun." 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  a  poet.  Now  let  us  see 
that  of  a  philosophic  historian.  Tacitus  says,  "In  the 
consulship  of  Paulus  Fabius  (A.D.  34)  the  miraculous 
bird  known  to  the  world  by  the  name  of  the  Phoenix, 
after  disappearing  for  a  series  of  ages,  revisited  Egypt. 
It  was  attended  in  its  flight  by  a  group  of  various  birds, 
all  attracted  by  the  novelty,  and  gazing  with  wonder  at 
so  beautiful  an  appearance."  He  then  gives  an  account 
of  the  bird,  not  varying  materially  from  the  preceding, 
but  adding  some  details.  "The  first  care  of  the  young 
bird  as  soon  as  fledged,  and  able  to  trust  to  his  wings, 
is  to  perform  the  obsequies  of  his  father.  But  this  duty 
is  not  undertaken  rashly.  He  collects  a  quantity  of 
myrrh,  and  to  try  his  strength  makes  frequent  excur- 
sions with  a  load  on  his  back.  When  he  has  gained  suf- 
ficient confidence  in  his  own  vigor,  he  takes  up  the  body 
of  his  father  and  flies  with  it  to  the  altar  of  the  Sun, 
where  he  leaves  it  to  be  consumed  in  flames  of  fra- 
grance." Other  writers  add  a  few  particulars.  The 
myrrh  is  compacted  in  the  form  of  an  egg,  in  which  the 
dead  Phoenix  is  enclosed.  From  the  mouldering  flesh 
of  the  dead  bird  a  worm  springs,  and  this  worm,  when 
grown  large,  is  transformed  into  a  bird.  Herodotus 
describes  the  bird,  though  he  says,  "I  have  not  seen  it 
myself,  except  in  a  picture.  Part  of  his  plumage  is 
gold-colored,  and  part  crimson;  and  he  is  for  the  most 
part  very  much  like  an  eagle  in  outline  and  bulk." 


312         STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

The  first  writer  who  disclaimed  a  belief  in  the  ex- 
istence of  the  Phoenix  was  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his 
"Vulgar  Errors,"  published  in  1646.  He  was  replied 
to  a  few  years  later  by  Alexander  Ross,  who  says,  in 
answer  to  the  objection  of  the  Phoenix  so  seldom  making 
his  appearance,  "His  instinct  teaches  him  to  keep  out 
of  the  way  of  the  tyrant  of  the  creation,  man,  for  if  he 
were  to  be  got  at,  some  wealthy  glutton  would  surely 
devour  him,  though  there  were  no  more  in  the  world." 

Dryden  in  one  of  his  early  poems  has  this  allusion  to 
the  Phoenix : 

"So  when  the  new-born  Phoenix  first  is  seen, 
Her  feathered  subjects  all  adore  their  queen, 
And  while  she  makes  her  progress  through  the  East, 
From  every  grove  her  numerous  train's  increased; 
Each  poet  of  the  air  her  glory  sings, 
And  round  him  the  pleased  audience  clap  their  wings." 

Milton,  in  "Paradise  Lost/'  Book  V.,  compares  the 
angel  Raphael  descending  to  earth  to  a  Phoenix: 

".  .  .  Down  thither,  prone  in  flight 
He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 
Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing, 
Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 
Winnows  the  buxom  air;  till  within  soar 
Of  towering  eagles,  to  all  the  fowls  he  seems 
A  Phoenix,  gazed  by  all;  as  that  sole  bird 
When,  to  enshrine  his  relics  in  the  sun's 
Bright  temple,  to  Egyptian  Thebes  he  flies." 

THE    COCKATRICE,    OR    BASILISK 

This  animal  was  called  the  king  of  the  serpents.  In 
confirmation  of  his  royalty,  he  was  said  to  be  endowed 
with  a  crest,  or  comb  upon  the  head,  constituting  a 
crown.  He  was  supposed  to  be  produced  from  the  egg 
of  a  cock  hatched  under  toads  or  serpents.  There  were 
several  species  of  this  animal.  One  species  burned  up 
whatever  they  approached;  a  second  were  a  kind  of 
wandering  Medusa's  heads,  and  their  look  caused  an  in- 
stant horror  which  was  immediately  followed  by  death. 
In  Shakspeare's  play  of  "Richard  the  Third,"  Lady 


THE  COCKATRICE,  OR  BASILISK        313 

Anne,  in  answer  to  Richard's  compliment  on  her  eyes, 
says,  "Would  they  were  basilisk's,  to  strike  thee 
dead!" 

The  basilisks  were  called  kings  of  serpents  because 
all  other  serpents  and  snakes,  behaving  like  good  sub- 
jects, and  wisely  not  wishing  to  be  burned  up  or  struck 
dead,  fled  the  moment  they  heard  the  distant  hiss  of 
their  king,  although  they  might  be  in  full  feed  upon 
the  most  delicious  prey,  leaving  the  sole  enjoyment  of 
the  banquet  to  the  royal  monster. 

The  Roman  naturalist  Pliny  thus  describes  him:  "He 
does  not  impel  his  body,  like  other  serpents,  by  a  mul- 
tiplied flexion,  but  advances  lofty  and  upright.  He 
kills  the  shrubs,  not  only  by  contact,  but  by  breathing 
on  them,  and  splits  the  rocks,  such  power  of  evil  is  there 
in  him."  It  was  formerly  believed  that  if  killed  by  a 
spear  from  on  horseback  the  power  of  the  poison  con- 
ducted through  the  weapon  killed  not  only  the  rider, 
but  the  horse  also.  To  this  Lucan  alludes  in  these 
lines : 

"What  though  the  Moor  the  basilisk  hath  slain, 
And  pinned  him  lifeless  to  the  sandy  plain. 
Up  through  the  spear  the  subtle  venom  flies, 
The  hand  imbibes  it,  and  the  victor  dies." 

Such  a  prodigy  was  not  likely  to  be  passed  over  in 
the  legends  of  the  saints.  Accordingly  we  find  it  re- 
corded that  a  certain  holy  man,  going  to  a  fountain  in 
the  desert,  suddenly  beheld  a  basilisk.  He  immediately 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  a  pious  appeal  to 
the  Deity  laid  the  monster  dead  at  his  feet. 

These  wonderful  powers  of  the  basilisk  are  attested 
by  a  host  of  learned  persons,  such  as  Galen,  Avicenna, 
Scaliger,  and  others.  Occasionally  one  would  demur  to 
some  part  of  the  tale  while  he  admitted  the  rest.  Jon- 
ston,  a  learned  physician,  sagely  remarks,  "I  would 
scarcely  believe  that  it  kills  with  its  look,  for  who  could 
have  seen  it  and  lived  to  tell  the  story?"  The  worthy 
sage  was  not  aware  that  those  who  went  to  hunt  the 
basilisk  of  this  sort  took  with  them  a  mirror,  which  re- 
flected back  the  deadly  glare  upon  its  author,  and  by  a 


314        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

kind  of  poetical  justice  slew  the  basilisk  with  his  own 
weapon. 

But  what  was  to  attack  this  terrible  and  unapproach- 
able monster  ?  There  is  an  old  saying  that  "everything 
has  its  enemy" — and  the  cockatrice  quailed  before  the 
weasel.  The  basilisk  might  look  daggers,  the  weasel 
cared  not,  but  advanced  boldly  to  the  conflict.  When 
bitten,  the  weasel  retired  for  a  moment  to  eat  some 
rue,  which  was  the  only  plant  the  basilisks  could  not 
wither,  returned  with  renewed  strength  and  soundness 
to  the  charge,  and  never  left  the  enemy  till  he  was 
stretched  dead  on  the  plain.  The  monster,  too,  as  if 
conscious  of  the  irregular  way  in  which  he  came  into 
the  world,  was  supposed  to  have  a  great  antipathy  to  a 
cock;  and  well  he  might,  for  as  soon  as  he  heard  the 
cock  crow  he  expired. 

The  basilisk  was  of  some  use  after  death.  Thus  we 
read  that  its  carcass  was  suspended  in  the  temple  of 
Apollo,  and  in  private  houses,  as  a  sovereign  remedy 
against  spiders,  and  that  it  was  also  hung  up  in  the 
temple  of  Diana,  for  which  reason  no  swallow  ever 
dared  enter  the  sacred  place. 

The  reader  will,  we  apprehend,  by  this  time  have  had 
enough  of  absurdities,  but  still  we  can  imagine  his  anxi- 
ety to  know  what  a  cockatrice  was  like.  The  follow- 
ing is  from  Aldrovandus,  a  celebrated  naturalist  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  whose  work  on  natural  history,  in 
thirteen  folio  volumes,  contains  with  much  that  is  valu- 
able a  large  proportion  of  fables  and  inutilities.  In 
particular  he  is  so  ample  on  the  subject  of  the  cock  and 
the  bull  that  from  his  practice,  all  rambling,  gossiping 
tales  of  doubtful  credibility  are  called  cock  and  bull 
stories.  Aldrovandus,  however,  deserves  our  respect  and 
esteem  as  the  founder  of  a  botanic  garden,  and  as  a 
pioneer  in  the  now  prevalent  custom  of  making  scientific 
collections  for  purposes  of  investigation  and  research. 

Shelley,  in  his  "Ode  to  Naples,"  full  of  the  enthu- 
siasm excited  by  the  intelligence  of  the  proclamation 
of  a  Constitutional  Government  at  Naples,  in  1820,  thus 
uses  an  allusion  to  the  basilisk : 


THE  UNICORN  315 

"What  though  Cimmerian  anarchs  dare  blaspheme 
Freedom  and  thee?  a  new  Actseon's  error 
Shall  theirs  have  been, — devoured  by  their  own  hounds! 

Be  thou  like  the  imperial  basilisk, 
Killing  thy  foe  with  unapparent  wounds! 

Gaze  on  oppression,  till  at  that  dread  risk, 
Aghast  she  pass  from  the  earth's  disk. 
Fear  not,  but  gaze, — for  freemen  mightier  grow, 
And  slaves  more  feeble,  gazing  on  their  foe." 

THE  UNICORN 

Pliny,  the  Roman  naturalist,  out  of  whose  account 
of  the  unicorn  most  of  the  modern  unicorns  have  been 
described  and  figured,  records  it  as  "a  very  ferocious 
beast,  similar  in  the  rest  of  its  body  to  a  horse,  with 
the  head  of  a  deer,  the  feet  of  an  elephant,  the  tail  of 
a  boar,  a  deep,  bellowing  voice,  and  a  single  black  horn, 
two  cubits  in  length,  standing  out  in  the  middle  of  its 
forehead."  He  adds  that  "it  cannot  be  taken  alive;" 
and  some  such  excuse  may  have  been  necessary  in  those 
days  for  not  producing  the  living  animal  upon  the  arena 
of  the  amphitheatre. 

The  unicorn  seems  to  have  been  a  sad  puzzle  to  the 
hunters,  who  hardly  knew  how  to  come  at  so  valuable 
a  piece  of  game.  Some  described  the  horn  as  movable 
at  the  will  of  the  animal,  a  kind  of  small  sword,  in  short, 
with  which  no  hunter  who  was  not  exceedingly  cunning 
in  fence  could  have  a  chance.  Others  maintained  that 
all  the  animal's  strength  lay  in  its  horn,  and  that  when 
hard  pressed  in  pursuit,  it  would  throw  itself  from  the 
pinnacle  of  the  highest  rocks  horn  foremost,  so  as  to 
pitch  upon  it,  and  then  quietly  march  off  not  a  whit 
the  worse  for  its  fall. 

But  it  seems  they  found  out  how  to  circumvent  the 
poor  unicorn  at  last.  They  discovered  that  it  was  a 
great  lover  of  purity  and  innocence,  so  they  took  the 
field  with  a  young  virgin,  who  was  placed  in  the  un- 
suspecting admirer's  way.  When  the  unicorn  spied  her, 
he  approached  with  all  reverence,  couched  beside  her, 
and  laying  his  head  in  her  lap,  fell  asleep.  The  treach- 
erous virgin  then  gave  a  signal,  and  the  hunters  made 
in  and  captured  the  simple  beast. 


316        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Modern  zoologists,  disgusted  as  they  well  may  be 
with  such  fables  as  these,  disbelieve  generally  the  ex- 
istence of  the  unicorn.  Yet  there  are  animals  bearing  on 
their  heads  a  bony  protuberance  more  or  less  like  a  horn, 
which  may  have  given  rise  to  the  story.  The  rhinoceros 
horn,  as  it  is  called,  is  such  a  protuberance,  though  it 
does  not  exceed  a  few  inches  in  height,  and  is  far  from 
agreeing  with  the  descriptions  of  the  horn  of  the  uni- 
corn. The  nearest  approach  to  a  horn  in  the  middle 
of  the  forehead  is  exhibited  in  the  bony  protuberance 
on  the  forehead  of  the  giraffe;  but  this  also  is  short 
and  blunt,  and  is  not  the  only  horn  of  the  animal,  but 
a  third  horn,  standing  in  front  of  the  two  others.  In 
fine,  though  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  deny  the  ex- 
istence of  a  one-horned  quadruped  other  than  the  rhi- 
noceros, it  may  be  safely  stated  that  the  insertion  of  a 
long  and  solid  horn  in  the  living  forehead  of  a  horse- 
like  or  deer-like  animal  is  as  near  an  impossibility  as 
anything  can  be. 

THE   SALAMANDER 

The  following  is  from  the  "Life  of  Benvenuto  Cel- 
lini," an  Italian  artist  of  the  sixteenth  century,  written 
by  himself :  "When  I  was  about  five  years  of  age,  my 
father,  happening  to  be  in  a  little  room  in  which  they 
had  been  washing,  and  where  there  was  a  good  fire  of 
oak  burning,  looked  into  the  flames  and  saw  a  little 
animal  resembling  a  lizard,  which  could  live  in  the 
hottest  part  of  that  element.  Instantly  perceiving  what 
it  was,  he  called  for  my  sister  and  me,  and  after  he  had 
shown  us  the  creature,  he  gave  me  a  box  on  the  ear.  I 
fell  a-crying,  while  he,  soothing  me  with  caresses,  spoke 
these  words :  'My  dear  child,  I  do  not  give  you  that  blow 
for  any  fault  you  have  committed,  but  that  you  may  rec- 
ollect that  the  little  creature  you  see  in  the  fire  is  a 
salamander;  such  a  one  as  never  was  beheld  before  to 
my  knowledge.'  So  saying  he  embraced  me,  and  gave 
me  some  money." 

It  seems  unreasonable  to  doubt  a  story  of  which 
Signor  Cellini  was  both  an  eye  and  ear  witness.  Add 


THE  SALAMANDER  317 

to  which  the  authority  of  numerous  sage  philosophers, 
at  the  head  of  whom  are  Aristotle  and  Pliny,  affirms 
this  power  of  the  salamander.  According  to  them,  the 
animal  not  only  resists  fire,  but  extinguishes  it,  and  when 
he  sees  the  flame  charges  it  as  an  enemy  which  he  well 
knows  how  to  vanquish. 

That  the  skin  of  an  animal  which  could  resist  the 
action  of  fire  should  be  considered  proof  against  that 
element  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  We  accordingly  find 
that  a  cloth  made  of  the  skin  of  salamanders  (for  there 
really  is  such  an  animal,  a  kind  of  lizard)  was  incom- 
bustible, and  very  valuable  for  wrapping  up  such  articles 
as  were  too  precious  to  be  intrusted  to  any  other  en- 
velopes. These  fire-proof  cloths  were  actually  produced, 
said  to  be  made  of  salamander's  wool,  though  the  know- 
ing ones  detected  that  the  substance  of  which  they 
were  composed  was  asbestos,  a  mineral,  which  is  in 
fine  filaments  capable  of  being  woven  into  a  flexible 
cloth. 

The  foundation  of  the  above  fables  is  supposed  to  be 
the  fact  that  the  salamander  really  does  secrete  from 
the  pores  of  his  body  a  milky  juice,  which  when  he  is 
irritated  is  produced  in  considerable  quantity,  and  would 
doubtless,  for  a  few  moments,  defend  the  body  from 
fire.  Then  it  is  a  hibernating  animal,  and  in  winter  re- 
tires to  some  hollow  tree  or  other  cavity,  where  it  coils 
itself  up  and  remains  in  a  torpid  state  till  the  spring 
again  calls  it  forth.  It  may  therefore  sometimes  be 
carried  with  the  fuel  to  the  fire,  and  wake  up  only  time 
enough  to  put  forth  all  its  faculties  for  its  defence. 
Its  viscous  juice  would  do  good  service,  and  all  who 
profess  to  have  seen  it,  acknowledge  that  it  got  out  of 
the  fire  as  fast  as  its  legs  could  carry  it;  indeed,  too 
fast  for  them  ever  to  make  prize  of  one,  except  in  one 
instance,  and  in  that  one  the  animal's  feet  and  some 
parts  of  its  body  were  badly  burned. 

Dr.  Young,  In  the  "Night  Thoughts,"  with  more 
quaintness  than  good  taste,  compares  the  sceptic  who 
can  remain  unmoved  in  the  contemplation  of  the  starry 
heavens  to  a  salamander  unwarmed  in  the  fire : 


318       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
"An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad! 

"O,  what  a  genius  must  inform  the  skies! 
And  is  Lorenzo's  salamander-heart 
Cold  and  untouched  amid  these  sacred  fires?" 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

EASTERN      MYTHOLOGY ZOROASTER — HINDU      MYTHOLOGY 

— CASTES — BUDDHA — GRAND   LAMA 

ZOROASTER 

OUR  knowledge  of  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Persians 
is  principally  derived  from  the  Zendavesta,  or  sacred 
books  of  that  people.  Zoroaster  was  the  founder  of 
their  religion,  or  rather  the  reformer  of  the  religion 
which  preceded  him.  The  time  when  he  lived  is  doubt- 
ful, but  it  is  certain  that  his  system  became  the  dom- 
inant religion  of  Western  Asia  from  the  time  of  Cyrus 
(550  B.C.)  to  the  conquest  of  Persia  by  Alexander  the 
Great.  Under  the  Macedonian  monarchy  the  doctrines 
of  Zoroaster  appear  to  have  been  considerably  cor- 
rupted by  the  introduction  of  foreign  opinions,  but  they 
afterwards  recovered  their  ascendency. 

Zoroaster  taught  the  existence  of  a  supreme  being, 
who  created  two  other  mighty  beings  and  imparted  to 
them  as  much  of  his  own  nature  as  seemed  good  to  him. 
Of  these,  Ormuzd  (called  by  the  Greeks  Oromasdes) 
remained  faithful  to  his  creator,  and  was  regarded  as 
the  source  of  all  good,  while  Ahriman  (Arimanes) 
rebelled,  and  became  the  author  of  all  evil  upon  the 
earth.  Ormuzd  created  man  and  supplied  him  with  all 
the  materials  of  happiness;  but  Ahriman  marred  this 
happiness  by  introducing  evil  into  the  world,  and  creat- 
ing savage  beasts  and  poisonous  reptiles  and  plants.  In 
consequence  of  this,  evil  and  good  are  now  mingled  to- 
gether in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  the  followers  of 
good  and  evil — the  adherents  of  Ormuzd  and  Ahriman — 
carry  on  incessant  war.  But  this  state  of  things  will  not 


ZOROASTER  319 

last  forever.  The  time  will  come  when  the  adherents  of 
Ormuzd  shall  everywhere  be  victorious,  and  Ahriman 
and  his  followers  be  consigned  to  darkness  forever. 

The  religious  rites  of  the  ancient  Persians  were  ex- 
ceedingly simple.  They  used  neither  temples,  altars,  nor 
statues,  and  performed  their  sacrifices  on  the  tops  of 
mountains.  They  adored  fire,  light,  and  the  sun  as  em- 
blems of  Ormuzd,  the  source  of  all  light  and  purity,  but 
did  not  regard  them  as  independent  deities.  The  re- 
ligious rites  and  ceremonies  were  regulated  by  the 
priests,  who  were  called  Magi.  The  learning  of  the 
Magi  was  connected  with  astrology  and  enchantment, 
in  which  they  were  so  celebrated  that  their  name  was 
applied  to  all  orders  of  magicians  and  enchanters. 

Wordsworth  thus  alludes  to  the  worship  of  the  Per- 
sians : 

".  .  .  the  Persian, — zealous  to  reject 
Altar  and  Image,  and  the  inclusive  walls 
And  roofs  of  temples  built  by  human  hands, — 
The  loftiest  heights  ascending,  from  their  tops, 
With  myrtle-wreathed  Tiara  on  his  brows, 
Presented  sacrifice  to  Moon  and  Stars, 
And  to  the  Winds  and  mother  Elements, 
And  the  whole  circle  of  the  Heavens,  for  him 
A  sensitive  existence  and  a  God." 

— Excursion,  Book  IV. 

In  "Childe  Harold'*  Byron  speaks  thus  of  the  Persian 
worship : 

"Not  vainly  did  the  early  Persian  make 
His  altar  the  high  places  and  the  peak 
Of  earth-o'er-gazing  mountains,  and  thus  take 
A  fit  and  unwalled  temple,  there  to  seek 
The  Spirit,  in  whose  honor  shrines  are  weak, 
Upreared  of  human  hands.     Come  and  compare 
Columns  and  idol-dwellings,  Goth  or  Greek, 
With  Nature's  realms  of  worship,  earth  and  air, 
Nor  fix  on  fond  abodes  to  circumscribe  thy  prayer." 

Ill,  91. 

The  religion  of  Zoroaster  continued  to  flourish  even 
after  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  and  in  the  third 
century  was  the  dominant  faith  of  the  East,  till  the  rise 
of  the  Mahometan  power  and  the  conquest  of  Persia  by. 


320        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

the  Arabs  in  the  seventh  century,  who  compelled  the 
greater  number  of  the  Persians  to  renounce  their  ancient 
faith.  Those  who  refused  to  abandon  the  religion  of 
their  ancestors  fled  to  the  deserts  of  Kerman  and  to 
Hindustan,  where  they  still  exist  under  the  name  of 
Parsees,  a  name  derived  from  Pars,  the  ancient  name  of 
Persia.  The  Arabs  call  them  Guebers,  from  an  Arabic 
word  signifying  unbelievers.  At  Bombay  the  Parsees 
are  at  this  day  a  very  active,  intelligent,  and  wealthy 
class.  For  purity  of  life,  honesty,  and  conciliatory  man- 
ners, they  are  favorably  distinguished.  They  have 
numerous  temples  to  Fire,  which  they  adore  as  the  sym- 
bol of  the  divinity. 

The  Persian  religion  makes  the  subject  of  the  finest 
tale  in  Moore's  "Lalla  Rookh,"  the  "Fire  Worshippers." 
The  Gueber  chief  says, 

"Yes !  I  am  of  that  impious  race, 

Those  slaves  of  Fire,  that  morn  and  even 
Hail  their  creator's  dwelling-place 

Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven; 
Yes!  I  am  of  that  outcast  crew 
To  Iran  and  to  vengeance  true, 
Who  curse  the  hour  your  Arabs  came 
To  desecrate  our  shrines  of  flame, 
And  swear  before  God's  burning  eye, 
To  break  our  country's  chains  or  die." 


HINDU   MYTHOLOGY 

The  religion  of  the  Hindus  is  professedly  founded  on 
the  Vedas.  To  these  books  of  their  scripture  they  at- 
tach the  greatest  sanctity,  and  state  that  Brahma  him- 
self composed  them  at  the  creation.  But  the  present 
arrangement  of  the  Vedas  is  attributed  to  the  sage 
Vyasa,  about  five  thousand  years  ago. 

The  Vedas  undoubtedly  teach  the  belief  of  one  su- 
preme God.  The  name  of  this  deity  is  Brahma.  His 
attributes  are  represented  by  the  three  personified  powers 
of  creation,  preservation,  and  destruction,  which  under 
the  respective  names  of  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Siva  form 
the  Tnmurti  or  triad  of  principal  Hindu  gods.  Of  the 
inferior  gods  the  most  important  are:  1.  Indra,  the  god 


VISHNU  321 

of  heaven,  of  thunder,  lightning,  storm,  and  rain;  2. 
Agni,  the  god  of  fire;  3.  Yama,  the  god  of  the  infernal 
regions;  4.  Surya,  the  god  of  the  sun. 

Brahma  is  the  creator  of  the  universe,  and  the  source 
from  which  all  the  individual  deities  have  sprung,  and 
into  which  all  will  ultimately  be  absorbed.  "As  milk 
changes  to  curd,  and  water  to  ice,  so  is  Brahma  vari- 
ously transformed  and  diversified,  without  aid  of  exterior 
means  of  any  sort."  The  human  soul,  according  to  the 
Vedas,  is  a  portion  of  the  supreme  ruler,  as  a  spark  is 
of  the  fire. 

VISHNU 

Vishnu  occupies  the  second  place  in  the  triad  of  the 
Hindus,  and  is  the  personification  of  the  preserving 
principle.  To  protect  the  world  in  various  epochs  of 
danger,  Vishnu  descended  to  the  earth  in  different  incar- 
nations, or  bodily  forms,  which  descents  are  called  Ava- 
tars. They  are  very  numerous,  but  ten  are  more  partic- 
ularly specified.  The  first  Avatar  was  as  Matsya,  the 
Fish,  under  which  form  Vishnu  preserved  Manu,  the 
ancestor  of  the  human  race,  during  a  universal  deluge. 
The  second  Avatar  was  in  the  form  of  a  Tortoise,  which 
form  he  assumed  to  support  the  earth  when  the  gods 
were  churning  the  sea  for  the  beverage  of  immortality, 
Amrita. 

We  may  omit  the  other  Avatars,  which  were  of  the 
same  general  character,  that  is,  interpositions  to  protect 
the  right  or  to  punish  wrong-doers,  and  come  to  the 
ninth,  which  is  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Avatars  of 
Vishnu,  in  which  he  appeared  in  the  human  form  of 
Krishna,  an  invincible  warrior,  who  by  his  exploits  re- 
lieved the  earth  from  the  tyrants  who  oppressed  it. 

Buddha  is  by  the  followers  of  the  Brahmanical  religion 
regarded  as  a  delusive  incarnation  of  Vishnu,  assumed 
by  him  in  order  to  induce  the  Asuras,  opponents  of  the 
gods,  to  abandon  the  sacred  ordinances  of  the  Vedas,  by 
which  means  they  lost  their  strength  and  supremacy. 

Kalki  is  the  name  of  the  tenth  Avatar,  in  which 
Vishnu  will  appear  at  the  end  of  the  present  age  of  the 


322        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HERUES 

world  to  destroy  all  vice  and  wickedness,  and  to  restore 
mankind  to  virtue  and  purity. 


SIVA 

Siva  is  the  third  person  of  the  Hindu  triad.  He  is  the 
personification  of  the  destroying  principle.  Though  the 
third  name,  he  is,  in  respect  to  the  number  of  his  wor- 
shippers and  the  extension  of  his  worship,  before  either 
of  the  others.  In  the  Puranas  (the  scriptures  of  the 
modern  Hindu  religion)  no  allusion  is  made  to  the  orig- 
inal power  of  this  god  as  a  destroyer;  that  power  not 
being  to  be  called  into  exercise  till  after  the  expiration  of 
twelve  millions  of  years,  or  when  the  universe  will  come 
to  an  end;  and  Mahadeva  (another  name  for  Siva)  is 
rather  the  representative  of  regeneration  than  of  de- 
struction. 

The  worshippers  of  Vishnu  and  Siva  form  two  sects, 
each  of  which  proclaims  the  superiority  of  its  favorite 
*ieity,  denying  the  claims  of  the  other,  and  Brahma,  the 
creator,  having  finished  his  work,  seems  to  be  regarded 
as  no  longer  active,  and  has  now  only  one  temple  in 
India,  while  Mahadeva  and  Vishnu  have  many.  The 
worshippers  of  Vishnu  are  generally  distinguished  by  a 
greater  tenderness  for  life,  and  consequent  abstinence 
from  animal  food,  and  a  worship  less  cruel  than  that  of 
the  followers  of  Siva. 

JUGGERNAUT 

Whether  the  worshippers  of  Juggernaut  are  to  be 
reckoned  among  the  followers  of  Vishnu  or  Siva,  our 
authorities  differ.  The  temple  stands  near  the  shore, 
about  three  hundred  miles  south-west  of  Calcutta.  The 
idol  is  a  carved  block  of  wood,  with  a  hideous  face, 
painted  black,  and  a  distended  blood-red  mouth.  On 
festival  days  the  throne  of  the  image  is  placed  on  a 
tower  sixty  feet  high,  moving  on  wheels.  Six  long  ropes 
are  attached  to  the  tower,  by  which  the  people  draw  it 
along.  The  priests  and  their  attendants  stand  round  the 


CASTES  323 

throne  on  the  tower,  and  occasionally  turn  to  the  wor- 
shippers with  songs  and  gestures.  While  the  tower 
moves  along  numbers  of  the  devout  worshippers  throw 
themselves  on  the  ground,  in  order  to  be  crushed  by  the 
wheels,  and  the  multitude  shout  in  approbation  of  the, 
act,  as  a  pleasing  sacrifice  to  the  idol.  Every  year,  par- 
ticularly at  two  great  festivals  in  March  and  July,  pil- 
grims flock  in  crowds  to  the  temple.  Not  less  than  sev- 
enty or  eighty  thousand  people  are  said  to  visit  the  place 
on  these  occasions,  when  all  castes  eat  together. 

CASTES 

The  division  of  the  Hindus  into  classes  or  castes, 
with  fixed  occupations,  existed  from  the  earliest  times. 
It  is  supposed  by  some  to  have  been  founded  upon  con- 
quest, the  first  three  castes  being  composed  of  a  foreign 
race,  who  subdued  the  natives  of  the  country  and  re- 
duced them  to  an  inferior  caste.  Others  trace  it  to  the 
fondness  of  perpetuating,  by  descent  from  father  to  son, 
certain  offices  or  occupations. 

The  Hindu  tradition  gives  the  following  account  of 
the  origin  of  the  various  castes :  At  the  creation  Brahma 
resolved  to  give  the  earth  inhabitants  who  should  be 
direct  emanations  from  his  own  body.  Accordingly 
from  his  mouth  came  forth  the  eldest  born,  Brahma  (the 
priest),  to  whom  he  confided  the  four  Vedas;  from 
his  right  arm  issued  Shatriya  (the  warrior),  and  from 
his  left,  the  warrior's  wife.  His  thighs  produced 
Vaissyas,  male  and  female  (agriculturists  and  traders), 
and  lastly  from  his  feet  sprang  Sudras  (mechanics  and 
laborers). 

The  four  sons  of  Brahma,  so  significantly  brought 
into  the  world,  became  the  fathers  of  the  human  race, 
and  heads  of  their  respective  castes.  They  were  com- 
manded to  regard  the  four  Vedas  as  containing  all  the 
rules  of  their  faith,  and  all  that  was  necessary  to  guide 
them  in  their  religious  ceremonies.  They  were  also 
commanded  to  take  rank  in  the  order  of  their  birth,  the 
Brahmans  uppermost,  as  having  sprung  from  the  head 
of  Brahma 


324        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

A  strong  line  of  demarcation  is  drawn  between  the 
first  three  castes  and  the  Sudras.  The  former  are  al- 
lowed to  receive  instruction  from  the  Vedas,  which  is 
not  permitted  to  the  Sudras.  The  Brahmans  possess 
the  privilege  of  teaching  the  Vedas,  and  were  in  former 
times  in  exclusive  possession  of  all  knowledge.  Though 
the  sovereign  of  the  country  was  chosen  from  the  Sha- 
triya  class,  also  called  Rajputs,  the  Brahmans  possessed 
the  real  power,  and  were  the  royal  counsellors,  the 
judges  and  magistrates  of  the  country;  their  persons 
and  property  were  inviolable;  and  though  they  commit- 
ted the  greatest  crimes,  they  could  only  be  banished 
from  the  kingdom.  They  were  to  be  treated  by  sov- 
ereigns with  the  greatest  respect,  for  "a  Brahman, 
whether  learned  or  ignorant,  is  a  powerful  divinity." 

When  the  Brahman  arrives  at  years  of  maturity  it  be- 
comes his  duty  to  marry.  He  ought  to  be  supported 
by  the  contributions  of  the  rich,  and  not  to  be  obliged  to 
gain  his  subsistence  by  any  laborious  or  productive  occu- 
pation. But  as  all  the  Brahmans  could  not  be  main- 
tained by  the  working  classes  of  the  community,  it  was 
found  necessary  to  allow  them  to  engage  in  productive 
employments. 

We  need  say  little  of  the  two  intermediate  classes, 
whose  rank  and  privileges  may  be  readily  inferred  from 
their  occupations.  The  Sudras  or  fourth  class  are 
bound  to  servile  attendance  on  the  higher  classes,  espe- 
cially the  Brahmans,  but  they  may  follow  mechanical 
occupations  and  practical  arts,  as  painting  and  writing, 
or  become  traders  or  husbandmen.  Consequently  they 
sometimes  grow  rich,  and  it  will  also  sometimes  happen 
that  Brahmans  become  poor.  That  fact  works  its  usual 
consequence,  and  rich  Sudras  sometimes  employ  poor 
Brahmans  in  menial  occupations. 

There  is  another  class  lower  even  than  the  Sudras, 
for  it  is  not  one  of  the  original  pure  classes,  but  springs 
from  an  unauthorized  union  of  individuals  of  different 
castes.  These  are  the  Pariahs,  who  are  employed  in  the 
lowest  services  and  treated  with  the  utmost  severity. 
They  are  compelled  to  do  what  no  one  else  can  do  with- 
out pollution.  They  are  not  only  considered  unclean 


BUDDHA  325 

themselves,  but  they  render  unclean  everything  they 
touch.  They  are  deprived  of  all  civil  rights,  and  stig- 
matized by  particular  laws  regulating  their  mode  of  life, 
their  houses,  and  their  furniture.  They  are  not  allowed 
to  visit  the  pagodas  or  temples  of  the  other  castes,  but 
have  their  own  pagodas  and  religious  exercises.  They 
are  not  suffered  to  enter  the  houses  of  the  other  castes; 
if  it  is  done  incautiously  or  from  necessity,  the  place 
must  be  purified  by  religious  ceremonies.  They  must 
not  appear  at  public  markets,  and  are  confined  to  the 
use  of  particular  wells,  which  they  are  obliged  to  sur- 
round with  bones  of  animals,  to  warn  others  against 
using  them.  They  dwell  in  miserable  hovels,  distant 
from  cities  and  villages,  and  are  under  no  restrictions  in 
regard  to  food,  which  last  is  not  a  privilege,  but  a  mark 
of  ignominy,  as  if  they  were  so  degraded  that  nothing 
could  pollute  them.  The  three  higher  castes  are  prohib- 
ited entirely  the  use  of  flesh.  The  fourth  is  allowed  to 
use  all  kinds  except  beef,  but  only  the  lowest  caste  is  al- 
lowed every  kind  of  food  without  restriction. 

BUDDHA 

Buddha,  whom  the  Vedas  represent  as  a  delusive  in- 
carnation of  Vishnu,  is  said  by  his  followers  to  have 
been  a  mortal  sage,  whose  name  was  Gautama,  called 
also  by  the  complimentary  epithets  of  Sakyasinha,  the 
Lion,  and  Buddha,  the  Sage. 

By  a  comparison  of  the  various  epochs  assigned  to 
his  birth,  it  is  inferred  that  he  lived  about  one  thousand 
years  before  Christ. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  king;  and  when  in  conformity 
to  the  usage  of  the  country  he  was,  a  few  days  after 
his  birth,  presented  before  the  altar  of  a  deity,  the  image 
is  said  to  have  inclined  its  head  as  a  presage  of  the 
future  greatness  of  the  new-born  prophet.  The  child 
soon  developed  faculties  of  the  first  order,  and  became 
equally  distinguished  hy  the  uncommon  beauty  of  his 
person.  No  sooner  had  he  grown  to  years  of  maturity 
than  he  began  to  reflect  deeply  on  the  depravity  and 
misery  of  mankind,  "and  he  conceived  the  idea  of  retiring 


326       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

from  society  and  devoting  himself  to  meditation.  His 
father  in  vain  opposed  this  design.  Buddha  escaped  the 
vigilance  of  his  guards,  and  having  found  a  secure  re- 
treat, lived  for  six  years  undisturbed  in  his  devout  con- 
templations. At  the  expiration  of  that  period  he  came 
forward  at  Benares  as  a  religious  teacher.  At  first  some 
who  heard  him  doubted  of  the  soundness  of  his  mind; 
hut  his  doctrines  soon  gained  credit,  and  were  propa- 
gated so  rapidly  that  Buddha  himself  lived  to  see  them 
spread  all  over  India.  He  died  at  the  age  of  eighty 
>ears. 

The  Buddhists  reject  entirely  the  authority  of  the 
Vedas,  and  the  religious  observances  prescribed  in  them 
and  kept  by  the  Hindus.  They  also  reject  the  distinc- 
tion of  castes,  and  prohibit  all  bloody  sacrifices,  and  al- 
low animal  food.  Their  priests  are  chosen  from  all 
classes;  they  are  expected  to  procure  their  maintenance 
by  perambulation  and  begging,  and  among  other  things 
it  is  their  duty  to  endeavor  to  turn  to  some  use  things 
thrown  aside  as  useless  by  others,  and  to  discover  the 
medicinal  power  of  plants.  But  in  Ceylon  three  orders 
of  priests  are  recognized ;  those  of  the  highest  order  are 
usually  men  of  high  birth  and  learning,  and  are 
supported  at  the  principal  temples,  most  of  which  have 
been  richly  endowed  by  the  former  monarchs  of  the 
country. 

For  several  centuries  after  the  appearance  of  Buddha, 
his  sect  seems  to  have  been  tolerated  by  the  Brahmans, 
and  BuHHhJsm  appears  to  have  penetrated  the  peninsula 
of  Hindustan  in  every  direction,  and  to  have  been  car- 
ried to  Ceylon,  and  to  the  eastern  peninsula.  But  after- 
wards it  had  to  endure  in  India  a  long-continued  persecu- 
tion, which  ultimately  had  the  effect  of  entirely  abolish- 
ing it  in  the  country  where  it  had  originated,  but  to 
scatter  it  widely  over  adjacent  countries.  Buddhism  ap- 
pears to  have  been  introduced  into  China  about  the  year 
55  of  our  era.  From  China  it  was  subsequently  extended 
to  Corea,  Japan,  and  Java. 


PRESTER  JOHN  327 


THE  GRAND  LAMA 

It  is  a  doctrine  alike  of  the  Brahminical  Hindus  and 
of  the  Buddhist  sect  that  the  confinement  of  the  human 
soul,  an  emanation  of  the  divine  spirit,  in  a  human 
body,  is  a  state  of  misery,  and  the  consequence  of 
frailties  and  sins  committed  during  former  existences. 
But  they  hold  that  some  few  individuals  have  appeared 
on  this  earth  from  time  to  time,  not  under  the  neces- 
sity of  terrestrial  existence,  but  who  voluntarily  de- 
scended to  the  earth  to  promote  the  welfare  of  man- 
kind. These  individuals  have  gradually  assumed  the  char- 
acter of  reappearances  of  Buddha  himself,  in  which 
capacity  the  line  is  continued  till  the  present  day,  in  the 
several  Lamas  of  Thibet,  China,  and  other  countries 
where  Buddhism  prevails.  In  consequence  of  the  vic- 
tories of  Gengis  Khan  and  his  successors,  the  Lama  re- 
siding in  Thibet  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  chief  pon- 
tiff of  the  sect.  A  separate  province  was  assigned  to 
him  as  his  own  territory,  and  besides  his  spiritual  dig- 
nity he  became  to  a  limited  extent  a  temporal  monarch. 
He  is  styled  the  Dalai  Lama. 

The  first  Christian  missionaries  who  proceeded  to 
Thibet  were  surprised  to  find  there  in  the  heart  of  Asia 
a  pontifical  court  and  several  other  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tions resembling  those  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 
They  found  convents  for  priests  and  nuns;  also  pro- 
cessions and  forms  of  religious  worship,  attended  with 
much  pomp  and  splendor;  and  many  were  induced  by 
these  similarities  to  consider  Lamaism  as  a  sort  of  de- 
generated Christianity.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the 
Lamas  derived  some  of  these  practices  from  the  Nesto- 
rian  Christians,  who  were  settled  in  Tartary  when 
Buddhism  was  introduced  into  Thibet. 

PRESTER  JOHN 

An  early  account,  communicated  probably  by  trav- 
elling merchants,  of  a  Lama  or  spiritual  chief  among 
the  Tartars,  seems  to  have  occasioned  in  Europe  the  re- 
port of  a  Presbyter  or  Prester  John,  a  Christian  pontiff 


328        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

resident  in  Upper  Asia.  The  Pope  sent  a  mission  in 
search  of  him,  as  did  also  Louis  IX.  of  France,  some 
years  later,  but  both  missions  were  unsuccessful,  though 
the  small  communities  of  Nestorian  Christians,  which 
they  did  find,  served  to  keep  up  the  belief  in  Europe  that 
such  a  personage  did  exist  somewhere  in  the  East.  At 
last  in  the  fifteenth  century,  a  Portuguese  traveller, 
Pedro  Covilham,  happening  to  hear  that  there  was  a 
Christian  prince  in  the  country  of  the  Abessines  (Abys- 
sinia), not  far  from  the  Red  Sea,  concluded  that  this 
must  be  the  true  Prester  John.  He  accordingly  went 
thither,  and  penetrated  to  the  court  of  the  king,  whom 
he  calls  Negus.  Milton  alludes  to  him  in  "Paradise 
Lost,"  Book  XL,  where,  describing  Adam's  vision  of 
his  descendants  in  their  various  nations  and  cities,  scat- 
tered over  the  face  of  the  earth,  he  says, — 

".  .  .  Nor  did  his  eyes  not  ken 
Th*  empire  of  Negus,  to  his  utmost  port, 
Ercoco,  and  the  less  maritime  kings, 
Mombaza  and  Quiloa  and  Melind." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

NORTHERN    MYTHOLOGY — VALHALLA — THE   VALKYRIOR 
NORTHERN  MYTHOLOGY 

THE  stories  which  have  engaged  our  attention  thus 
far  relate  to  the  mythology  of  southern  regions.  But 
there  is  another  branch  of  ancient  superstitions  which 
ought  not  to  be  entirely  overlooked,  especially  as  it  be- 
longs to  the  nations  from  which  we,  through  our 
English  ancestors,  derive  our  origin.  It  is  that  of  the 
northern  nations,  called  Scandinavians,  who  inhabited 
the  countries  now  known  as  Sweden,  Denmark,  Norway, 
and  Iceland.  These  mythological  records  are  con- 


NORTHERN  MYTHOLOGY  329 

tained  in  two  collections  called  the  Eddas,  of  which  the 
oldest  is  in  poetry  and  dates  back  to  the  year  1056,  the 
more  modern  or  prose  Edda  being  of  the  date  of  1640. 

According  to  the  Eddas  there  was  once  no  heaven 
above  nor  earth  beneath,  but  only  a  bottomless  deep, 
and  a  world  of  mist  in  which  flowed  a  fountain.  Twelve 
rivers  issued  from  this  fountain,  and  when  they  bad 
flowed  far  from  their  source,  they  froze  into  ice,  and  one 
layer  accumulating  over  another,  the  great  deep  was  filled 
up. 

Southward  from  the  world  of  mist  was  the  world  of 
light.  From  this  flowed  a  warm  wind  upon  the  ice  and 
melted  it.  The  vapors  rose  in  the  air  and  formed  clouds, 
from  which  sprang  Ymir,  the  Frost  giant  and  his  pro- 
geny, and  the  cow  Audhumbla,  whose  milk  afforded 
nourishment  and  food  to  the  giant.  The  cow  got  nour- 
ishment by  licking  the  hoar  frost  and  salt  from  the 
ice.  While  she  was  one  day  licking  the  salt  stones 
there  appeared  at  first  the  hair  of  a  man,  on  the  second 
day  the  whole  head,  and  on  the  third  the  entire  form 
endowed  with  beauty,  agility,  and  power.  This  new  be- 
ing was  a  god,  from  whom  and  his  wife,  a  daughter  of 
the  giant  race,  sprang  the  three  brothers  Odin,  Vili,  and 
Ve.  They  slew  the  giant  Ymir,  and  out  of  his  body 
formed  the  earth,  of  his  blood  the  seas,  of  his  bones  the 
mountains,  of  his  hair  the  trees,  of  his  skull  the  heavens, 
and  of  his  brain  clouds,  charged  with  hail  and  snow.  Of 
Ymir's  eyebrows  the  gods  formed  Midgard  (mid  earth), 
destined  to  become  the  abode  of  man. 

Odin  then  regulated  the  periods  of  day  and  night  ano 
*he  seasons  by  placing  in  the  heavens  the  sun  and  moon 
ind  appointing  to  them  their  respective  courses.  As 
soon  as  the  sun  began  to  shed  its  rays  upon  the  earth, 
it  caused  the  vegetable  world  to  bud  and  sprout. 
Shortly  after  the  gods  had  created  the  world  they 
walked  by  the  side  of  the  sea,  pleased  with  their  new 
work,  but  found  that  it  was  still  incomplete,  for  it  was 
without  human  beings.  They  therefore  took  an  ash  tree 
and  made  a  man  out  of  it,  and  they  made  a  woman  out 
of  an  elder,  and  called  the  man  Aske  and  the  woman 
Embla.  Odin  then  gave  them  life  and  soul,  Vili  reason 


330        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  motion,  and  Ve  bestowed  upon  them  the  senses,  ex- 
pressive features,  and  speech.  Midgard  was  then  given 
them  as  their  residence,  and  they  became  the  progenitors 
of  the  human  race. 

The  mighty  ash  tree  Ygdrasill  was  supposed  to  sup- 
port the  whole  universe.  It  sprang  from  the  body  of 
Ymir,  and  had  three  immense  roots,  extending  one  into 
Asgard  (the  dwelling  of  the  gods),  the  other  into  Jotun- 
heim  (the  abode  of  the  giants),  and  the  third  to  Niffle- 
heim  (the  regions  of  darkness  and  cold).  By  the  side 
of  each  of  these  roots  is  a  spring,  from  which  it  is 
watered.  The  root  that  extends  into  Asgard  is  care- 
fully tended  by  the  three  Norns,  goddesses,  who  are 
regarded  as  the  dispensers  of  fate.  They  are  Urdur 
(the  past),  Verdandi  (the  present),  Skuld  (the  future). 
The  spring  at  the  Jotunheim  side  is  Ymir's  well,  in 
which  wisdom  and  wit  lie  hidden,  but  that  of  Niffleheim 
feeds  the  adder  Nidhogge  (darkness),  which  perpetu- 
ally gnaws  at  the  root.  Four  harts  run  across  the 
branches  of  the  tree  and  bite  the  buds;  they  represent 
the  four  winds.  Under  the  tree  lies  Ymir,  and  when  he 
tries  to  shake  off  its  weight  the  earth  quakes. 

Asgard  is  the  name  of  the  abode  of  the  gods,  access 
to  which  is  only  gained  by  crossing  the  bridge  Bifrost 
(the  rainbow).  Asgard  consists  of  golden  and  silver 
palaces,  the  dwellings  of  the  gods,  but  the  most  beautiful 
of  these  is  Valhalla,  the  residence  of  Odin.  When 
seated  on  his  throne  he  overlooks  all  heaven  and  earth. 
Upon  his  shoulders  are  the  ravens  Hugin  and  Munin, 
who  fly  every  day  over  the  whole  world,  and  on  their 
return  report  to  him  all  they  have  seen  and  heard.  At 
his  feet  lie  his  two  wolves,  Geri  and  Freki,  to  whom 
Odin  gives  all  the  meat  that  is  set  before  him,  for  he 
himself  stands  in  no  need  of  food.  Mead  is  for  him 
both  food  and  drink.  He  invented  the  Runic  characters, 
and  it  is  the  business  of  the  Norns  to  engrave  the  runes 
of  fate  upon  a  metal  shield.  From  Odin's  name,  spelt 
Woden,  as  it  sometimes  is,  came  Wednesday,  the  name 
of  the  fourth  day  of  the  week. 

Odin  is  frequently  called  Alfadur  (All-father),  but 
this  name  is  sometimes  used  in  a  way  that  shows  that 


OF  THOR  AND  THE  OTHER  GODS   331 

the  Scandinavians  had  an  idea  of  a  deity  superior  to 
Odin,  uncreated  and  eternal. 

OF  THE  JOYS  OF  VALHALLA 

Valhalla  is  the  great  hall  of  Odin,  wherein  he  feasts 
with  his  chosen  heroes,  all  those  who  have  fallen  bravely 
in  battle,  for  all  who  die  a  peaceful  death  are  excluded. 
The  flesh  of  the  boar  Schrimnir  is  served  up  to  them, 
and  is  abundant  for  all.  For  although  this  boar  is  cooked 
every  morning,  he  becomes  whole  again  every  night. 
For  drink  the  heroes  are  supplied  abundantly  with  mead 
from  the  she-goat  Heidrum.  When  the  heroes  are  not 
feasting  they  amuse  themselves  with  fighting.  Every 
day  they  ride  out  into  the  court  or  field  and  fight  until 
they  cut  each  other  in  pieces.  This  is  their  pastime; 
but  when  meal  time  comes  they  recover  from  their 
wounds  and  return  to  feast  in  Valhalla. 

THE   VALKYRIE 

The  Valkyrie  are  warlike  virgins,  mounted  upon 
horses  and  armed  with  helmets  and  spears.  Odin,  who 
is  desirous  to  collect  a  great  many  heroes  in  Valhalk 
to  be  able  to  meet  the  giants  in  a  day  when  the  fina 
contest  must  come,  sends  down  to  every  battle-field  i>. 
make  choice  of  those  who  shall  be  slain.  The  Valky- 
rie are  his  messengers,  and  their  name  means  "Choosers 
of  the  slain."  When  they  ride  forth  on  their  errand, 
their  armor  sheds  a  strange  flickering  light,  which  flashes 
up  over  the  northern  skies,  making  what  men  call  the 
"Aurora  Borealis,"  or  "Northern  Lights."1 

OF  TIIOR  AND  THE  OTHER  GODS 

Thor,  the  thunderer,  Odin's  eldest  son,  is  the  strong- 
est of  gods  and  men,  and  possesses  three  very  pre- 
cious things.  The  first  is  a  hammer,  which  both  the 
Frost  and  the  Mountain  giants  know  to  their  cost,  when 
they  see  it  hurled  against  them  in  the  air,  for  it  has  split 
many  a  skull  of  their  fathers  and  kindred.  When 

1  Gray's  ode,  "The  Fatal  Sisters,"  is  founded  on  this  superstition. 


332        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

thrown,  it  returns  to  his  hand  of  its  own  accord.  The 
second  rare  thing  he  possesses  is  called  the  belt  of 
strength.  When  he  girds  it  about  him  his  divine  might 
is  doubled.  The  third,  also  very  precious,  is  his  iron 
gloves,  which  he  puts  on  whenever  he  would  use  his 
mallet  efficiently.  From  Thor's  name  is  derived  our 
word  Thursday. 

Frey  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  gods.  He 
presides  over  rain  and  sunshine  and  all  the  fruits  of  the 
earth.  His  sister  Freya  is  the  most  propitious  of  the 
goddesses.  She  loves  music,  spring,  and  flowers,  and  is 
particularly  fond  of  the  Elves  (fairies).  She  is  very 
fond  of  love  ditties,  and  all  lovers  would  do  well  to 
invoke  her. 

Bragi  is  the  god  of  poetry,  and  his  song  records  the 
deeds  of  warriors.  His  wife,  Iduna,  keeps  in  a  box 
the  apples  which  the  gods,  when  they  feel  old  age  ap- 
proaching, have  only  to  taste  of  to  become  young  again. 

Heimdall  is  the  watchman  of  the  gods,  and  is  there- 
fore placed  on  the  borders  of  heaven  to  prevent  the 
giants  from  forcing  their  way  over  the  bridge  Bifrost 
(the  rainbow).  He  requires  less  sleep  than  a  bird,  and 
sees  by  night  as  well  as  by  day  a  hundred  miles  around 
him.  So  acute  is  his  ear  that  no  sound  escapes  him,  for 
he  can  even  hear  the  grass  grow  and  the  wool  on  a 
sheep's  back. 

OF  LOKI  AND  HIS  PROGENY 

There  is  another  deity  who  is  described  as  the  calum- 
niator of  the  gods  and  the  contriver  of  all  fraud  and 
mischief.  His  name  is  Loki.  He  is  handsome  and  well 
made,  but  of  a  very  fickle  mood  and  most  evil  disposi- 
tion. He  is  of  the  giant  race,  but  forced  himself  into 
the  company  of  the  gods,  and  seems  to  take  pleasure  in 
bringing  them  into  difficulties,  and  in  extricating  them 
out  of  the  danger  by  his  cunning,  wit,  and  skill.  Loki 
has  three  children.  The  first  is  the  wolf  Fenris,  the 
second  the  Midgard  serpent,  the  third  Hela  (Death). 
The  gods  were  not  ignorant  that  these  monsters  were 
growing  up,  and  that  they  would  one  day  bring  much 


HOW  THOR  PAID  THE  GIANT'S  WAGES     333 

evil  upon  gods  and  men.  So  Odin  deemed  it  advis- 
able to  send  one  to  bring  them  to  him.  When  they  came 
he  threw  the  serpent  into  that  deep  ocean  by  which  the 
earth  is  surrounded.  But  the  monster  had  grown  to 
such  an  enormous  size  that  holding  his  tail  in  his  mouth 
he  encircles  the  whole  earth.  Hela  he  cast  into  Niffle- 
heim,  and  gave  her  power  over  nine  worlds  or  regions, 
into  which  she  distributes  those  who  are  sent  to  her; 
that  is,  all  who  die  of  sickness  or  old  age.  Her  hall  is 
called  Elvidner.  Hunger  is  her  table,  Starvation  her 
knife,  Delay  her  man,  Slowness  her  maid,  Precipice  her 
threshold,  Care  her  bed,  and  Burning  Anguish  forms  the 
hangings  of  the  apartments.  She  may  easily  be  recog- 
nized, for  her  body  is  half  flesh  color  and  half  blue,  and 
she  has  a  dreadfully  stern  and  forbidding  countenance. 
The  wolf  Fenris  gave  the  gods  a  great  deal  of  trou- 
ble before  they  succeeded  in  chaining  him.  He  broke 
the  strongest  fetters  as  if  they  were  made  of  cobwebs. 
Finally  the  gods  sent  a  messenger  to  the  mountain  spirits, 
who  made  for  them  the  chain  called  Gleipnir.  It  is 
fashioned  of  six  things,  viz.,  the  noise  made  by  the 
footfall  of  a  cat,  the  beards  of  women,  the  roots  of 
stones,  the  breath  of  fishes,  the  nerves  (sensibilities)  of 
bears,  and  the  spittle  of  birds.  When  finished  it  was 
as  smooth  and  soft  as  a  silken  string.  But  when  the 
gods  asked  the  wolf  to  suffer  himself  to  be  bound  with 
this  apparently  slight  ribbon,  he  suspected  their  design, 
fearing  that  it  was  made  by  enchantment.  He  there- 
fore only  consented  to  be  bound  with  it  upon  condition 
that  one  of  the  gods  put  his  hand  in  his  (Fenris's) 
mouth  as  a  pledge  that  the  band  was  to  be  removed 
again.  Tyr  (the  god  of  battles)  alone  had  courage 
enough  to  do  this.  But  when  the  wolf  found  that  he 
could  not  break  his  fetters,  and  that  the  gods  would  not 
release  him,  he  bit  off  Tyr's  hand,  and  he  has  ever  since 
remained  one-handed. 

HOW   THOR    PAID   THE    MOUNTAIN    GIANT    HIS    WAGES 

Once  on  a  time,   when   the  gods   were  constructing 
their  abodes  and  had  already  finished  Midgard  and  Val- 


o34        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

halla,  a  certain  artificer  came  and  offered  to  build  them 
a  residence  so  well  fortified  that  they  should  be  per- 
fectly safe  from  the  incursions  of  the  Frost  giants  and 
the  giants  of  the  mountains.  But  he  demanded  for  his 
reward  the  goddess  Freya,  together  with  the  sun  and 
moon.  The  gods  yielded  to  his  terms,  provided  he 
would  finish  the  whole  work  himself  without  any  one's 
assistance,  and  all  within  the  space  of  one  winter.  But 
if  anything  remained  unfinished  on  the  first  day  of  sum- 
mer he  should  forfeit  the  recompense  agreed  on.  On 
being  told  these  terms  the  artificer  stipulated  that  he 
should  be  allowed  the  use  of  his  horse  Svadilfari,  and 
this  by  the  advice  of  Loki  was  granted  to  him.  He  ac- 
cordingly set  to  work  on  the  first  day  of  winter,  and 
during  the  night  let  his  horse  draw  stone  for  the  build- 
ing. The  enormous  size  of  the  stones  struck  the  gods 
with  astonishment,  and  they  saw  clearly  that  the  horse 
did  one-half  more  of  the  toilsome  work  than  his  master. 
Their  bargain,  however,  had  been  concluded,  and  con- 
firmed by  solemn  oaths,  for  without  these  precautions 
a  giant  would  not  have  thought  himself  safe  among  the 
gods,  especially  when  Thor  should  return  from  an  ex- 
pedition he  had  then  undertaken  against  the  evil  demons. 

As  the  winter  drew  to  a  close,  the  building  was  far 
advanced,  and  the  bulwarks  were  sufficiently  high  and 
massive  to  render  the  place  impregnable.  In  short,  when 
it  wanted  but  three  days  to  summer,  the  only  part  that 
remained  to  be  finished  was  the  gateway.  Then  sat  the 
ftods  on  their  seats  of  justice  and  entered  into  consul- 
tation, inquiring  of  one  another  who  among  them  could 
have  advised  to  give  Freya  away,  or  to  plunge  the 
heavens  in  darkness  by  permitting  the  giant  to  carry 
away  the  sun  and  the  moon. 

They  all  agreed  that  no  one  but  Loki,  the  author  of 
so  many  evil  deeds,  could  have  given  such  bad  counsel, 
and  that  he  should  be  put  to  a  cruel  death  if  he  did  not 
contrive  some  way  to  prevent  the  artificer  from  com- 
pleting his  task  and  obtaining  the  stipulated  recom- 
pense. They  proceeded  to  lay  hands  on  Loki,  who  in 
his  fright  promised  upon  oath  that,  let  it  cost  him  what 
it  would,  he  would  so  manage  matters  that  the  man 


THE  RECOVERY  OF  THE  HAMMER      335 

should  lose  his  reward.  That  very  night  when  the  man 
went  with  Svadilfari  for  building  stone,  a  mare  suddenly 
ran  out  of  a  forest  and  began  to  neigh.  The  horse 
thereat  broke  loose  and  ran  after  the  mare  into  the 
forest,  which  obliged  the  man  also  to  run  after  his 
horse,  and  thus  between  one  and  another  the  whole  night 
was  lost,  so  that  at  dawn  the  work  had  not  made  the 
usual  progress.  The  man,  seeing  that  he  must  fail  of 
completing  his  task,  resumed  his  own  gigantic  stature, 
and  the  gods  now  clearly  perceived  that  it  was  in  reality 
a  mountain  giant  who  had  come  amongst  them.  Feeling 
no  longer  bound  by  their  oaths,  they  called  on  Thor, 
who  immediately  ran  to  their  assistance,  and  lifting  up 
his  mallet,  paid  the  workman  his  wages,  not  with  the 
sun  and  moon,  and  not  even  by  sending  him  back  to 
Jotunheim,  for  with  the  first  blow  he  shattered  the 
giant's  skull  to  pieces  and  hurled  him  headlong  into 
Niffleheim. 

THE  RECOVERY  OF  THE   HAMMER 

Once  upon  a  time  it  happened  that  Thor's  hammer 
fell  into  the  possession  of  the  giant  Thrym,  who  buried 
it  eight  fathoms  deep  under  the  rocks  of  Jotunheim. 
Thor  sent  Loki  to  negotiate  with  Thrym,  but  he  could 
only  prevail  so  far  as  to  get  the  giant's  promise  to  re- 
store the  weapon  if  Freya  would  consent  to  be  his  bride. 
Loki  returned  and  reported  the  result  of  his  mission, 
but  the  goddess  of  love  was  quite  horrified  at  the  idea 
of  bestowing  her  charms  on  the  king  of  the  Frost  giants. 
In  this  emergency  Loki  persuaded  Thor  to  dress  himself 
in  Freya's  clothes  and  accompany  him  to  Jotunheim. 
Thrym  received  his  veiled  bride  with  due  courtesy,  but 
was  greatly  surprised  at  seeing  her  eat  for  her  supper 
eight  salmons  and  a  full  grown  ox,  besides  other  deli- 
cacies, washing  the  whole  down  with  three  tuns  of 
mead.  Loki,  however,  assured  him  that  she  had  not 
tasted  anything  for  eight  long  nights,  so  great  was  her 
desire  to  see  her  lover,  the  renowned  ruler  of  Jotunheim. 
Thrym  had  at  length  the  curiosity  to  peep  under  his 
bride's  veil,  but  started  back  in  affright  and  demanded 


336       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

why  Freya's  eyeballs  glistened  \v5th  fire.  Loki  repeated 
the  same  excuse  and  the  giant  was  satisfied.  He  or- 
dered the  hammer  to  be  brought  in  and  laid  on  the 
maiden's  lap.  Thereupon  Thor  threw  off  his  disguise, 
grasped  his  redoubted  weapon,  and  slaughtered  Thrym 
and  all  his  followers. 

Frey  also  possessed  a  wonderful  weapon,  a  sword 
which  would  of  itself  spread  a  field  with  carnage  when- 
ever the  owner  desired  it.  Frey  parted  with  this  sword, 
but  was  less  fortunate  than  Thor  and  never  recovered 
it.  It  happened  in  this  way :  Frey  once  mounted  Odin's 
throne,  from  whence  one  can  see  over  the  whole  uni- 
verse, and  looking  round  saw  far  off  in  the  giant's  king- 
dom a  beautiful  maid,  at  the  sight  of  whom  he  was 
struck  with  sudden  sadness,  insomuch  that  from  that 
moment  he  could  neither  sleep,  nor  drink,  nor  speak. 
At  last  Skirnir,  his  messenger,  drew  his  secret  from  him, 
and  undertook  to  get  him  the  maiden  for  his  bride,  if 
he  would  give  him  his  sword  as  a  reward.  Frey  con- 
sented and  gave  him  the  sword,  and  Skirnir  set  off  on 
his  journey  and  obtained  the  maiden's  promise  that  with- 
in nine  nights  she  would  come  to  a  certain  place  and 
there  wed  Frey.  Skirnir  having  reported  the  success 
of  his  errand,  Frey  exclaimed: 

"Long  is  one  night, 
Long  are  two  nights, 
But  how  shall  I  hold  out  three? 
Shorter  hath  seemed 
A  month  to  me  oft 
Than  of  this  longing  time  the  half." 

So  Frey  obtained  Gerda,  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
women,  for  his  wife,  but  he  lost  his  sword. 

This  story,  entitled  "Skirnir  For,"  and  the  one  im- 
mediately preceding  it,  "Thrym's  Quida,"  will  be  found 
poetically  told  in  Longfellow's  "Poets  and  Poetry  of 
Europe." 


THOR'S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM          J37 

CHAPTER   XXXIX 
THOR'S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM 

THOR'S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM,  THE  GIANT'S  COUNTRY 

ONE  day  the  god  Thor,  with  his  servant  Thialfi,  and 
accompanied  by  Loki,  set  out  on  a  journey  to  the  giant's 
country.  Thialfi  was  of  all  men  the  swiftest  of  foot 
He  bore  Thor's  wallet,  containing  their  provisions. 
When  night  came  on  they  found  themselves  in  an  im- 
mense forest,  and  searched  on  all  sides  for  a  place  where 
they  might  pass  the  night,  and  at  last  came  to  a  very 
large  hall,  with  an  entrance  that  took  the  whole  breadth 
of  one  end  of  the  building.  Here  they  lay  down  to 
sleep,  but  towards  midnight  were  alarmed  by  an  earth- 
quake which  shook  the  whole  edifice.  Thor,  rising  up, 
called  on  his  companions  to  seek  with  him  a  place  of 
safety.  On  the  right  they  found  an  adjoining  chamber, 
into  which  the  others  entered,  but  Thor  remained  at 
the  doorway  with  his  mallet  in  his  hand,  prepared  to 
defend  himself,  whatever  might  happen.  A  terrible 
groaning  was  heard  during  the  night,  and  at  dawn  of 
day  Thor  went  out  and  found  lying  near  him  a  huge 
giant,  who  slept  and  snored  in  the  way  that  had  alarmed 
them  so.  It  is  said  that  for  once  Thor  was  afraid  to 
use  his  mallet,  and  as  the  giant  soon  waked  up,  Thor 
contented  himself  with  simply  asking  his  name. 

"My  name  is  Skrymir,"  said  the  giant,  "but  I  need 
not  ask  thy  name,  for  I  know  that  thou  art  the  god 
Thor.  But  what  has  become  of  my  glove  ?"  Thor  then 
perceived  that  what  they  had  taken  overnight  for  a 
hall  was  the  giant's  glove,  and  the  chamber  where  his 
two  companions  had  sought  refuge  was  the  thumb. 
Skrymir  then  proposed  that  they  should  travel  in  com- 
pany, and  Thor  consenting,  they  sat  down  to  eat  their 
breakfast,  and  when  they  had  done,  Skrymir  packed  all 
the  provisions  into  one  wallet,  threw  it  over  his  shoulder, 
and  strode  on  before  them,  taking  such  tremendous 


338       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

strides  that  they  were  hard  put  to  it  to  keep  up  with 
him.  So  they  travelled  the  whole  day,  and  at  dusk 
Skrymir  chose  a  place  for  them  to  pass  the  night  in 
under  a  large  oak  tree.  Skrymir  then  told  them  he 
would  lie  down  to  sleep.  "But  take  ye  the  wallet/'  he 
added,  "and  prepare  your  supper." 

Skrymir  soon  fell  asleep  and  began  to  snore  strongly; 
but  when  Thor  tried  to  open  the  wallet,  he  found  the 
giant  had  tied  it  up  so  tight  he  could  not  untie  a  single 
knot.  At  last  Thor  became  wroth,  and  grasping  his 
mallet  with  both  hands  he  struck  a  furious  blow  on  the 
giant's  head.  Skrymir,  awakening,  merely  asked  whether 
a  leaf  had  not  fallen  on  his  head,  and  whether  they 
had  supped  and  were  ready  to  go  to  sleep.  Thor  an- 
swered that  they  were  just  going  to  sleep,  and  so  saying 
went  and  laid  himself  down  under  another  tree.  But 
sleep  came  not  that  night  to  Thor,  and  when  Skrymir 
snored  again  so  loud  that  the  forest  reechoed  with  the 
noise,  he  arose,  and  grasping  his  mallet  launched  it 
with  such  force  at  the  giant's  skull  that  it  made  a  deep 
dint  in  it.  Skrymir,  awakening,  cried  out,  "What's  the 
matter?  Are  there  any  birds  perched  on  this  tree?  I 
felt  some  moss  from  the  branches  fall  on  my  head. 
How  fares  it  with  thee,  Thor?"  But  Thor  went  away 
hastily,  saying  that  he  had  just  then  awoke,  and  that  as 
it  was  only  midnight,  there  was  still  time  for  sleep. 
He,  however,  resolved  that  if  he  had  an  opportunity  of 
striking  a  third  blow,  it  should  settle  all  matters  between 
them.  A  little  before  daybreak  he  perceived  that  Skry- 
mir was  again  fast  asleep,  and  again  grasping  his  mal- 
let, he  dashed  it  with  such  violence  that  it  forced  its 
way  into  the  giant's  skull  up  to  the  handle.  But  Skrymir 
sat  up,  and  stroking  his  cheek  said,  "An  acorn  fell  on 
my  head.  What!  Art  thou  awake,  Thor?  Methinks 
it  is  time  for  us  to  get  up  and  dress  ourselves;  but  you 
have  not  now  a  long  way  before  you  to  the  city  called 
Utgard.  I  have  heard  you  whispering  to  one  another 
that  I  am  not  a  man  of  small  dimensions;  but  if  you 
come  to  Utgard  you  will  see  there  many  men  much 
taller  than  I.  Wherefore,  I  advise  you,  when  you  come 
there,  not  to  make  too  much  of  yourselves,  for  the 


THOR'S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM          339 

followers  of  Utgard-Loki  will  not  brook  the  boasting 
of  such  little  fellows  as  you  are.  You  must  take  the 
road  that  leads  eastward,  mine  lies  northward,  so  we 
must  part  here." 

Hereupon  he  threw  his  wallet  over  his  shoulders  and 
turned  away  from  them  into  the  forest,  and  Thor  had 
no  wish  to  stop  him  or  to  ask  for  any  more  of  his 
company. 

Thor  and  his  companions  proceeded  on  their  way,  and 
towards  noon  descried  a  city  standing  in  the  middle  of 
a  plain.  It  was  so  lofty  that  they  were  obliged  to  bend 
their  necks  quite  back  on  their  shoulders  in  order  to 
see  to  the  top  of  it.  On  arriving  they  entered  the  city, 
and  seeing  a  large  palace  before  them  with  the  door 
wide  open,  they  went  in,  and  found  a  number  of  men 
of  prodigious  stature,  sitting  on  benches  in  the  hall. 
Going  further,  they  came  before  the  king,  Utgard-Loki, 
whom  they  saluted  with  great  respect.  The  king,  re- 
garding them  with  a  scornful  smile,  said,  "If  I  do  not 
mistake  me,  that  stripling  yonder  must  be  the  god  Thor." 
Then  addressing  himself  to  Thor,  he  said,  "Perhaps 
thou  mayst  be  more  than  thou  appearest  to  be.  What 
are  the  feats  that  thou  and  thy  fellows  deem  yourselves 
skilled  in,  for  no  one  is  permitted  to  remain  here  who 
does  not,  in  some  feat  or  other,  excel  all  other  men?" 

"The  feat  that  I  know,"  said  Loki,  "is  to  eat  quicker 
than  any  one  else,  am1  in  this  I  am  ready  to  give  a 
proof  against  any  one  here  who  may  choose  to  com- 
pete with  me." 

"That  will  indeed  be  a  feat,"  said  Utgard-Loki,  "if 
thou  performest  what  thou  promisest,  and  it  shall  be 
tried  forthwith." 

He  then  ordered  one  of  his  men  who  was  sitting  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  bench,  and  whose  name  was 
Logi,  td  come  forward  and  try  his  skill  with  Loki.  A 
trough  filled  with  meat  having  been  set  on  the  hall 
floor,  Loki  placed  himself  at  one  end,  and  Logi  at  the 
other,  and  each  of  them  began  to  eat  as  fast  as  he  could, 
until  they  met  in  the  middle  of  the  trough.  But  it  was 
found  that  Loki  had  only  eaten  the  flesh,  while  his 
adversary  had  devoured  both  flesh  and  bone,  and  the 


340       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

trough  to  boot.  All  the  company  therefore  adjudged 
that  Loki  was  vanquished. 

Utgard-Loki  then  asked  what  feat  the  young  man 
who  accompanied  Thor  could  perform.  Thialfi  answered 
that  he  would  run  a  race  with  any  one  who  might  be 
matched  against  him.  The  king  observed  that  skil! 
in  running  was  something  to  boast  of,  but  if  the  youth 
would  win  the  match  he  must  display  great  agility.  He 
then  arose  and  went  with  all  who  were  present  to  a 
plain  where  there  was  good  ground  for  running  on,  and 
calling  a  young  man  named  Hugi,  bade  him  run  a  match 
with  Thialfi.  In  the  first  course  Hugi  so  much  out- 
stripped his  competitor  that  he  turned  back  and  met 
him  not  far  from  the  starting  place.  Then  they  ran  a 
second  and  a  third  time,  but  Thialfi  met  with  no  better 
success. 

Utgard-Loki  then  asked  Thor  in  what  feats  he  would 
choose  to  give  proofs  of  that  prowess  for  which  he 
was  so  famous.  Thor  answered  that  he  would  try  a 
drinking-match  with  any  one.  Utgard-Loki  bade  his 
cup-bearer  bring  the  large  horn  which  his  followers 
were  obliged  to  empty  when  they  had  trespassed  in  any 
way  against  the  law  of  the  feast.  The  cupbearer  having 
presented  it  to  Thor,  Utgard-Loki  said,  "Whoever  is 
a  good  drinker  will  empty  that  horn  at  a  single  draught, 
though  most  men  make  two  of  it,  but  the  most  puny 
drinker  can  do  it  in  three/* 

Thor  looked  at  the  horn,  which  seemed  of  no  ex- 
traordinary size  though  somewhat  long;  however,  as 
he  was  very  thirsty,  he  set  it  to  his  lips,  and  without 
drawing  breath,  pulled  as  long  and  as  deeply  as  he  could, 
that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  make  a  second  draught 
of  it;  but  when  he  set  the  horn  down  and  looked  in, 
he  could  scarcely  perceive  that  the  liquor  was  diminished. 

After  taking  breath,  Thor  went  to  it  again  with  all 
his  might,  but  when  he  took  the  horn  from  his  mouth, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  drunk  rather  less  than 
before,  although  the  horn  could  now  be  carried  without 
spilling. 

"How  now,  Thor?"  said  Utgard-Loki;  "thou  must 
not  spare  thv<;elf;  if  thou  meanest  to  drain  the  horn 


THOR'S  VISIT  TO  JOTUNHEIM          341 

at  the  third  draught  thou  must  pull  deeply;  and  I  must 
needs  say  that  thou  wilt  not  be  called  so  mighty  a  man 
here  as  thou  art  at  home  if  thou  showest  no  greater 
prowess  in  other  feats  than  methinks  will  be  shown  in 
this." 

Thor,  full  of  wrath,  again  set  the  horn  to  his  lips, 
and  did  his  best  to  empty  it;  but  on  looking  in  found 
the  liquor  was  only  a  little  lower,  so  he  resolved  to  make 
no  further  attempt,  but  gave  back  the  horn  to  the  cup- 
bearer. 

"I  now  see  plainly,"  said  Utgard-Loki,  "that  thou  art 
not  quite  so  stout  as  we  thought  thee:  but  wilt  thou 
try  any  other  feat,  though  methinks  thou  art  not  likely 
to  bear  any  prize  away  with  thee  hence." 

"What  new  trial  hast  thou  to  propose  ?"  said  Thor. 

"We  have  a  very  trifling  game  here,"  answered  Ut- 
gard-Loki, "in  which  we  exercise  none  but  children. 
It  consists  in  merely  lifting  my  cat  from  the  ground; 
nor  should  I  have  dared  to  mention  such  a  feat  to  the 
great  Thor  if  I  had  not  already  observed  that  thou  art 
by  no  means  what  we  took  thee  for." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  a  large  gray  cat  sprang  on 
the  hall  floor.  Thor  put  his  hand  under  the  cat's  belly 
and  did  his  utmost  to  raise  him  from  the  floor,  but  the 
cat,  bending  his  back,  had,  notwithstanding  all  Thor's 
efforts,  only  one  of  his  feet  lifted  up,  seeing  which 
Thor  made  no  further  attempt. 

"This  trial  has  turned  out,"  said  Utgard-Loki,  "just 
as  I  imagined  it  would.  The  cat  is  large,  but  Thor 
is  little  in  comparison  to  our  men." 

"Little  as  ye  call  me,"  answered  Thor,  "let  me  see 
who  among  you  will  come  hither  now  I  am  in  wrath 
and  wrestle  with  me." 

"I  see  no  one  here,"  said  Utgard-Loki,  looking  at  th? 
men  sitting  on  the  benches,  "who  would  not  think  it 
beneath  him  to  wrestle  with  thee;  let  somebody,  how- 
ever, call  hither  that  old  crone,  my  nurse  Elli,  and  let 
Thor  wrestle  with  her  if  he  will.  She  has  thrown  to 
the  ground  many  a  man  not  less  strong  than  this  Thor 

•>" 

A  toothless  old  woman  then  entered  the  hall,  and 


342       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

was  told  by  Utgard-Loki  to  take  hold  of  Thor.  The 
tale  is  shortly  told.  The  more  Thor  tightened  his  hold 
on  the  crone  the  firmer  she  stood.  At  length  after  a 
very  violent  struggle  Thor  began  to  lose  his  footing, 
and  was  finally  brought  down  upon  one  knee.  Utgard- 
Loki  then  told  them  to  desist,  adding  that  Thor  had 
now  no  occasion  to  ask  any  one  else  in  the  hall  to 
wrestle  with  him,  and  it  was  also  getting  late;  so  he 
showed  Thor  and  his  companions  to  their  seats,  and  they 
passed  the  night  there  in  good  cheer. 

The  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  Thor  and  his 
companions  dressed  themselves  and  prepared  for  their 
departure.  Utgard-Loki  ordered  a  table  to  be  set  for 
them,  on  which  there  was  no  lack  of  victuals  or  drink. 
After  the  repast  Utgard-Loki  led  them  to  the  gate  of 
the  city,  and  on  parting  asked  Thor  how  he  thought  his 
journey  had  turned  out,  and  whether  he  had  met  with 
any  men  stronger  than  himself.  Thor  told  him  that  he 
could  not  deny  but  that  he  had  brought  great  shame  on 
himself.  "And  what  grieves  me  most/'  he  added,  "is 
that  ye  will  call  me  a  person  of  little  worth/' 

"Nay,"  said  Utgard-Loki,  "it  behooves  me  to  tell  thee 
the  truth,  now  thou  art  out  of  the  city,  which  so  long 
as  I  live  and  have  my  way  thou  shalt  never  enter  again. 
And,  by  my  troth,  had  I  known  beforehand  that  thou 
hadst  so  much  strength  in  thee,  and  wouldst  have 
brought  me  so  near  to  a  great  mishap,  I  would  not  have 
suffered  thee  to  enter  this  time.  Know  then  that  I  have 
all  along  deceived  thee  by  my  illusions;  first  in  the 
forest,  where  I  tied  up  the  wallet  with  iron  wire  so 
that  thou  couldst  not  untie  it.  After  this  thou  gavest 
me  three  blows  with  thy  mallet;  the  first,  though  the 
least,  would  have  ended  my  days  had  it  fallen  on  me, 
but  I  slipped  aside  and  thy  blows  fell  on  the  mountain, 
where  thou  wilt  find  three  glens,  one  of  them  remark- 
ably deep.  These  are  the  dints  made  by  thy  mallet.  I 
have  made  use  of  similar  illusions  in  the  contests  you 
have  had  with  my  followers.  In  the  first,  Loki,  like 
hunger  itself,  devoured  all  that  was  set  before  him, 
but  Logi  was  in  reality  nothing  else  than  Fire,  and 
therefore  consumed  not  only  the  meat,  but  the  trough 


THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR  343 

which  held  it.  Hugi,  with  whom  Thialfi  contended  in 
running,  was  Thought,  and  it  was  impossible  for  Thialfi 
to  keep  pace  with  that.  When  thou  in  thy  turn  didst 
attempt  to  empty  the  horn,  thou  didst  perform,  by  my 
troth,  a  deed  so  marvellous  that  had  I  not  seen  it  my- 
self I  should  never  have  believed  it.  For  one  end  of  that 
horn  reached  the  sea,  which  thou  wast  not  aware  of,  but 
when  thou  comest  to  the  shore  thou  wilt  perceive  how 
much  the  sea  has  sunk  by  thy  draughts.  Thou  didst 
perform  a  feat  no  less  wonderful  by  lifting  up  the  cat, 
and  to  tell  thee  the  truth,  when  we  saw  that  one  of 
his  paws  was  off  the  floor,  we  were  all  of  us  terror- 
stricken,  for  what  thou  tookest  for  a  cat  was  in  reality 
the  Midgard  serpent  that  encompasseth  the  earth,  and 
he  was  so  stretched  by  thee  that  he  was  barely  long 
enough  to  enclose  it  between  his  head  and  tail.  Thy 
wrestling  with  Elli  was  also  a  most  astonishing  feat, 
for  there  was  never  yet  a  man,  nor  ever  will  be,  whom 
Old  Age,  for  such  in  fact  was  Elli,  will  not  sooner  or 
later  lay  low.  But  now,  as  we  are  going  to  part,  let 
me  tell  thee  that  it  will  be  better  for  both  of  us  if  thou 
never  come  near  me  again,  for  shouldst  thou  do  so,  I 
shall  again  defend  myself  by  other  illusions,  so  that 
thou  wilt  only  lose  thy  labor  and  get  no  fame  from 
the  contest  with  me." 

On  hearing  these  words  Thor  in  a  rage  laid  hold  of 
his  mallet  and  would  have  launched  it  at  him,  but 
Utgard-Loki  had  disappeared,  and  when  Thor  would 
have  returned  to  the  city  to  destroy  it,  he  found  noth- 
ing around  him  but  a  verdant  plain. 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE    DEATH    OF    BALDUR THE    ELVES — RUNIC    LETTERS  — 

ICELAND — TEUTONIC     MYTHOLOGY NIBELUNGEN     LIED 

THE    DEATH    OF    BALDUR 

BALDUR  the  Good,  having  been  tormented  with  ter- 
rible dreams  indicating  that  his  life  was  in  peril,  told 


344       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

them  to  the  assembled  gods,  who  resolved  to  conjure  all 
things  to  avert  from  him  the  threatened  danger.  Then 
Frigga,  the  wife  of  Odin,  exacted  an  oath  from  fire 
and  water,  from  iron  and  all  other  metals,  from  stones, 
trees,  diseases,  beasts,  birds,  poisons,  and  creeping  things, 
that  none  of  them  would  do  any  harm  to  Baldur.  Odin, 
not  satisfied  with  all  this,  and  feeling  alarmed  for  the 
fate  of  his  son,  determined  to  consult  the  prophetess 
Angerbode,  a  giantess,  mother  of  Fenris,  Hela,  and  the 
Midgard  serpent.  She  was  dead,  and  Odin  was  forced 
to  seek  her  in  Hela's  dominions.  This  Descent  of  Odin 
forms  the  subject  of  Gray's  fine  ode  beginning, — 

"Uprose  the  king  of  men  with  speed 
And  saddled  straight  his  coal-black  steed." 

But  the  other  gods,  feeling  that  what  Frigga  had 
done  was  quite  sufficient,  amused  themselves  with  using 
Baldur  as  a  mark,  some  hurling  darts  at  him,  some 
stones,  while  others  hewed  at  him  with  their  swords 
and  battle-axes;  for  do  what  they  would,  none  of  them 
could  harm  him.  And  this  became  a  favorite  pastime 
with  them  and  was  regarded  as  an  honor  shown  to 
Baldur.  But  when  Loki  beheld  the  scene  he  was  sorely 
vexed  that  Baldur  was  not  hurt.  Assuming,  therefore, 
the  shape  of  a  woman,  he  went  to  Fensalir,  the  man- 
sion of  Frigga.  That  goddess,  when  she  saw  the  pre- 
tended woman,  inquired  of  her  if  she  knew  what  the 
gods  were  doing  at  their  meetings.  She  replied  that 
they  were  throwing  darts  and  stones  at  Baldur,  with- 
out being  able  to  hurt  him.  "Ay,"  said  Frigga,  "neither 
stones,  nor  sticks,  nor  anything  else  can  hurt  Baldur, 
for  I  have  exacted  an  oath  from  all  of  them."  "What," 
exclaimed  the  woman,  "have  all  things  sworn  to  spare 
Baldur?"  "All  things,"  replied  Frigga,  "except  one  lit- 
tle shrub  that  grows  on  the  eastern  side  of  Valhalla, 
and  is  called  Mistletoe,  and  which  I  thought  too  young 
and  feeble  to  crave  an  oath  from." 

As  soon  as  Loki  heard  this  he  went  away,  and  re- 
suming his  natural  shape,  cut  off  the  mistletoe,  and  re- 
paired to  the  place  where  the  gods  were  assembled. 
There  he  found  Hodur  standing  apart,  without  partak- 


THE  DEATH  OF  BALDUR  345 

ing  of  the  sports,  on  account  of  his  blindness,  and  going 
up  to  him,  said,  "Why  dost  thou  not  also  throw  some- 
thing at  Baldur?"  • 

''Because  I  am  blind,"  answered  Hodur,  "and  see 
not  where  Baldur  is,  and  have,  moreover,  nothing  to 
throw." 

"Come,  then,"  said  Loki,  "do  like  the  rest,  and  show 
honor  to  Baldur  by  throwing  this  twig  at  him,  and  I 
will  direct  thy  arm  towards  the  place  where  he  stands." 

Hodur  then  took  the  mistletoe,  and  under  the  guid- 
ance of  Loki,  darted  it  at  Baldur,  who,  pierced  through 
and  through,  fell  down  lifeless.  Surely  never  was  there 
witnessed,  either  among  gods  or  men,  a  more  atrocious 
deed  than  this.  When  Baldur  fell,  the  gods  were  struck 
speechless  with  horror,  and  then  they  looked  at  each 
other,  and  all  were  of  one  mind  to  lay  hands  on  him 
who  had  done  the  deed,  but  they  were  obliged  to  delay 
their  vengeance  out  of  respect  for  the  sacred  place  where 
they  were  assembled.  They  gave  vent  to  their  grief  by 
loud  lamentations.  When  the  gods  came  to  themselves, 
Frigga  asked  who  among  them  wished  to  gain  all  her 
love  and  good  will.  "For  this,"  said  she,  "sha"'  he  have 
who  will  ride  to  Hel  and  offer  Hela  a  ransom  if  she 
will  let  Baldur  return  to  Asgard."  Whereupon  Hermod, 
surnamed  the  Nimble,  the  son  of  Odin,  offered  to  un- 
dertake the  journey.  Odin's  horse,  Sleipnir,  which  has 
eight  legs  and  can  outrun  the  wind,  was  then  led  forth, 
on  which  Hermod  mounted  and  galloped  away  on  his 
mission.  For  the  space  of  nine  days  and  as  many  nights 
he  rode  through  deep  glens  so  dark  that  he  could  not 
discern  anything,  until  he  arrived  at  the  river  Gyoll, 
which  he  passed  over  on  a  bridge  covered  with  glit- 
tering gold.  The  maiden  who  kept  the  bridge  asked  him 
his  name  and  lineage,  telling  him  that  the  day  before 
five  bands  of  dead  persons  had  ridden  over  the  bridge, 
and  did  not  shake  it  as  much  as  he  alone.  "But,"  she 
added,  "thou  hast  not  death's  hue  on  thee;  why  then 
ridest  thou  here  on  the  way  to  Hel?" 

"I  ride  to  Hel,"  answered  Hermod,  "to  seek  Baldur, 
Hast  thou  perchance  seen  him  pass  this  way?" 

She  replied,  "Baldur  hath  ridden  over  Gyoll's  bridge, 


346       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

and  yonder  lieth  the  way  he  took  to  the  abodes  of 
death." 

Hermod  pursued  his  journey  until  he  came  to  the 
barred  gates  of  Hel.  Here  he  alighted,  girthed  his  sad- 
dle tighter,  and  remounting  clapped  both  spurs  to  his 
horse,  who  cleared  the  gate  by  a  tremendous  leap  with- 
out touching  it.  Hermod  then  rode  on  to  the  palace, 
where  he  found  his  brother  Baldur  occupying  the  most 
distinguished  seat  in  the  hall,  and  passed  the  night  in 
his  company.  The  next  morning  he  besought  Hela  to  let 
Baldur  ride  home  with  him,  assuring  her  that  nothing 
but  lamentations  were  to  be  heard  among  the  gods. 
Hela  answered  that  it  should  now  be  tried  whether 
Baldur  was  so  beloved  as  he  was  said  to  be.  "If, 
therefore,"  she  added,  "all  things  in  the  world,  both  liv- 
ing and  lifeless,  weep  for  him,  then  shall  he  return  to 
life;  but  if  any  one  thing  speak  against  him  or  refuse 
to  weep,  he  shall  be  kept  in  Hel." 

Hermod  then  rode  back  to  Asgard  and  gave  an  ac- 
count of  all  he  had  heard  and  witnessed. 

The  gods  upon  this  despatched  messengers  through- 
out the  world  to  beg  everything  to  weep  in  order  that 
Baldur  might  be  delivered  from  Hel.  All  things  very 
willingly  complied  with  this  request,  both  men  and  every 
other  living  being,  as  well  as  earths,  and  stones,  and 
trees,  and  metals,  just  as  we  have  all  seen  these  things 
weep  when  they  are  brought  from  a  cold  place  into  a 
hot  one.  As  the  messengers  were  returning,  they  found 
an  old  hag  named  Thaukt  sitting  in  a  cavern,  and  begged 
her  to  weep  Baldur  out  of  Hel.  But  she  answered, 

"Thaukt   will    wail 
With  dry  tears 
Baldur's  bale-fire. 
Let  Hela  keep  her  own." 

It  was  strongly  suspected  that  this  hag  was  no  other 
t?ian  Loki  himself,  who  never  ceased  to  work  evil  among 
pods  and  men.  So  Baldur  was  prevented  from  coming 
back  to  Asgard.1 


upo: 


1  In  Longfellow's  Poems  will  be  found  a  poem  entitled  "Tegner's  Drapa," 
m   the   subject  of   Baldur's  death. 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  BALDUR  347 


THE  FUNERAL  OF  BALDUR 

The  gods  took  up  the  dead  body  and  bore  it  to  the 
seashore  where  stood  Baldur's  ship  "Hringham,"  which 
passed  for  the  largest  in  the  world.  Baldur's  dead  body 
was  put  on  the  funeral  pile,  on  board  the  ship,  and  his 
wife  Nanna  was  so  struck  with  grief  at  the  sight  that 
she  broke  her  heart,  and  her  body  was  burned  on  the 
same  pile  as  her  husband's.  There  was  a  vast  concourse 
of  various  kinds  of  people  at  Baldur's  obsequies.  First 
came  Odin  accompanied  by  Frigga,  the  Valkyrie,  and 
his  ravens;  then  Frey  in  his  car  drawn  by  Gullinbursti, 
the  boar;  Heimdall  rode  his  horse  Gulltopp,  and  Freya 
drove  in  her  chariot  drawn  by  cats.  There  were  also  a 
great  many  Frost  giants  and  giants  of  the  mountain 
present.  Baldur's  horse  was  led  to  the  pile  fully  ca- 
parisoned and  consumed  in  the  same  flames  with  his 
master. 

But  Loki  did  not  escape  his  deserved  punishment. 
When  he  saw  how  angry  the  gods  were,  he  fled  to  the 
mountain,  and  there  built  himself  a  hut  with  four  doors, 
so  that  he  could  see  every  approaching  danger.  He  in- 
vented a  net  to  catch  the  fishes,  such  as  fishermen  have 
used  since  his  time.  But  Odin  found  out  his  hiding- 
place  and  the  gods  assembled  to  take  him.  He,  seeing 
this,  changed  himself  into  a  salmon,  and  lay  hid  among 
the  stones  of  the  brook.  But  the  gods  took  his  net 
and  dragged  the  brook,  and  Loki,  finding  he  must  be 
caught,  tried  to  leap  over  the  net;  but  Thor  caught  him 
by  the  tail  and  compressed  it,  so  that  salmons  ever  since 
have  had  that  part  remarkably  fine  and  thin.  They  bound 
him  with  chains  and  suspended  a  serpent  over  his  head, 
whose  venom  falls  upon  his  face  drop  by  drop.  His 
wife  Siguna  sits  by  his  side  and  catches  the  drops  as 
they  fall,  in  a  cup;  but  when  she  carries  it  away  to 
empty  it,  the  venom  falls  upon  Loki,  which  makes  him 
howl  with  horror,  and  twist  his  body  about  so  violently 
that  the  whole  earth  shakes,  and  this  produces  what  men 
call  earthquakes. 


348        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 


THE  ELVES 

The  Edda  mentions  another  class  of  beings,  inferior 
to  the  gods,  but  still  possessed  of  great  power;  these 
were  called  Elves.  The  white  spirits,  or  Elves  of 
Light,  were  exceedingly  fair,  more  brilliant  than  the 
sun,  and  clad  in  garments  of  a  delicate  and  transparent 
texture.  They  loved  the  light,  were  kindly  disposed  to 
mankind,  and  generally  appeared  as  fair  and  lovely  chil- 
dren. Their  country  was  called  Alfheim,  and  was  the 
domain  of  Freyr,  the  god  of  the  sun,  in  whose  light 
they  were  always  sporting. 

The  Black  or  Night  Elves  were  a  different  kind  of 
creatures.  Ugly,  long-nosed  dwarfs,  of  a  dirty  brown 
color,  they  appeared  only  at  night,  for  they  avoided  the 
sun  as  their  most  deadly  enemy,  because  whenever  his 
beams  fell  upon  any  of  them  they  changed  them  imme- 
diately into  stones.  Their  language  was  the  echo  of 
solitudes,  and  their  dwelling-places  subterranean  caves 
and  clefts.  They  were  supposed  to  have  come  into  ex- 
istence as  maggots  produced  by  the  decaying  flesh  of 
Ymir's  body,  and  were  afterwards  endowed  by  the  gods 
with  a  human  form  and  great  understanding.  They 
were  particularly  distinguished  for  a  knowledge  of  the 
mysterious  powers  of  nature,  and  for  the  runes  which 
they  carved  and  explained.  They  were  the  most  skilful 
artificers  of  all  created  beings,  and  worked  in  metals  and 
in  wood.  Among  their  most  noted  works  were  Thor's 
hammer,  and  the  ship  "Skidbladnir,"  which  they  gave 
to  Freyr,  and  which  was  so  large  that  it  could  contain 
all  the  deities  with  their  war  and  household  implements 
but  so  skillfully  was  it  wrought  that  when  folded  to- 
gether it  could  be  put  into  a  side  pocket. 

RAGNAROK,  THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  GODS 

It  was  a  firm  belief  of  the  northern  nations  that  a  time 
would  come  when  all  the  visible  creation,  the  gods  of 
Valhalla  and  Niffleheim,  the  inhabitants  of  Jotunheim, 
Alfheim,  and  Midgard,  together  with  their  habitations, 
would  be  destroyed.  The  fearful  day  of  destruction 


RAGNAROK  349 

will  not,  however,  be  without  its  forerunners.  First 
will  come  a  triple  winter,  during  which  snow  will  fall 
from  the  four  corners  of  the  heavens,  the  frost  be  very 
severe,  the  wind  piercing,  the  weather  tempestuous,  and 
the  sun  impart  no  gladness.  Three  such  winters  will 
pass  away  without  being  tempered  by  a  single  summer. 
Three  other  similar  winters  will  then  follow,  during 
which  war  and  discord  will  spread  over  the  universe. 
The  earth  itself  will  be  frightened  and  begin  to  tremble, 
the  sea  leave  its  basin,  the  heavens  tear  asunder,  and 
men  perish  in  great  numbers,  and  the  eagles  of  the  air 
feast  upon  their  still  quivering  bodies.  The  wolf  Fenris 
will  now  break  his  bands,  the  Midgard  serpent  rise  out 
of  her  bed  in  the  sea,  and  Loki,  released  from  his  bonds, 
will  join  the  enemies  of  the  gods.  Amidst  the  general 
devastation  the  sons  of  Muspelheim  will  rush  forth  un- 
der their  leader  Surtur,  before  and  behind  whom  are 
flames  and  burning  fire.  Onward  they  ride  over  Bifrost, 
the  rainbow  bridge,  which  breaks  under  the  horses' 
hoofs.  But  they,  disregarding  its  fall,  direct  their 
course  to  the  battlefield  called  Vigrid.  Thither  also  re- 
pair the  wolf  Fenris,  the  Midgard  serpent,  Loki  with 
all  the  followers  of  Hela,  and  the  Frost  giants. 

Heimdall  now  stands  up  and  sounds  the  Giallar  horn 
to  assemble  the  gods  and  heroes  for  the  contest.  The 
gods  advance,  led  on  by  Odin,  who  engages  the  wolf 
Fenris,  but  falls  a  victim  to  the  monster,  who  is,  how- 
ever, slain  by  Vidar,  Odin's  son.  Thor  gains  great  re- 
nown by  killing  the  Midgard  serpent,  but  recoils  and 
falls  dead,  suffocated  with  the  venom  which  the  dying 
monster  vomits  over  him.  Loki  and  Heimdall  meet 
and  fight  till  they  are  both  slain.  The  gods  and  their 
enemies  having  fallen  in  battle,  Surtur,  who  has  killed 
Freyr,  darts  fire  and  flames  over  the  world,  and  the 
whole  universe  is  burned  up.  The  sun  becomes  dim, 
the  earth  sinks  into  the  ocean,  the  stars  fall  from  heaven, 
and  time  is  no  more. 

After  this  Alfadur  (the  Almighty)  will  cause  a  new 
heaven  and  a  new  earth  to  arise  out  of  the  sea.  The 
new  earth  filled  with  abundant  supplies  will  spontane- 
ously produce  its  fruits  without  labor  or  care.  Wicked- 


350        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

ness  and  misery  will  no  more  be  known,  but  the  gods 
and  men  will  live  happily  together. 

RUNIC   LETTERS 

One  cannot  travel  far  in  Denmark,  Norway,  or 
Sweden  without  meeting  with  great  stones  of  different 
forms,  engraven  with  characters  called  Runic,  which 
appear  at  first  sight  very  different  from  all  we  know. 
The  letters  consist  almost  invariably  of  straight  lines, 
in  the  shape  of  little  sticks  either  singly  or  put  together. 
Such  sticks  were  in  early  times  used  by  the  northern 
nations  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  future  events. 
The  sticks  were  shaken  up,  and  from  the  figures  that 
they  formed  a  kind  of  divination  was  derived. 

The  Runic  characters  were  of  various  kinds.  They 
were  chiefly  used  for  magical  purposes.  The  noxious, 
or,  as  they  called  them,  the  bitter  runes,  were  em- 
ployed to  bring  various  evils  on  their  enemies ;  the  favor- 
able averted  misfortune.  Some  were  medicinal,  others 
employed  to  win  love,  etc.  In  later  times  they  were 
frequently  used  for  inscriptions,  of  which  more  than  a 
thousand  have  been  found.  The  language  is  a  dialect  of 
the  Gothic,  called  Norse,  still  in  use  in  Iceland.  The 
inscriptions  may  therefore  be  read  with  certainty,  but 
hitherto  very  few  have  been  found  which  throw  the 
least  light  on  history.  They  are  mostly  epitaphs  on 
tombstones. 

Gray's  ode  on  the  "Descent  of  Odin"  contains  an  al- 
lusion to  the  use  of  Runic  letters  for  incantation : 

"Facing  to  the  northern  clime, 
Thrice  he  traced  the  Runic  rhyme ; 
Thrice  pronounced,  in  accents  dread, 
The  thrilling  verse  that  wakes  the  dead, 
Till  from  out  the  hollow  ground 
Slowly  breathed  a  sullen  sound." 

THE   SKALDS 

The  Skalds  were  the  bards  and  poets  of  the  nation, 
a  very  important  class  of  men  in  all  communities  in  an 
early  stage  of  civilization.  They  are  the  depositaries  &f 


TEUTONIC  MYTHOLOGY  351 

whatever  historic  lore  there  is,  and  it  is  their  office  to 
mingle  something  of  intellectual  gratification  with  the 
rude  feasts  of  the  warriors,  by  rehearsing,  with  such 
accompaniments  of  poetry  and  music  as  their  skill  can 
afford,  the  exploits  of  their  heroes  living  or  dead.  The 
compositions  of  the  Skalds  were  called  Sagas,  many  of 
which  have  come  down  to  us,  and  contain  valuable  ma- 
terials of  history,  and  a  faithful  picture  of  the  state  of 
society  at  the  time  to  which  they  relate. 

ICELAND 

The  Eddas  and  Sagas  have  come  to  us  from  Iceland. 
The  following  extract  from  Carlyle's  lectures  on  "Heroes 
and  Hero  Worship"  gives  an  animated  account  of  the 
region  where  the  strange  stories  we  have  been  reading 
had  their  origin.  Let  the  reader  contrast  it  for  a  mo- 
ment with  Greece,  the  parent  of  classical  mythology : 

"In  that  strange  island,  Iceland, — burst  up,  the  geolo- 
gists say,  by  fire  from  the  bottom  of  the  s^a,  a  wild  land 
of  barrenness  and  lava,  swallowed  many  months  of  every 
year  in  black  tempests,  yet  with  a  wild,  gleaming  beauty 
in  summer  time,  towering  up  there  stern  and  grim  in 
the  North  Ocean,  with  its  snow  yokuls  [mountains], 
roaring  geysers  [boiling  springs],  sulphur  pools,  and 
horrid  volcanic  chasms,  like  the  waste,  chaotic  battle- 
field of  Frost  and  Fire, — where,  of  all  places,  we  least 
looked  for  literature  or  written  memorials, — the  record 
of  these  things  was  written  down.  On  the  seaboard  of 
this  wild  land  is  a  rim  of  grassy  country,  where  cattle 
can  subsist,  and  men  by  means  of  them  and  of  what  the 
sea  yields;  and  it  seems  they  were  poetic  men  these, 
men  who  had  deep  thoughts  in  them  and  uttered  music- 
ally their  thoughts.  Much  would  be  lost  had  Ice- 
land not  been  burst  up  from  the  sea,  not  been  discovered 
by  the  Northmen !" 

TEUTONIC    MYTHOLOGY 

In  the  mythology  of  Germany  proper,  the  name  of 
Odin  appears  as  Wotan ;  Freya  and  Frigga  are  regarded 
as  one  and  the  same  divinity,  and  the  gods  are  in  general 


352       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

represented  as  less  warlike  in  character  than  those  in 
the  Scandinavian  myths.  As  a  whole,  however,  Teu- 
tonic mythology  runs  along  almost  identical  lines 
with  that  of  the  northern  nations.  The  most  notable 
divergence  is  due  to  modifications  of  the  legends  by 
reason  of  the  difference  in  climatic  conditions.  The 
more  advanced  social  condition  of  the  Germans  is  also 
apparent  in  their  mythology. 

THE  NIBELUNGEN  LIED 

One  of  the  oldest  myths  of  the  Teutonic  race  is  found 
in  the  great  national  epic  of  the  Nibelungen  Lied,  which 
dates  back  to  the  prehistoric  era  when  Wotan,  Frigga, 
Thor,  Loki,  and  the  other  gods  and  goddesses  were 
worshipped  in  the  German  forests.  The  epic  is  divided 
into  two  parts,  the  first  of  which  tells  how  Siegfried, 
the  youngest  of  the  kings  of  the  Netherlands,  went  to 
Worms,  to  ask  in  marriage  the  hand  of  Kriemhild,  sister 
of  Giinther,  King  of  Burgundy.  While  he  was  staying 
with  Giinther,  Siegfried  helped  the  Burgundian  king  to 
secure  as  his  wife  Brunhild,  queen  of  Issland.  The 
Litter  had  announced  publicly  that  he  only  should  be  her 
husband  who  could  beat  her  in  hurling  a  spear,  throwing 
a  huge  stone,  and  in  leaping.  Siegfried,  who  possessed 
a  cloak  of  invisibility,  aided  Giinther  in  these  three  con- 
tests, and  Brunhild  became  his  wife.  In  return  for  these 
services,  Giinther  gave  Siegfried  his  sister  Kriemhild  in 
marriage. 

After  some  time  had  elapsed,  Siegfried  and  Kriem- 
liild  went  to  visit  Gunther,  when  the  two  women  fell  into 
n  dispute  about  the  relative  merits  of  their  husbands. 
Kriemhild,  to  exalt  Siegfried,  boasted  that  it  was  to  the 
latter  that  Gunther  owed  his  victories  and  his  wife. 
Brunhild,  in  great  anger,  employed  Hagan,  liegeman  of 
Gunther,  to  murder  Siegfried.  In  the  epic  Hagan  is  de- 
scribed as  follows: 

"Well-grown  and  well-compacted  was  that  redoubted  guest; 
Long  were  his  legs  and  sinewy,  and  deep  and  broad  his  chest; 
His  hair,  that  once  was  sable,  with  gray  was  dashed  of  late; 
Most  terrible  his  visage,  and  lordly  was  his  gait." 

— Nibelungen  Lied,  stanza  1789. 


THE  NIBELUNGEN  HOARD  35^ 

This  Achilles  of  German  romance  stabbed  Siegfried 
between  the  shoulders,  as  the  unfortunate  King  of  the 
Netherlands  was  stooping  to  drink  from  a  brook  during 
a  hunting  expedition. 

The  second  part  of  the  epic  relates  how,  thirteen  years 
later,  Kriemhild  married  Etzel,  King  of  the  Huns. 
After  a  time,  she  invited  the  King  of  Burgundy,  with 
Hagan  and  many  others,  to  the  court  of  her  husband. 
A  fearful  quarrel  was  stirred  up  in  the  banquet  hall, 
which  ended  in  the  slaughter  of  all  the  Burgundians  but 
Gunther  and  Hagan.  These  two  were  taken  prisoners 
and  given  to  Kriemhild,  who  with  her  own  hand  cut  off 
the  heads  of  both.  For  this  bloody  act  of  vengeance 
Kriemhild  was  herself  slain  by  Hildebrand,  a  magician 
and  champion,  who  in  German  mythology  holds  a  place 
to  an  extent  corresponding  to  that  of  Nestor  in  the 
Greek  mythology. 

THE   NIBELUNGEN    HOARD 

This  was  a  mythical  mass  of  gold  and  precious  stones 
which  Siegfried  obtained  from  the  Nibelungs,  the  people 
of  the  north  whom  he  had  conquered  and  whose  country 
he  had  made  tributary  to  his  own  kingdom  of  the  Nether- 
lands. Upon  his  marriage,  Siegfried  gave  the  treasure 
to  Kriemhild  as  her  wedding  portion.  After  the  murder 
of  Siegfried,  Hagan  seized  it  and  buried  it  secretly  be- 
neath the  Rhine  at  Lochham,  intending  to  recover  it  at 
a  future  period.  The  hoard  was  lost  forever  when 
Hagan  was  killed  by  Kriemhild.  Its  wonders  are  thus 
set  forth  in  the  poem : 

"  'Twas  as  much  as  twelve  huge  wagons  in  four  whole  nights 

and  days 

Could  carry  from  the  mountain  down  to  the  salt  sea  bay; 
Though  to  and  fro  each  wagon  thrice  journeyed  every  day. 

"It  was  made  up  of  nothing  but  precious  stones  and  gold; 
Were  all  the  world  bought  from  it,  and  down  the  value  told, 
Not  a  mark  the  less  would  there  be  left  than  erst  there  was,  I 
ween." 

—Nibelungen  Lied.  XTX. 


,554   STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Whoever  possessed  the  Nibelungen  hoard  were 
termed  Nibelungers.  Thus  at  one  time  certain  people 
of  Norway  were  so  called.  When  Siegfried  held  the 
treasure  he  received  the  title  "King  of  the  Nibelungers." 

WAGNER'S  NIBELUNGEN  RING 

Though  Richard  Wagner's  music-drama  of  the  Nibe- 
lungen Ring  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  ancient  Ger- 
man epic,  it  is  a  wholly  independent  composition  and 
was  derived  from  various  old  songs  and  sagas,  which 
the  dramatist  wove  into  one  great  harmonious  story. 
The  principal  source  was  the  Volsunga  Saga,  while 
lesser  parts  were  taken  from  the  Elder  Edda  and  the 
Younger  Edcla,  and  others  from  the  Nibelungen  Lied, 
the  Ecklenlied,  and  other  Teutonic  folklore. 

In  the  drama  there  are  at  first  only  four  distinct  races, 
— the  gods,  the  giants,  the  dwarfs,  and  the  nymphs. 
Later,  by  a  special  creation,  there  come  the  valkyrie  and 
the  heroes.  The  gods  are  the  noblest  and  highest  race, 
and  dwell  first  in  the  mountain  meadows,  later  in  the 
palace  of  Valhalla  on  the  heights.  The  giants  are  a 
great  and  strong  race,  but  lack  wisdom ;  they  hate  what 
is  noble,  and  are  enemies  of  the  gods ;  they  dwell  in  caves 
near  the  earth's  surface.  The  dwarfs,  or  nibelungs,  are 
Mack  uncouth  pigmies,  hating  the  good,  hating  the  gods; 
they  are  crafty  and  cunning,  and  dwell  in  the  bowels  of 
the  earth.  The  nymphs  are  pure,  innocent  creatures  of 
the  water.  The  valkyrie  are  daughters  of  the  gods,  but 
mingled  with  a  mortal  strain;  they  gather  dead  heroes 
from  the  battle-fields  and  carry  them  to  Valhalla.  The 
heroes  are  children  of  the  gods,  but  also  mingled  with 
a  mortal  strain;  they  are  destined  to  become  at  last  the 
highest  race  of  all,  and  to  succeed  the  gods  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world. 

The  principal  gods  are  Wotan,  Loki,  Donncr,  and 
Froh.  The  chief  giants  are  Fafner  and  Fasolt,  brothers. 
The  chief  dwarfs  are  Alberich  and  Mime,  brothers,  and 
later  Hagan,  son  of  Alberich.  The  chief  nymphs  are 
the  Rhine-daughters,  Flosshilda,  Woglinda,  and  Well- 
gunda.  There  are  nine  Valkyrie,  of  whom  Brunhild 
is  the  leading  one. 


WAGNER'S  NIBELUNGEN  RING          355 

Wagner's  story  of  the  Ring  may  be  summarized  as 
follows : 

A  hoard  of  gold  exists  in  the  depths  of  the  Rhine, 
guarded  by  the  innocent  Rhine-maidens.  Alberich,  the 
dwarf,  forswears  love  to  gain  this  gold.  He  makes  it 
into  a  magic  ring.  It  gives  him  all  power,  and  he  gathers 
by  it  a  vast  amount  of  treasures. 

Meanwhile  Wotan,  chief  of  the  gods,  has  engaged  the 
giants  to  build  for  him  a  noble  castle,  Valhalla,  from 
whence  to  rule  the  world,  promising  in  payment  Freya, 
goddess  of  youth  and  love.  But  the  gods  find  they  cannot 
spare  Freya,  as  they  are  dependent  on  her  for  their  im- 
mortal youth.  Loki,  called  upon  to  provide  a  substitute, 
tells  of  Alberich's  magic  ring  and  other  treasure.  Wotan 
goes  with  Loki,  and  they  steal  the  ring  and  the  golden 
hoard  from  Alberich,  who  curses  the  ring  and  lays  the 
curse  on  all  who  shall  henceforth  possess  it.  The  gods 
give  the  ring  and  the  treasure  to  the  giants  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  Freya.  The  curse  at  once  begins.  One  giant, 
Fafner,  kills  his  brother  to  get  all,  and  transforms  him- 
self into  a  dragon  to  guard  his  wealth.  The  gods  enter 
Valhalla  over  the  rainbow  bridge.  This  ends  the  first 
part  of  the  drama,  called  the  Rhine-Gold. 

The  second  part,  the  Valkyrie,  relates  how  Wotan  still 
covets  the  ring.  He  cannot  take  it  himself,  for  he  has 
given  his  word  to  the  giants.  He  stands  or  falls  by  his 
word.  So  he  devises  an  artifice  to  get  the  ring.  He 
will  get  a  hero-race  to  work  for  him  and  recover  the 
ring  and  the  treasures.  Siegmund  and  Sieglinda  are 
twin  children  of  this  new  race.  Sieglinda  is  carried  oil 
as  a  child  and  is  forced  into  marriage  with  Hunding. 
Siegmund  comes,  and  unknowingly  breaks  the  law  of 
marriage,  but  wins  Nothung,  the  great  sword, 
and  a  bride.  Brunhild,  chief  of  the  Valkyrie,  is  com- 
missioned by  Wotan  at  the  instance  of  Fricka,  god- 
dess of  marriage,  to  slay  him  for  his  sin.  She  disobeys 
and  tries  to  save  him,  but  Hunding,  helped  by  Wotan, 
slays  him.  Sieglinda,  however,  about  to  bear  the  free 
hero,  to  be  called  Siegfried,  is  saved  by  Brunhild,  and 
hid  in  the  forest.  Brunhild  herself  is  punished  by 
being  made  a  mortal  woman.  She  is  left  sleeping  on  the 


356       STORIES   OF  GODS  AND   HEROES 

mountains  with  a  wall  of  fire  around  her  which  only  a 
hero  can  penetrate. 

The  drama  continues  with  the  story  of  Siegfried, 
which  opens  with  a  scene  in  the  smithy  between  Mime 
the  dwarf  and  Siegfried.  Mime  is  welding  a  sword, 
and  Siegfried  scorns  him.  Mime  tells  him  something  of 
his  mother,  Sieglinda,  and  shows  him  the  broken  pieces 
of  his  father's  sword.  Wotan  comes  and  tells  Mime  that 
only  one  who  has  no  fear  can  remake  the  sword.  Now 
Siegfried  knows  no  fear  and  soon  remakes  the  sword 
Nothung.  Wotan  and  Alberich  come  to  where  the 
dragon  Fafner  is  guarding  the  ring.  They  both  long  for 
it,  but  neither  can  take  it.  Soon  Mime  comes  bringing 
Siegfried  with  the  mighty  sword.  Fafner  comes  out,  but 
Siegfried  slays  him.  Happening  to  touch  his  lips  with 
the  dragon's  blood,  he  understands  the  language  of  the 
birds.  They  tell  him  of  the  ring.  He  goes  and  gets  it. 
Siegfried  now  has  possession  of  the  ring,  but  it  is  to 
bring  him  nothing  of  happiness,  only  evil.  It  is  to  curse 
love  and  finally  bring  death.  The  birds  also  tell  him  of 
Mime's  treachery.  He  slays  Mime.  He  longs  for  some 
one  to  love.  The  birds  tell  him  of  the  slumbering 
Brunnhilda,  whom  he  finds  and  marries. 

The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  portrays  at  the  opening  the 
three  norns  or  fates  weaving  and  measuring  the  thread 
of  destiny.  It  is  the  beginning  of  the  end.  The  perfect 
pair,  Siegfried  and  Brunhild,  appear  in  all  the  glory 
of  their  life,  splendid  ideals  of  manhood  and  womanhood. 
But  Siegfried  goes  out  into  the  world  to  achieve  deeds 
of  prowess.  He  gives  her  the  Nibelungen  ring  to  keep 
as  a  pledge  of  his  love  till  his  return.  Meanwhile  Al- 
berich also  has  begotten  a  son,  Hagan,  to  achieve  for 
him  the  possession  of  the  ring.  He  is  partly  of  the 
Gibichung  race,  and  works  through  Giinther  and  Gut- 
rune,  half-brother  and  half-sister  to  him.  They  beguile 
Siegfried  to  them,  give  him  a  magic  draught  which 
makes  him  forget  Brunhild  and  fall  in  love  with  Gut- 
rune.  Under  this  same  spell,  he  offers  to  bring  Brun- 
hild for  wife  to  Giinther.  Now  is  Valhalla  full  of 
sorrow  and  despair.  The  gods  fear  the  end.  Wotan 
murmurs,  "O  that  she  would  give  back  the  ring  to  the 


WAGNER'S  NIBELUNGEN  RING          357 

Rhine."  But  Brunhild  will  not  give  it  up, — it  is  now 
her  pledge  of  love.  Siegfried  comes,  takes  the  ring,  and 
Brunhild  is  now  brought  to  the  Rhine  castle  of  the 
Gibichungs,  but  Siegfried  under  the  spell  does  not  love 
her.  She  is  to  be  wedded  to  Giinther.  She  rises  in 
wrath  and  denounces  Siegfried.  But  at  a  hunting  ban- 
quet Siegfried  is  given  another  magic  draught,  remem- 
bers all,  and  is  slain  by  Hagan  by  a  blow  in  the  back,  as 
he  calls  on  Brunhild's  name  in  love.  Then  comes  the 
end.  The  body  of  Siegfried  is  burned  on  a  funeral 
pyre,  a  grand  funeral  march  is  heard,  and  Brunhild 
rides  into  the  flames  and  sacrifices  herself  for  love's 
sake;  the  ring  goes  back  to  the  Rhine-daughters;  and 
the  old  world — of  the  gods  of  Valhalla,  of  passion  and 
sin — is  burnt  up  with  flames,  for  the  gods  have  broken 
moral  law,  and  coveted  power  rather  than  love,  gold 
rather  than  truth,  and  therefore  must  perish.  They  pass, 
and  a  new  era,  the  reign  of  love  and  truth,  has  begun. 

Those  who  wish  to  study  the  differences  in  the  legends 
of  the  Nibelungen  Lied  and  the  Nibelungen  Ring,  and 
the  way  in  which  Wagner  used  his  ancient  material,  are 
referred  to  Professor  W.  C.  Sawyer's  book  on  "Teu- 
tonic Legends  in  the  Nibelungen  Lied  and  the  Nibe 
lungen  Ring,"  where  the  matter  is  treated  in  full  detail. 
For  a  very  thorough  and  clear  analysis  of  the  Ring  as 
Wagner  gives  it,  with  a  study  of  the  musical  motifs, 
probably  nothing  is  better  for  general  readers  than 
the  volume  "The  Epic  of  Sounds,"  by  Freda  Winworth. 
The  more  scholarly  work  of  Professor  Lavignac  is  indis- 
pensable for  the  student  of  Wagner's  dramas.  There 
is  much  illuminating  comment  on  the  sources  and  ma- 
terials in  "Legends  of  the  Wagner  Drama"  by  J.  L. 
Weston. 


358       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 
CHAPTER  XLI 

THE  DRUIDS IONA 

DRUIDS 

THE  Druids  were  the  priests  or  ministers  of  religion 
imong  the  ancient  Celtic  nations  in  Gaul,  Britain,  and 
Germany.  Our  information  respecting  them  is  bor- 
rowed from  notices  in  the  Greek  and  Roman  writers, 
compared  with  the  remains  of  Welsh  and  Gaelic  poetry 
still  extant. 

The  Druids  combined  the  functions  of  the  priest,  the 
magistrate,  the  scholar,  and  the  physician.  They  stood 
to  the  people  of  the  Celtic  tribes  in  a  relation  closely 
analogous  to  that  in  which  the  Brahmans  of  India,  the 
Magi  of  Persia,  and  the  priests  of  the  Egyptians  stood 
to  the  people  respectively  by  whom  they  were  revered. 

The  Druids  taught  the  existence  of  one  god,  to  whom 
they  gave  a  name  "Be*  al,"  which  Celtic  antiquaries  tell 
us  means  "the  life  of  everything,"  or  "the  source  of  all 
beings,"  and  which  seems  to  have  affinity  with  the 
Phoenician  Baal.  What  renders  this  affinity  more  strik- 
ing is  that  the  Druids  as  well  as  the  Phoenicians  identi- 
fied this,  their  supreme  deity,  with  the  Sun.  Fire  was 
regarded  as  a  symbol  of  the  divinity.  The  Latin  writers 
assert  that  the  Druids  also  worshipped  numerous  in- 
ferior gods. 

They  used  no  images  to  represent  the  object  of  their 
worship,  nor  did  they  meet  in  temples  or  buildings  of 
any  kind  for  the  performance  of  their  sacred  rites.  A 
circle  of  stones  (each  stone  generally  of  vast  size),  en- 
closing an  area  of  from  twenty  feet  to  thirty  yards  in 
diameter,  constituted  their  sacred  place.  The  most  cele- 
brated of  these  now  remaining  is  Stonehenge,  on  Salis- 
bury Plain,  England. 

These  sacred  circles  were  generally  situated  near 
some  stream,  or  under  the  shadow  of  a  grove  or  wide- 
spreading  oak.  In  the  centre  of  the  circle  stood  the 


DRUIDS  359 

Cromlech  or  altar,  which  was  a  large  stone,  placed  in 
the  manner  of  a  table  upon  other  stones  set  up  on  end. 
The  Druids  had  also  their  high  places,  which  were 
large  stones  or  piles  of  stones  on  the  summits  of  hills. 
These  were  called  Cairns,  and  were  used  in  the  worship 
of  the  deity  under  the  symbol  of  the  sun. 

That  the  Druids  offered  sacrifices  to  their  deity  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  But  there  is  some  uncertainty  as  to 
what  they  offered,  and  of  the  ceremonies  connected  with 
their  religious  services  we  know  almost  nothing.  The 
classical  (Roman)  writers  affirm  that  they  offered  on 
great  occasions  human  sacrifices ;  as  for  success  in  war 
or  for  relief  from  dangerous  diseases.  Caesar  has  given 
a  detailed  account  ©f  the  manner  in  which  this  was  done. 
"They  have  images  of  immense  size,  the  limbs  of  which 
are  framed  with  twisted  twigs  and  filled  with  living  per- 
sons. These  being  set  on  fire,  those  within  are  encom- 
passed by  the  flames.'*  Many  attempts  have  been  made 
by  Celtic  writers  to  shake  the  testimony  of  the  Roman 
historians  to  this  fact,  but  without  success. 

The  Druids  observed  two  festivals  in  each  year.  The 
former  took  place  in  the  beginning  of  May,  and  was 
called  Beltane  or  "fire  of  God."  On  this  occasion  a 
large  fire  was  kindled  on  some  elevated  spot,  in  honor 
of  the  sun,  whose  returning  beneficence  they  thus  wel- 
comed after  the  gloom  and  desolation  of  winter.  Of 
this  custom  a  trace  remains  in  the  name  given  to  Whit- 
sunday in  parts  of  Scotland  to  this  day.  Sir  Walter 
Scott  uses  the  word  in  the  "Boat  Song"  in  the  "Lady 
of  the  Lake" : 

"Ours  is  no  sapling,  chance  sown  by  the  fountain, 
Blooming  at  Beltane  in  winter  to  fade;"  etc. 

The  other  great  festival  of  the  Druids  was  called 
"Samh'in,"  or  "fire  of  peace,"  and  was  held  on  Hallow- 
eve  (first  of  November),  which  still  retains  this  designa- 
tion in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland.  On  this  occasion  the 
Druids  assembled  in  solemn  conclave,  in  the  most  cen- 
tral part  of  the  district,  to  discharge  the  judicial  func- 
tions of  their  order.  All  questions,  whether  public  or 


360       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

private,  all  crimes  against  person  or  property,  were  at 
this  time  brought  before  them  for  adjudication.  With 
these  judicial  acts  were  combined  certain  superstitious 
usages,  especially  the  kindling  of  the  sacred  fire,  from 
which  all  the  fires  in  the  district,  which  had  been  before- 
hand scrupulously  extinguished,  might  be  relighted.  This 
usage  of  kindling  fires  on  Hallow-eve  lingered  in  the 
British  islands  long  after  the  establishment  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Besides  these  two  great  annual  festivals,  the  Druids 
were  in  the  habit  of  observing  the  full  moon,  and  espe- 
cially the  sixth  day  of  the  moon.  On  the  latter  they 
sought  the  Mistletoe,  which  grew  on  their  favorite  oaks, 
and  to  which,  as  well  as  to  the  oak  itself,  they  ascribed 
a  peculiar  virtue  and  sacredness.  The  discovery  of  it 
was  an  occasion  of  rejoicing  and  solemn  worship. 
"They  call  it,"  says  Pliny,  "by  a  word  in  their  language, 
which  means  'heal-all,'  and  having  made  solemn  prep- 
aration for  feasting  and  sacrifice  under  the  tree,  they 
drive  thither  two  milk-white  bulls,  whose  horns  are  then 
for  the  first  time  bound.  The  priest  then,  robed  in 
white,  ascends  the  tree,  and  cuts  off  the  mistletoe  with 
a  golden  sickle.  It  is  caught  in  a  white  mantle,  after 
which  they  proceed  to  slay  the  victims,  at  the  same  time 
praying  that  God  would  render  his  gift  prosperous  to 
those  to  whom  he  had  given  it."  They  drink  the  water 
in  which  it  has  been  infused,  and  think  it  a  remedy  for 
all  diseases.  The  mistletoe  is  a  parasitic  plant,  and  is 
not  always  nor  often  found  on  the  oak,  so  that  when 
it  is  found  it  is  the  more  precious. 

The  Druids  were  the  teachers  of  morality  as  well  as 
of  religion.  Of  their  ethical  teaching  a  valuable  speci- 
men is  preserved  in  the  Triads  of  the  Welsh  Bards, 
and  from  this  we  may  gather  that  their  views  of  moral 
rectitude  were  on  the  whole  just,  and  that  they  held 
and  inculcated  many  very  noble  and  valuable  principles 
of  conduct.  They  were  also  the  men  of  science  and 
learning  of  their  age  and  people.  Whether  they  were 
acquainted  with  letters  or  not  has  been  disputed,  though 
the  probability  is  strong  that  they  were,  to  some  extent. 
J8ut  it  is  certain  that  they  committed  nothing  of  their 


DRUIDS  361 

doctrine,  their  history,  or  their  poetry  to  writing.  Their 
teaching  was  oral,  and  their  literature  (if  such  a  word 
may  be  used  in  such  a  case)  was  preserved  solely  by 
tradition.  But  the  Roman  writers  admit  that  "they  paid 
much  attention  to  the  order  and  laws  of  nature,  and  in- 
vestigated and  taught  to  the  youth  under  their  charge 
many  things  concerning  the  stars  and  their  motions,  the 
size  of  the  world  and  the  lands,  and  concerning  the 
might  and  power  of  the  immortal  gods." 

Their  history  consisted  in  traditional  tales,  in  which 
the  heroic  deeds  of  their  forefathers  were  celebrated. 
These  were  apparently  in  verse,  and  thus  constituted 
part  of  the  poetry  as  well  as  the  history  of  the  Druids. 
In  the  poems  of  Ossian  we  have,  if  not  the  actual  pro- 
ductions of  Druidical  times,  what  may  be  considered 
faithful  representations  of  the  songs  of  the  Bards. 

The  Bards  were  an  essential  part  of  the  Druidical 
hierarchy.  One  author,  Pennant,  says,  "The  Bards 
were  supposed  to  be  endowed  with  powers  equal  to 
inspiration.  They  were  the  oral  historians  of  all  past 
transactions,  public  and  private.  They  were  also  ac- 
complished genealogists,"  etc. 

Pennant  gives  a  minute  account  of  the  Eisteddfods 
or  sessions  of  the  Bards  and  minstrels,  which  were  held 
in  Wales  for  many  centuries,  long  after  the  Druidical 
priesthood  in  its  other  departments  became  extinct.  At 
these  meetings  none  but  Bards  of  merit  were  suffered  to 
rehearse  their  pieces,  and  minstrels  of  skill  to  perform. 
Judges  were  appointed  to  decide  on  their  respective 
abilities,  and  suitable  degrees  were  conferred.  In  the 
earlier  period  the  judges  were  appointed  by  the  Welsh 
princes,  and  after  the  conquest  of  Wales,  by  commis- 
sion from  the  kings  of  England.  Yet  the  tradition  is 
that  Edward  L,  in  revenge  for  the  influence  of  the 
Bards  in  animating  the  resistance  of  the  people  to  his 
sway,  persecuted  them  with  great  cruelty.  This  tra- 
dition has  furnished  the  poet  Gray  with  the  subject  of 
his  celebrated  ode,  the  "Bard." 

There  are  still  occasional  meetings  of  the  lovers  of 
Welsh  poetry  and  music,  held  under  the  ancient  name. 
Among  Mrs.  Hemans'  poems  is  one  written  for  an 


362        STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

Eisteddfod,  or  meeting  of  Welsh  Bards,  held  in  Lon- 
don, May  22,  1822.  It  begins  with  a  description  of 
the  ancient  meeting,  of  which  the  following  lines  are  a 
part: 

".  .  .  midst  the  eternal  cliffs,  whose  strength  defied 
The  crested  Roman  in  his  hour  of  pride; 
And  where  the  Druid's  ancient  cromlech  frowned, 
And  the  oaks  breathed  mysterious  murmurs  round, 
There  thronged  the  inspired  of  yore !  on  plain  or  height, 
In  the  sun's  face,  beneath  the  eye  of  light, 
And  baring  unto  heaven  each  noble  head, 
Stood  in  the  circle,  where  none  else  might  tread." 

The  Druidical  system  was  at  its  height  at  the  time 
of  the  Roman  invasion  under  Julius  Caesar.  Against 
the  Druids,  as  their  chief  enemies,  these  conquerors  of 
the  world  directed  their  unsparing  fury.  The  Druids, 
harassed  at  all  points  on  the  mainland,  retreated  to 
Anglesey  and  lona,  where  for  a  season  they  found  shel- 
ter and  continued  their  now  dishonored  rites. 

The  Druids  retained  their  predominance  in  lona  and 
over  the  adjacent  islands  and  mainland  until  they  were 
supplanted  and  their  superstitions  overturned  by  the 
arrival  of  St.  Columba,  the  apostle  of  the  Highlands, 
by  whom  the  inhabitants  of  that  district  were  first  led 
to  profess  Christianity. 

IONA 

One  of  the  smallest  of  the  British  Isles,  situated  near 
a  rugged  and  barren  coast,  surrounded  by  dangerous 
seas,  and  possessing  no  sources  of  internal  wealth,  lona 
has  obtained  an  imperishable  place  in  history  as  the 
seat  of  civilization  and  religion  at  a  time  when  the 
darkness  of  heathenism  hung  over  almost  the  whole  of 
Northern  Europe.  lona  or  Icolmkill  is  situated  at  the 
extremity  of  the  island  of  Mull,  from  which  it  is  sep- 
arated by  a  strait  of  half  a  mile  in  breadth,  its  distance 
from  the  mainland  of  Scotland  being  thirty-six  miles. 

Columba  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  and  connected  by 
birth  with  the  princes  of  the  land.  Ireland  was  at 
that  time  a  land  of  gospel  light,  while  the  western  and 


IONA  363 

northern  parts  of  Scotland  were  still  immersed  in  the 
darkness  of  heathenism.  Columba  with  twelve  friends 
landed  on  the  island  of  lona  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
563,  having  made  the  passage  in  a  wicker  boat  cov- 
ered with  hides.  The  Druids  who  occupied  the  island 
endeavored  to  prevent  his  settling  there,  and  the  savage 
nations  on  the  adjoining  shores  incommoded  him  with 
their  hostility,  and  on  several  occasions  endangered  his 
life  by  their  attacks.  Yet  by  his  perseverance  and  zeal 
he  surmounted  all  opposition,  procured  from  the  king 
a  gift  of  the  island,  and  established  there  a  monastery 
of  which  he  was  the  abbot.  He  was  unwearied  in  his 
labors  to  disseminate  a  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures 
throughout  the  Highlands  and  islands  of  Scotland,  and 
such  was  the  reverence  paid  him  that  though  not  a 
bishop,  but  merely  a  presbyter  and  monk,  the  entire 
province  with  its  bishops  was  subject  to  him  and  his 
successors.  The  Pictish  monarch  was  so  impressed  with 
a  sense  of  his  wisdom  and  worth  that  he  held  him  in 
the  highest  honor,  and  the  neighboring  chiefs  and 
princes  sought  his  counsel  and  availed  themselves  of 
his  judgment  in  settling  their  disputes. 

When  Columba  landed  on  lona  he  was  attended  by 
twelve  followers  whom  he  had  formed  into  a  religious 
body  of  which  he  was  the  head.  To  these,  as  occa- 
sion required,  others  were  from  time  to  time  added,  so 
that  the  original  number  was  always  kept  up.  Their 
institution  was  called  a  monastery  and  the  superior 
an  abbot,  but  the  system  had  little  in  common  with  the 
monastic  institutions  of  later  times.  The  name  by  which 
those  who  submitted  to  the  rule  were  known  was  that 
of  Culdees,  probably  from  the  Latin  "cultores  Dei" — 
worshippers  of  God.  They  were  a  body  of  religious 
persons  associated  together  for  the  purpose  of  aiding 
each  other  in  the  common  work  of  preaching  the  gos- 
pel and  teaching  youth,  as  well  as  maintaining  in  them- 
selves the  fervor  of  devotion  by  united  exercises  of  wor- 
ship. On  entering  the  order  certain  vows  were  taken 
by  the  members,  but  they  were  not  those  which  were 
usually  imposed  by  monastic  orders,  for  of  these,  which 
are  three, — celibacy,  poverty,  and  obedience. — the  Cul- 


364       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

dees  were  bound  to  none  except  the  third.  To  poverty 
they  did  not  bind  themselves ;  on  the  contrary  they  seem 
to  have  labored  diligently  to  procure  for  themselves  and 
those  dependent  on  them  the  comforts  of  life.  Mar- 
riage also  was  allowed  them,  and  most  of  them  seem 
to  have  entered  into  that  state.  True,  their  wives  were 
not  permitted  to  reside  with  them  at  the  institution,  but 
they  had  a  residence  assigned  to  them  in  an  adjacent 
locality.  Near  lona  there  is  an  island  which  still  bears  the 
name  of  "Eilen  nam  ban/*  women's  island,  where  their 
husbands  seem  to  have  resided  with  them,  except  when 
duty  required  their  presence  in  the  school  or  the  sanc- 
tuary. 

Campbell,  in  his  poem  of  "Reullura,"  alludes  to  the 
married  monks  of  lona : 

".  .  .  The  pure  Culdees 

Were  Albyn's   earliest  priests  of   God, 
Ere  yet  an  island  of  her  seas 

By  foot  of  Saxon  monk  was  trod, 
Long  ere  her  churchmen  by  bigotry 
Were  barred  from  holy  wedlock's  tie. 
'Twas  then  that  Aodh,  famed  afar, 

In  lona  preached  the  word  with  power, 
And  Reullura,  beauty's  star, 

Was  the  partner  of  his  bower." 

In  one  of  his  "Irish  Melodies,"  Moore  gives  the  leg- 
end of  St.  Senanus  and  the  lady  who  sought  shelter  on 
the  island,  but  was  repulsed: 

"O,  haste  and  leave  this  sacred   isle, 
Unholy  bark,  ere  morning  smile; 
For  on  thy  deck,  though  dark  it  be, 

A  female  form  I  see; 
And  I  have  sworn  this  sainted  sod 
Shall  ne'er  by  woman's  foot  be  trod." 

In  these  respects  and  in  others  the  Culdees  departed 
from  the  established  rules  of  the  Romish  church,  and 
consequently  were  deemed  heretical.  The  consequence 
was  that  as  the  power  of  the  latter  advanced  that  of  the 
Culdees  was  enfeebled.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the 
thirteenth  centurv  that  the  communities  of  the  Culdee? 


IONA  365 

were  suppressed  and  the  members  dispersed.  They  still 
continued  to  labor  as  individuals,  and  resisted  the  inroads 
of  Papal  usurpation  as  they  best  might  till  the  light  of 
the  Reformation  dawned  on  the  world. 

lona,  from  its  position  in  the  western  seas,  was  ex- 
posed to  the  assaults  of  the  Norwegian  and  Danish  rov- 
ers by  whom  those  seas  were  infested,  and  by  them  it 
was  repeatedly  pillaged,  its  dwellings  burned,  and  its 
peaceful  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword.  These  unfav- 
orable circumstances  led  to  its  gradual  decline,  which 
was  expedited  by  the  subversion  of  the  Culdees  through- 
out Scotland.  Under  the  reign  of  Popery  the  island 
became  the  seat  of  a  nunnery,  the  ruins  of  which  are 
still  seen.  At  the  Reformation,  the  nuns  were  allowed 
to  remain,  living  in  community,  when  the  abbey  was 
dismantled. 

lona  is  now  chiefly  resorted  to  by  travellers  on  ac- 
count of  the  numerous  ecclesiastical  and  sepulchral  re- 
mains which  are  found  upon  it.  The  principal  of  these 
are  the  Cathedral  or  Abbey  Church  and  the  Chapel  of 
the  Nunnery.  Besides  these  remains  of  ecclesiastical 
antiquity,  there  are  some  of  an  earlier  date,  and  point- 
ing to  the  existence  on  the  island  of  forms  of  worship 
and  belief  different  from  those  of  Christianity.  These 
are  the  circular  Cairns  which  are  found  in  various  parts, 
and  which  seem  to  have  been  of  Druidical  origin.  It  is 
in  reference  to  all  these  remains  of  ancient  religion  that 
Johnson  exclaims,  "That  man  is  little  to  be  envied  whose 
patriotism  would  not  gain  force  upon  the  plains  of 
Marathon,  or  whose  piety  would  not  grow  warmer  amio 
the  ruins  of  lona." 

In  the  "Lord  of  the  Isles"  Scott  beautifully  contrasts 
the  church  on  lona  with  the  cave  of  Staffa,  opposite : 

"Nature  herself,  it  seemed,  would  raise 
A  minster  to  her  Maker's  praise ! 
Not  for  a  meaner  use  ascend 
Her  columns,  or  her  arches  bend; 
Nor  of  a  theme  less  solemn  tells 
That  mighty  surge  that  ebbs  and  swells, 
And  still  between  each  awful  pause, 
From  the  high  vault  an  answer  draws, 


366       STORIES  OF  GODS  AND  HEROES 

In  varied  tone,  prolonged  and  high, 
That  mocks  the  organ's  melody; 
Nor  doth  its  entrance  front  in  vain 
To  old  lona's  holy  fane, 
That  Nature's  voice  might  seem  to  say, 
Well  hast  thou  done,  frail  child  of  clay! 
Thy  humble  powers  that  stately  shrine 
Tasked  high  and  hard— but  witness  mine!" 


KING  ARTHUR  AND   HIS 
KNIGHTS 


CHAPTER    I 

INTRODUCTION 

ON  the  decline  of  the  Roman  power,  about  five  cen- 
turies after  Christ,  the  countries  of  Northern  Europe 
were  left  almost  destitute  of  a  national  government. 
Numerous  chiefs,  more  or  less  powerful,  held  local 
sway,  as  far  as  each  could  enforce  his  dominion,  and 
occasionally  those  chiefs  would  unite  for  a  common 
object ;  but,  in  ordinary  times,  they  were  much  more 
likely  to  be  found  in  hostility  to  one  another.  In  such 
a  state  of  things  the  rights  of  the  humbler  classes  of 
society  were  at  the  mercy  of  every  assailant ;  and  it  is 
plain  that,  without  some  check  upon  the  lawless  power 
of  the  chiefs,  society  must  have  relapsed  into  barbarism. 
Such  checks  were  found,  first,  in  the  rivalry  of  the  chiefs 
themselves,  whose  mutual  jealousy  made  them  restraints 
upon  one  another;  secondly,  in  the  influence  of  the 
Church,  which,  by  every  motive,  pure  or  selfish,  was 
pledged  to  interpose  for  the  protection  of  the  weak; 
and  lastly,  in  the  generosity  and  sense  of  right  which, 
however  crushed  under  the  weight  of  passion  and 
selfishness,  dwell  naturally  in  the  heart  of  man.  From 
this  last  source  sprang  Chivalry,  which  framed  an  ideal 
of  the  heroic  character,  combining  invincible  strength 
and  valor,  justice,  modesty,  loyalty  to  superiors,  cour- 
tesy to  equals,  compassion  to  weakness,  and  devotedness 
to  the  Church ;  an  ideal  which,  if  never  met  with  in  real 
life,  was  acknowledged  by  all  as  the  highest  model  for 
emulation. 

367 


368      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

The  word  "Chivalry"  is  derived  from  the  French 
"cheval"  a  horse.  The  word  "knight/'  which  origi- 
nally meant  boy  or  servant,  was  particularly  applied  to 
a  young  man  after  he  was  admitted  to  the  privilege 
of  bearing  arms.  This  privilege  was  conferred  on  youths 
of  family  and  fortune  only,  for  the  mass  of  the  people 
were  not  furnished  with  arms.  The  knight  then  was 
a  mounted  warrior,  a  man  of  rank,  or  in  the  service 
and  maintenance  of  some  man  of  rank,  generally  pos- 
sessing some  independent  means  of  support,  but  often 
relying  mainly  on  the  gratitude  of  those  whom  he  served 
for  the  supply  of  his  wants,  and  often,  no  doubt,  re- 
sorting to  the  means  which  power  confers  on  its  pos- 
sessor. 

In  time  of  war  the  knight  was,  with  his  followers, 
in  the  camp  of  his  sovereign,  or  commanding  in  the 
field,  or  holding  some  castle  for  him.  In  time  of  peace 
he  was  often  in  attendance  at  his  sovereign's  court, 
gracing  with  his  presence  the  banquets  and  tournaments 
with  which  princes  cheered  their  leisure.  Or  he  was 
traversing  the  country  in  quest  of  adventure,  professedly 
bent  on  redressing  wrongs  and  enforcing  rights,  some- 
times in  fulfilment  of  some  vow  of  religion  or  of  love. 
These  wandering  knights  were  called  knights-errant ; 
they  were  welcome  guests  in  the  castles  of  the  no- 
bility, for  their  presence  enlivened  the  dulness  of  those 
secluded  abodes,  and  they  were  received  with  honor 
at  the  abbeys,  which  often  owed  the  best  part  of  their 
revenues  to  the  patronage  of  the  knights;  but  if  no 
castle  or  abbey  or  hermitage  were  at  hand  their  hardy 
habits  made  it  not  intolerable  to  them  to  lie  down, 
supperless,  at  the  foot  of  some  wayside  cross,  and  pass 
the  night. 

It  is  evident  that  the  justice  administered  by  such  an 
instrumentality  must  have  been  of  the  rudest  descrip- 
tion. The  force  whose  legitimate  purpose  was  to  re- 
dress wrongs  might  easily  be  perverted  to  inflict  them. 
Accordingly,  we  find  in  the  romances,  which,  however 
fabulous  in  facts,  are  true  as  pictures  of  manners,  that 
a  knightly  castle  was  often  a  terror  to  the  surrounding 
country;  that  is,  dungeons  were  full  of  oppressed 


INTRODUCTION  369 

knights  and  ladies,  waiting  for  some  champion  to  appear 
to  set  them  free,  or  to  be  ransomed  with  money;  that 
hosts  of  idle  retainers  were  ever  at  hand  to  enforce 
their  lord's  behests,  regardless  of  law  and  justice;  and 
that  the  rights  of  the  unarmed  multitude  were  of  no 
account.  This  contrariety  of  fact  and  theory  in  regard 
to  chivalry  will  account  for  the  opposite  impressions 
which  exist  in  men's  minds  respecting  it.  While  it  has 
been  the  theme  of  the  most  fervid  eulogium  on  the  one 
part,  it  has  been  as  eagerly  denounced  on  the  other. 
On  a  cool  estimate,  we  cannot  but  see  reason  to  con- 
gratulate ourselves  that  it  has  given  way  in  modern 
times  to  the  reign  of  law,  and  that  the  civil  magistrate, 
if  less  picturesque,  has  taken  the  place  of  the  mailed 
champion. 

THE   TRAINING   OF    A    KNIGHT 

The  preparatory  education  of  candidates  for  knight- 
hood was  long  and  arduous.  At  seven  years  of  age 
the  noble  children  were  usually  removed  from  their 
father's  house  to  the  court  or  castle  of  their  future 
patron,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  a  governor,  who 
taught  them  the  first  articles  of  religion,  and  respect 
and  reverence  for  their  lords  and  superiors,  and  initiated 
them  in  the  ceremonies  of  a  court.  They  were  called 
pag.cs,  valets,  or  varlets,  and  their  office  was  to  carve, 
to  wait  at  table,  and  to  perform  other  menial  services, 
which  were  not  then  considered  humiliating.  In  then 
leisure  hours  they  learned  to  dance  and  play  on  the  harp, 
were  instructed  in  the  mysteries  of  woods  and  rivers, 
that  is,  in  hunting,  falconry,  and  fishing,  and  in  wrest- 
ling, tilting  with  spears,  and  performing  other  military 
exercises  on  horseback.  At  fourteen  the  page  became 
an  esquire,  and  began  a  course  of  severer  and  more 
laborious  exercises.  To  vault  on  a  horse  in  heavy 
armor;  to  run,  to  scale  walls,  and  spring  over  ditches, 
under  the  same  encumbrance;  to  wrestle,  to  wield  the 
battle-axe  for  a  length  of  time,  without  raising  the  visor 
or  taking  breath;  to  perform  with  grace  all  the  evolu- 
tions of  horsemanship, — were  necessary  preliminaries  to 


370      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

the  reception  of  knighthood,  which  was  usually  conferred 
at  twenty-one  years  of  age,  when  the  young  man's  edu- 
cation was  supposed  to  be  completed.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  esquires  were  no  less  assiduously  engaged  in 
acquiring  all  those  refinements  of  civility  which  formed 
what  was  in  that  age  called  courtesy.  The  same  castle 
in  which  they  received  their  education  was  usually 
thronged  with  young  persons  of  the  other  sex,  and  the 
page  was  encouraged,  at  a  very  early  age,  to  select 
some  lady  of  the  court  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart, 
to  whom  he  was  taught  to  refer  all  his  sentiments,  words, 
and  actions.  The  service  of  his  mistress  was  the  glory 
and  occupation  of  a  knight,  and  her  smiles,  bestowed  at 
once  by  affection  and  gratitude,  were  held  out  as  the 
recompense  of  his  well-directed  valor.  Religion  united 
its  influence  with  those  of  loyalty  and  love,  and  the 
order  of  knighthood,  endowed  with  all  the  sanctity  and 
religious  awe  that  attended  the  priesthood,  became  an 
object  of  ambition  to  the  greatest  sovereigns. 

The  ceremonies  of  initiation  were  peculiarly  solemn. 
After  undergoing  a  severe  fast,  and  spending  whole 
nights  in  prayer,  the  candidate  confessed,  and  received 
the  sacrament.  He  then  clothed  himself  in  snow-white 
garments,  and  repaired  to  the  church,  or  the  hall,  where 
the  ceremony  was  to  take  place,  bearing  a  knightly 
sword  suspended  from  his  neck,  which  the  officiating 
priest  took  and  blessed,  and  then  returned  to  him.  The 
candidate  then,  with  folded  arms,  knelt  before  the  pre- 
siding knight,  who,  after  some  questions  about  his  mo- 
tives and  purposes  in  requesting  admission,  adminis- 
tered to  him  the  oaths,  and  granted  his  request.  Some 
of  the  knights  present,  sometimes  even  ladies  and  dam- 
sels, handed  to  him  in  succession  the  spurs,  the  coat  of 
mail,  the  hauberk,  the  armlet  and  gauntlet,  and  lastly 
he  girded  on  the  sword.  He  then  knelt  again  before 
the  president,  who,  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  him  the 
"accolade,"  which  consisted  of  three  strokes,  with  the 
flat  of  a  sword,  on  the  shoulder  or  neck  of  the  can- 
didate, accompanied  by  the  words:  "In  the  name  of 
God,  of  St.  Michael,  and  St.  George,  I  make  thee  a 
knight ;  be  valiant,  courteous,  and  loyal !"  Then  he  re- 


INTRODUCTION  371 

ceived  his  helmet,  his  shield,  and  spear;  and  thus  the 
investiture  ended. 


FREEMEN,   VILLAINS,    SERFS,    AND    CLERKS 

The  other  classes  of  which  society  was  composed 
were,  first,  freemen,  owners  of  small  portions  of  land 
independent,  though  they  sometimes  voluntarily  became 
the  vassals  of  their  more  opulent  neighbors,  whose 
power  was  necessary  for  their  protection.  The  other 
two  classes,  which  were  much  the  most  numerous,  were 
either  serfs  or  villains,  both  of  which  were  slaves. 

The  serfs  were  in  the  lowest  state  of  slavery.  All 
the  fruits  of  their  labor  belonged  to  the  master  whose 
land  they  tilled,  and  by  whom  they  were  fed  and  clothed. 

The  villains  were  less  degraded.  Their  situation 
seems  to  have  resembled  that  of  the  Russian  peasants 
at  this  day.  Like  the  serfs,  they  were  attached  to  the 
soil,  and  were  transferred  with  it  by  purchase;  but  they 
paid  only  a  fixed  rent  to  the  landlord,  and  had  a 
right  to  dispose  of  any  surplus  that  might  arise  from 
their  industry. 

The  term  "clerk"  was  of  very  extensive  import.  It 
comprehended,  originally,  such  persons  only  as  belonged 
to  the  clergy,  or  clerical  order,  among  whom,  however, 
might  be  found  a  multitude  of  married  persons,  artisans 
or  others.  But  in  process  of  time  a  much  wider  rule 
was  established ;  every  one  that  could  read  being  ac- 
counted a  clerk  or  clericus,  and  allowed  the  "benefit 
of  clergy,"  that  is,  exemption  from  capital  and  some 
other  forms  of  punishment,  in  case  of  crime. 


TOURNAMENTS 

The  splendid  pageant  of  a  tournament  between 
knights,  its  gaudy  accessories  and  trappings,  and  its 
chivalrous  regulations,  originated  in  France.  Tourna- 
ments were  repeatedly  condemned  by  the  Church, 
probably  on  account  of  the  quarrels  they  led  to,  and 
the  often  fata)  results.  The  "joust,"  or  "just,"  was 


372      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

different  from  the  tournament.  In  these,  knights  fought 
with  their  lances,  and  their  object  was  to  unhorse  their 
antagonists;  while  the  tournaments  were  intended  for 
a  display  of  skill  and  address  in  evolutions,  and  with 
various  weapons,  and  greater  courtesy  was  observed  in 
the  regulations.  By  these  it  was  forbidden  to  wound 
the  horse,  or  to  use  the  point  of  the  sword,  or  to  strike 
a  knight  after  he  had  raised  his  vizor,  or  unlaced  his 
helmet.  The  ladies  encouraged  their  knights  in  these 
exercises;  they  bestowed  prizes,  and  the  conqueror's 
feats  were  the  theme  of  romance  and  song.  The  stands 
overlooking  the  ground,  of  course,  were  varied  in  the 
shapes  of  towers,  terraces,  galleries,  and  pensile  gardens, 
magnificently  decorated  with  tapestry,  pavilions,  and 
banners.  Every  combatant  proclaimed  the  name  of  the 
lady  whose  servant  d'amour  he  was.  He  was  wont  to 
look  up  to  the  stand,  and  strengthen  his  courage  by 
the  sight  of  the  bright  eyes  that  were  raining  their  in- 
fluence on  him  from  above.  The  knights  also  carried 
favors,  consisting  of  scarfs,  veils,  sleeves,  bracelets, 
clasps, — in  short,  some  piece  of  female  habiliment, — at- 
tached to  their  helmets,  shields,  or  armor.  If,  during 
the  combat,  any  of  these  appendages  were  dropped  or 
lost  the  fair  donor  would  at  times  send  her  knight  new 
ones,  especially  if  pleased  with  his  exertions. 

MAIL  ARMOR 

Mail  armor,  of  which  the  hauberk  is  a  species,  and 
which  derived  its  name  from  maille,  a  French  word  for 
mesh,  was  of  two  kinds,  plate  or  scale  mail,  and  chain 
mail.  It  was  originally  used  for  the  protection  of  the 
body  only,  reaching  no  lower  than  the  knees.  It  was 
shaped  like  a  carter's  frock,  and  bound  round  the  waist 
by  a  girdle.  Gloves  and  hose  of  mail  were  afterwards 
added,  and  a  hood,  which,  when  necessary,  was  drawn 
over  the  head,  leaving  the  face  alone  uncovered.  To 
protect  the  skin  from  the  impression  of  the  iron  net- 
work of  the  chain  mail,  a  quilted  lining  was  employed, 
which,  however,  was  insufficient,  and  the  bath  was  used 
to  efface  the  marks  of  the  armor. 


INTRODUCTION  373 

The  hauberk  was  a  complete  covering  of  double  chain 
mail.  Some  hauberks  opened  before,  like  a  modern 
coat;  others  were  closed  like  a  shirt. 

The  chain  mail  of  which  they  were  composed  was 
formed  by  a  number  of  iron  links,  each  link  having 
others  inserted  into  it,  the  whole  exhibiting  a  kind  of 
network,  of  which  (in  some  instances  at  least)  the 
meshes  were  circular,  with  each  link  separately  riveted. 

The  hauberk  was  proof  against  the  most  violent  blow 
of  a  sword ;  but  the  point  of  a  lance  might  pass  through 
the  meshes,  or  drive  the  iron  into  the  flesh.  To  guard 
against  this,  a  thick  and  well-stuffed  doublet  was  worn 
underneath,  under  which  was  commonly  added  an  iron 
breastplate.  Hence  the  expression  "to  pierce  both  plate 
and  mail,"  so  common  in  the  earlier  poets. 

Mail  armor  continued  in  general  use  till  about  the 
year  1300,  when  it  was  gradually  supplanted  by  plate 
armor,  or  suits  consisting  of  pieces  or  plates  of  solid 
iron,  adapted  to  the  different  parts  of  the  body. 

Shields  were  generally  made  of  wood,  covered  with 
leather,  or  some  similar  substance.  To  secure  them,  in 
some  sort,  from  being  cut  through  by  the  sword,  they 
were  surrounded  with  a  hoop  of  metal. 

HELMETS 

The  helmet  was  composed  of  two  parts:  the  head- 
piece, which  was  strengthened  within  by  several  circles 
of  iron,  and  the  visor,  which,  as  the  name  implies,  was 
a  sort  of  grating  to  see  through,  so  contrived  as,  by 
sliding  in  a  groove,  or  turning  on  a  pivot,  to  be  raised 
or  lowered  at  pleasure.  Some  helmets  had  a  further 
improvement  called  a  bever,  from  the  Italian  bevere,  to 
drink.  The  ventayle,  or  "air-passage,"  is  another  name 
for  this. 

To  secure  the  helmet  from  the  possibility  of  falling, 
or  of  being  struck  off,  it  was  tied  by  several  laces  to 
the  meshes  of  the  hauberk ;  consequently,  when  a  knight 
was  overthrown  it  was  necessary  to  undo  these  laces 
before  he  could  be  put  to  death;  though  this  was  some- 
times effected  by  lifting  up  the  skirt  of  the  hauberk, 


374      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

and  stabbing  him  in  the  belly.    The  instrument  of  death 
was  a  small  dagger,  worn  on  the  right  side. 

ROMANCES 

In  ages  when  there  were  no  books,  when  noblemen 
and  princes  themselves  could  not  read,  history  or  tra- 
dition was  monopolized  by  the  story-tellers.  They  in- 
herited, generation  after  generation,  the  wondrous  tales 
of  their  predecessors,  which  they  retailed  to  the  public 
with  such  additions  of  their  own  as  their  acquired  in- 
formation supplied  them  with.  Anachronisms  became 
of  course  very  common,  and  errors  of  geography,  of  lo- 
cality, of  manners,  equally  so.  Spurious  genealogies 
were  invented,  in  which  Arthur  and  his  knights,  and 
Charlemagne  and  his  paladins,  were  made  to  derive  their 
descent  from  ^neas,  Hector,  or  some  other  of  the 
Trojan  heroes. 

With  regard  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  "Romance," 
we  trace  it  to  the  fact  that  the  dialects  which  were 
formed  in  Western  Europe,  from  the  admixture  of 
Latin  with  the  native  languages,  took  the  name  of 
Langue  Romaine.  The  French  language  was  divided 
into  two  dialects.  The  river  Loire  was  their  common 
boundary.  In  the  provinces  to  the  south  of  that  river 
the  affirmative,  yes,  was  expressed  by  the  word  oc;  in 
the  north  it  was  called  oil  (oui) ;  and  hence  Dante  has 
named  the  southern  language  langue  d 'oc,  and  the  north- 
ern langue  d'oil.  The  latter,  which  was  carried  into 
England  by  the  Normans,  and  is  the  origin  of  the  pres- 
ent French,  may  be  called  the  French  Romane;  and 
the  former  the  Provencal,  or  Provencial  Romane,  be- 
cause it  was  spoken  by  the  people  of  Provence  and 
Languedoc,  southern  provinces  of  France. 

These  dialects  were  soon  distinguished  by  very  op- 
posite characters.  A  soft  and  enervating  climate,  a 
spirit  of  commerce  encouraged  by  an  easy  communica- 
tion with  other  maritime  nations,  the  influx  of  wealth, 
and  a  more  settled  government,  may  have  tended  to 
polish  and  soften  the  diction  of  the  Provencials,  whose 
ooets.  under  the  name  of  Troubadours,  were  the  mas- 


INTRODUCTION  375 

ters  of  the  Italians,  and  particularly  of  Petrarch.  Their 
favorite  pieces  were  Sirventes  (satirical  pieces),  love- 
songs,  and  Tensons,  which  last  were  a  sort  of  dialogue 
in  verse  between  two  poets,  who  questioned  each  other 
on  some  refined  points  of  loves'  casuistry.  It  seems  the 
Provencials  were  so  completely  absorbed  in  these  deli- 
cate questions  as  to  neglect  and  despise  the  composition 
of  fabulous  histories  of  adventure  and  knighthood,  which 
they  left  in  a  great  measure  to  the  poets  of  the  north- 
ern part  of  the  kingdom,  called  Trouveurs. 

At  a  time  when  chivalry  excited  universal  admira- 
tion, and  when  all  the  efforts  of  that  chivalry  were 
directed  against  the  enemies  of  religion,  it  was  natural 
that  literature  should  receive  the  same  impulse,  and 
that  history  and  fable  should  be  ransacked  to  furnish 
examples  of  courage  and  piety  that  might  excite  in- 
creased emulation.  Arthur  and  Charlemagne  were  the 
two  heroes  selected  for  this  purpose.  Arthur's  preten- 
sions were  that  he  was  a  brave,  though  not  always  a 
successful  warrior;  he  had  withstood  with  great  resolu- 
tion the  arms  of  the  infidels,  that  is  to  say  of  the  Saxons, 
and  his  memory  was  held  in  the  highest  estimation  by 
his  countrymen,  the  Britons,  who  carried  with  them  into 
Wales,  and  into  the  kindred  country  of  Armorica,  or 
Brittany,  the  memory  of  his  exploits,  which  their  na- 
tional vanity  insensibly  exaggerated,  till  the  little  prince 
of  the  Silures  (South  Wales)  was  magnified  into  the 
conqueror  of  England,  of  Gaul,  and  of  the  greater  part 
of  Europe.  His  genealogy  was  gradually  carried  up  to 
an  imaginary  Brutus,  and  to  the  period  of  the  Trojan 
war,  and  a  sort  of  chronicle  was  composed  in  the  Welsh, 
or  Armorican  language,  which,  under  the  pompous  title 
of  the  "History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,"  was  translated 
into  Latin  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  about  the  year 
1150.  The  Welsh  critics  consider  the  material  of  the 
work  to  have  been  an  older  history,  written  by  St.  Talian, 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  in  the  seventh  century' 

As  to  Charlemagne,  though  his  real  merits  were  suf- 
ficient to  secure  his  immortality,  it  was  impossible  that 
his  holy^  wars  against  the  Saracens  should  not  become 
a  favorite  topic  for  fiction.  Accordingly,  the  fabulous 


376      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

history  of  these  wars  was  written,  probably  towards 
the  close  of  the  eleventh  century,  by  a  monk,  who,  think- 
ing it  would  add  dignity  to  his  work  to  embellish  it  with 
a  contemporary  name,  boldly  ascribed  it  to  Turpin,  who 
was  Archbishop  of  Rheims  about  the  year  773. 

These  fabulous  chronicles  were  for  a  while  impris- 
oned in  languages  of  local  only  or  of  professional  ac- 
cess. Both  Turpin  and  Geoffrey  might  indeed  be  read 
by  ecclesiastics,  the  sole  Latin  scholars  of  those  times, 
and  Geoffrey's  British  original  would  contribute  to  the 
gratification  of  Welshmen ;  but  neither  could  become 
extensively  popular  till  translated  into  some  language  of 
general  and  familiar  use.  The  Anglo-Saxon  was  at  that 
time  used  only  by  a  conquered  and  enslaved  nation ; 
the  Spanish  and  Italian  languages  were  not  yet  formed; 
the  Norman  French  alone  was  spoken  and  understood 
by  the  nobility  in  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  and  there- 
fore was  a  proper  vehicle  for  the  new  mode  of  com- 
position. 

That  language  was  fashionable  in  England  before  the 
Conquest,  and  became,  after  that  event,  the  only  lan- 
guage used  at  the  court  of  London.  As  the  various  con- 
quests of  the  Normans,  and  the  enthusiastic  valor  of 
that  extraordinary  people,  had  familiarized  the  minds  of 
men  with  the  most  marvellous  events,  their  poets  eagerly 
seized  the  fabulous  legends  of  Arthur  and  Charlemagne, 
translated  them  into  the  language  of  the  day,  and  soon 
produced  a  variety  of  imitations.  The  adventures  at- 
tributed to  these  monarchs,  and  to  their  distinguished 
warriors,  together  with  those  of  many  other  traditionary 
or  imaginary  heroes,  composed  by  degrees  that  formid- 
able body  of  marvellous  histories  which,  from  the  dia- 
lect in  which  the  most  ancient  of  them  were  written, 
were  called  "Romances." 

METRICAL  ROMANCES 

The  earliest  form  in  which  romances  appear  is  that 
of  a  rude  kind  of  verse.  In  this  form  it  is  supposed 
they  were  sung  or  recited  at  the  feasts  of  princes  and 
knights  in  their  baronial  halls.  The  following  specimen 


INTRODUCTION  377 

of  the  language  and  style  of  Robert  de  Beauvais,  who 
flourished  in  1257,  is  from  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "Intro- 
duction to  the  Romance  of  Sir  Tristrem": 

"Ne  voil  pas  emmi  dire, 
Ici  diverse  la  matyere, 
Entre  ecus  qui  solent  cunter, 
E  de  le  cunte  Tristran  parler." 

"I  will  not  say  too  much  about  it, 
So  diverse  is  the  matter, 
Among  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  telling 
And  relating  the  story  of  Tristran." 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  language  which  was  in 
use  among  the  nobility  of  England,  in  the  ages  imme- 
diately after  the  Norman  conquest.  The  following  is 
a  specimen  of  the  English  that  existed  at  the  same  time, 
among  the  common  people.  Robert  de  Brunne,  speak- 
ing of  his  Latin  and  French  authorities,  says : 

"Als  thai  haf  wryten  and  sayd 
Haf  I  alle  in  myn  Inglis  layd, 
In  symple  speche  as  I  couthe, 
That  is  lightest  in  manne's  mouthe. 
Alle  for  the  luf  of  symple  men, 
That  strange  Inglis  cannot  ken." 

The  "strange  Inglis"  being  the  language  of  the  pre- 
vious specimen. 

It  was  not  till  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury that  the  prose  romances  began  to  appear.  These 
works  generally  began  with  disowning  and  discrediting 
the  sources  from  which  in  reality  they  drew  their  sole 
information.  As  every  romance  was  supposed  to  be  a 
real  history,  the  compilers  of  those  in  prose  would  have 
forfeited  all  credit  if  they  had  announced  themselves  as 
mere  copyists  of  the  minstrels.  On  the  contrary,  they 
usually  state  that,  as  the  popular  poems  upon  the  mat- 
ter in  question  contain  many  "lesings,"  they  had  been 
induced  to  translate  the  real  and  true  history  of  such 
or  such  a  knight  from  the  original  Latin  or  Greek,  or 
from  the  ancient  British  or  Arrnorican  authorities, 
which  authorities  existed  only  in  their  own  assertion. 


378      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

A  specimen  of  the  style  of  the  prose  romances  may 
be  found  in  the  following  extract  from  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  and  latest  of  them,  the  "Morte  d'Arthur" 
of  Sir  Thomas  Mallory,  of  the  date  of  1485.  From 
this  work  much  of  the  contents  of  this  volume  has  been 
drawn,  with  as  close  an  adherence  to  the  original  style 
as  was  thought  consistent  with  our  plan  of  adapting 
our  narrative  to  the  taste  of  modern  readers. 

"It  is  notoyrly  knowen  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world 
that  there  been  ix  worthy  and  the  best  that  ever  were. 
That  is  to  wete  thre  paynyms,  three  Jewes,  and  three 
crysten  men.  As  for  the  paynyms,  they  were  tofore 
the  Incarnacyon  of  Cryst  whiche  were  named,  the  fyrst 
Hector  of  Troye;  the  second  Alysaunder  the  grete,  and 
the  thyrd  Julyus  Cezar,  Emperour  of  Rome,  of  whome 
thystoryes  ben  wel  kno  and  had.  And  as  for  the 
thre  Jewes  whyche  also  were  tofore  thyncarnacyon  of 
our  Lord,  of  whome  the  fyrst  was  Due  Josue,  whyche 
brought  the  chyldren  of  Israhel  into  the  londe  of  be- 
heste;  the  second  Dauyd,  kyng  of  Jherusalem,  and  the 
thyrd  Judas  Machabeus;  of  these  thre  the  byble  re- 
herceth  al  theyr  noble  hystoryes  and  actes.  And  sythe 
the  sayd  Incarnacyon  haue  ben  the  noble  crysten  men 
stalled  and  admytted  thorugh  the  vnyuersal  world  to 
the  nombre  of  the  ix  beste  and  worthy,  of  whome  was 
fyrst  the  noble  Arthur,  whose  noble  actes  I  purpose  to 
wryte  in  this  person  book  here  folowyng.  The  second 
was  Charlemayn,  or  Charles  the  grete,  of  whome  thy- 
storye  is  had  in  many  places  both  in  frensshe  and  eng- 
lysshe,  and  the  thyrd  and  last  was  Godefray  of  boloyn." 


CHAPTER    II 

THE   MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND 

THE  illustrious  poet,  Milton,  in  his  "History  of  Eng- 
land/' is  the  author  whom  we  chiefly  follow  in  this 
chapter. 


MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND        379 

According  to  the  earliest  accounts,  Albion,  a  giant, 
and  son  of  Neptune,  a  contemporary  of  Hercules,  ruled 
over  the  island,  to  which  he  gave  his  name.  Presuming 
to  oppose  the  progress  of  Hercules  in  his  western  march, 
he  was  slain  by  him. 

Another  story  is  that  Histion,  the  son  of  Japhet,  the 
son  of  Noah,  had  four  sons,  Francus,  Romanus,  Aleman- 
nus,  and  Britto,  from  whom  descended  the  French,  Ro- 
man, German,  and  British  people. 

Rejecting  these  and  other  like  stories,  Milton  gives 
more  regard  to  the  story  of  Brutus,  the  Trojan,  which, 
he  says,  is  supported  by  ''descents  of  ancestry  long  con- 
tinued, laws  and  exploits  not  plainly  seeming  to  be  bor- 
rowed or  devised,  which  on  the  common  belief  have 
wrought  no  small  impression ;  defended  by  many,  de- 
nied utterly  by  few."  The  principal  authority  is  Geoffrey 
of  Monmouth,  whose  history,  written  in  the  twelfth 
century,  purports  to  be  a  translation  of  a  history  of 
Britain  brought  over  from  the  opposite  shore  of  France, 
which,  under  the  name  of  Brittany,  was  chiefly  peopled 
by  natives  of  Britain  who,  from  time  to  time,  emigrated 
thither,  driven  from  their  own  country  by  the  inroads 
of  the  Picts  and  Scots.  According  to  this  authority, 
Brutus  was  the  son  of  Silvius,  and  he  of  Ascanius,  the 
son  of  /Eneas,  whose  flight  from  Troy  and  settlement 
in  Italy  are  narrated  in  "Stories  of  Gods  and  Heroes  " 

Brutus,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  attending  his  father  to 
the  chase,  unfortunately  killed  him  with  an  arrow.  Ban- 
ished therefor  by  his  kindred,  he  sought  refuge  in  that 
part  of  Greece  where  Helenus,  with  a  band  of  Trojan 
exiles,  had  become  established.  But  Helenus  was  now 
dead  and  the  descendants  of  the  Trojans  were  oppressed 
by  Pandrasus,  the  king  of  the  country.  Brutus,  being 
kindly  received  among  them,  so  throve  in  virtue  and 
in  arms  as  to  win  the  regard  of  all  the  eminent  of  the 
land  above  all  others  of  his  age.  In  consequence  of  this 
the  Trojans  not  only  began  to  hope,  but  secretly  to 
persuade  him  to  lead  them  the  way  to  liberty.  To  en- 
courage them,  they  had  the  promise  of  help  from  As- 
saracus,  a  noble  Greek  youth,  whose  mother  was  a 
Troian.  He  had  suffered  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the 


380      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

king,  and  for  that  reason  the  more  willingly  cast  in  his 
lost  with  the  Trojan  exiles. 

Choosing  a  fit  opportunity,  Brutus  with  his  country- 
men withdrew  to  the  woods  and  hills,  as  the  safest  place 
from  which  to  expostulate,  and  sent  this  message  to 
Pandrasus:  "That  the  Trojans,  holding  it  unworthy  of 
their  ancestors  to  serve  in  a  foreign  land,  had  retreated 
to  the  woods,  choosing  rather  a  savage  life  than  a  slav- 
ish one.  If  that  displeased  him,  then,  with  his  leave, 
they  would  depart  to  some  other  country."  Pandrasus, 
not  expecting  so  bold  a  message  from  the  sons  of 
captives,  went  in  pursuit  of  them,  with  such  forces  as 
he  could  gather,  and  met  them  on  the  banks  of  the 
Achelpus,  where  Brutus  got  the  advantage,  and  took 
the  king  captive.  The  result  was,  that  the  terms  de- 
manded by  the  Trojans  were  granted;  the  king  gave 
his  daughter  Imogen  in  marriage  to  Brutus,  and  fur- 
nished shipping,  money,  and  fit  provision  for  them  all 
to  depart  from  the  land. 

The  marriage  being  solemnized,  and  shipping  from  all 
parts  got  together,  the  Trojans,  in  a  fleet  of  no  less 
than  three  hundred  and  twenty  sail,  betook  themselves 
to  the  sea.  On  the  third  day  they  arrived  at  a  certain 
island,  which  they  found  destitute  of  inhabitants,  though 
there  were  appearances  of  former  habitation,  and  among 
the  ruins  a  temple  of  Diana.  Brutus,  here  performing 
sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of  the  goddess,  invoked  an  oracle 
for  his  guidance,  in  these  lines: 

"Goddess  of  shades,  and  huntress,  who  at  will 
Walk'st  on  the  rolling  sphere,  and  through  the  deep; 
On  thy  third  realm,  the  earth,  look  now,  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest,  thou  bidd'st  me  seek; 
What  certain  seat  where  I  may  worship  thee 
For  aye,  with  temples  vowed  and  virgin  choirs." 

To  whom,  sleeping  before  the  altar,  Diana  in  a  vision 
thus  answered : 

"Brutus!  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide, 
Beyond  the  realm  of  Gaul,  a  land  there  lies, 
Seagirt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  old; 
Now,  void,  it  fits  thy  people:  thither  bend 


MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND        381~ 

Thy  course;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  seat; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise, 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  awe  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold." 

Brutus,  guided  now,  as  he  thought,  by  divine  direc- 
tion, sped  his  course  towards  the  west,  and,  arriving  at 
a  place  on  the  Tyrrhene  sea,  found  there  the  descend- 
ants of  certain  Trojans  who,  with  Antenor,  came  into 
Italy,  of  whom  Corineus  was  the  chief.  These  joined 
company,  and  the  ships  pursued  their  way  till  they  ar- 
rived at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Loire,  in  France,  where 
the  expedition  landed,  with  a  view  to  a  settlement,  but 
were  so  rudely  assaulted  by  the  inhabitants  that  they 
put  to  sea  again,  and  arrived  at  a  part  of  the  coast  of 
Britain,  now  called  Devonshire,  where  Brutus  felt  con- 
vinced that  he  had  found  the  promised  end  of  his  voy- 
age, landed  his  colony,  and  took  possession. 

The  island,  not  yet  Britain,  but  Albion,  was  in  a  man- 
ner desert  and  inhospitable,  occupied  only  by  a  remnant 
of  the  giant  race  whose  excessive  force  and  tyranny 
had  destroyed  the  others.  The  Trojans  encountered 
these  and  extirpated  them,  Corineus,  in  particular,  sig- 
nalizing himself  by  his  exploits  against  them;  from 
whom  Cornwall  takes  its  name,  for  that  region  fell  to 
his  lot,  and  there  the  hugest  giants  dwelt,  lurking  in 
rocks  and  caves,  till  Corineus  rid  the  land  of  them. 

Brutus  built  his  capital  city,  and  called  it  Trojanova 
(New  Troy),  changed  in  time  to  Trinovantus,  now  Lon- 
don j1  and,  having  governed  the  isle  twenty-four  years, 
died,  leaving  three  sons,  Locrine,  Albanact  and  Camber. 
Locrine  had  the  middle  part,  Camber  the  west,  called 
Cambria  from  him,  and  Albanact  Albania,  now  Scotland. 
Locrine  was  married  to  Guendolen,  the  daughter  of 
Corineus,  but  having  seen  a  fair  maid  named  Estriidis, 
who  had  been  brought  captive  from  Germany,  he  be- 
came enamoured  of  her,  and  had  by  her  a  daughter, 
whose  name  was  Sabra.  This  matter  was  kept  secret 
while  Corineus  lived,  but  after  his  death  Locrine  di- 

1  "For  noble  Britons  sprong  from  Trojans  bold, 
And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troy's  ashes  cold." 

SPENSER,   Book  III.,   Canto   IX.,   38. 


382      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

vorced  Guendolen,  and  made  Estrildis  his  queen.  Guen- 
dolen,  all  in  rage,  departed  to  Cornwall,  where  Madan, 
her  son,  lived,  who  had  been  brought  up  by  Corineus, 
his  grandfather.  Gathering  an  army  of  her  father's 
friends  and  subjects,  she  gave  battle  to  her  husband's 
forces  and  Locrine  was  slain.  Guendolen  caused  her 
rival,  Estrildis,  with  her  daughter  Sabra,  to  be  thrown 
into  the  river,  from  which  cause  the  river  thenceforth 
bore  the  maiden's  name,  which  by  length  of  time  is  now 
changed  into  Sabrina  or  Severn.  Milton  alludes  to  this 
in  his  address  to  the  rivers, — 

"Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death"; — 

and  in  his  "Comus"  tells  the  story  with  a  slight  varia- 
tion, thus : 

"There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream ; 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure : 
Whilom  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father,  Brute, 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  step-dame,  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 
That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  played, 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall, 
Who,  piteous  of  her  woes,  reared  her  lank  head, 
And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathe 
In  nectared  lavers  strewed  with  asphodel, 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 
Dropped  in  ambrosial  oils  till  she  revived, 
And  underwent  a  quick,  immortal  change, 
Made  goddess  of  the  river,"  etc. 

If  our  readers  ask  when  all  this  took  place,  we  must 
answer,  in  the  first  place,  that  mythology  is  not  care- 
ful of  dates;  and  next,  that,  as  Brutus  was  the  great- 
grandson  of  ^neas,  it  must  have  been  not  far  from  a 
century  subsequent  to  the  Trojan  war,  or  about  eleven 
hundred  years  before  the  invasion  of  the  island  by  Julius 
Caesar.  This  long  interval  is  filled  with  the  names  of 
princes  whose  chief  occupation  was  in  warring  with  one 


MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND      383 

another.      Some   few,   whose  names   remain   connected 
with  places,  or  embalmed  in  literature,  we  will  mention. 


BLADUD 

Bladud  built  the  city  of  Bath,  and  dedicated  the 
medicinal  waters  to  Minerva.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
invention,  and  practised  the  arts  of  magic,  till,  having 
made  him  wings  to  fly,  he  fell  down  upon  the  temple 
of  Apollo,  in  Trinovant,  and  so  died,  after  twenty  years' 
reign. 

LEIR 

Leir,  who  next  reigned,  built  Leicester,  and  called  it 
after  his  name.  He  had  no  male  issue,  but  only  three 
daughters.  When  grown  old  he  determined  to  divide 
his  kingdom  among  his  daughters,  and  bestow  them  in 
marriage.  But  first,  to  try  which  of  them  loved  him 
best,  he  determined  to  ask  them  solemnly  in  order,  and 
judge  of  the  warmth  of  their  affection  by  their  answers. 
Goneril,  the  eldest,  knowing  well  her  father's  weakness, 
made  answer  that  she  loved  him  "above  her  soul." 
"Since  thou  so  honorest  my  declining  age,"  said  the 
old  man,  "to  thee  and  to  thy  husband  I  give  the  third 
part  of  my  realm."  Such  good  success  for  a  few  words 
soon  uttered  was  ample  instruction  to  Regan,  the  second 
daughter,  what  to  say.  She  therefore  to  the  same  ques- 
tion replied  that  "she  loved  him  more  than  all  the  world 
beside ;"  and  so  received  an  equal  reward  with  her  sis- 
ter. But  Cordeilla,  the  youngest,  and  hitherto  the  best 
beloved,  though  having  before  her  eyes  the  reward  of  a 
little  easy  soothing,  and  the  loss  likely  to  attend  plain- 
dealing,  yet  was  not  moved  from  the  solid  purpose  of 
a  sincere  and  virtuous  answer,  and  replied :  "Father,  my 
love  towards  you  is  as  my  duty  bids.  They  who  pre- 
tend beyond  this  flatter."  When  the  old  man,  sorry  to 
hear  this,  and  wishing  her  to  recall  these  words,  per- 
sisted in  asking,  she  still  restrained  her  expressions  so  as 
to  say  rather  less  than  more  than  the  truth.  Then  Leir, 
all  in  a  passion,  burst  forth:  "Since  thou  hast  not  rev- 
erenced thy  aged  father  like  thy  sisters,  think  not  to 


J84      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

have  any  part  in  my  kingdom  or  what  else  I  have;" — 
and  without  delay,  giving  in  marriage  his  other  daugh- 
ters, Goneril  to  the  Duke  of  Albany,  and  Regan  to  the 
Duke  of  Cornwall,  he  divides  his  kingdom  between 
them,  and  goes  to  reside  with  his  eldest  daughter,  at- 
tended only  by  a  hundred  knights.  But  in  a  short  time 
his  attendants,  being  complained  of  as  too  numerous 
and  disorderly,  are  reduced  to  thirty.  Resenting  that 
affront,  the  old  king  betakes  him  to  his  second  daughter ; 
but  she,  instead  of  soothing  his  wounded  pride,  takes 
part  with  her  sister,  and  refuses  to  admit  a  retinue  of 
more  than  five.  Then  back  he  returns  to  the  other,  who 
now  will  not  receive  him  with  more  than  one  attendant. 
Then  the  remembrance  of  Cordeilla  comes  to  his 
thoughts,  and  he  takes  his  journey  into  France  to  seek 
her,  with  little  hope  of  kind  consideration  from  one 
whom  he  had  so  injured,  but  to  pay  her  the  last  recom- 
pense he  can  render, — confession  of  his  injustice.  When 
Cordeilla  is  informed  of  his  approach,  and  of  his  sad 
condition,  she  pours  forth  true  filial  tears.  And,  not 
willing  that  her  own  or  others'  eyes  should  see  him  in 
that  forlorn  condition,  she  sends  one  of  her  trusted 
servants  to  meet  him,  and  convey  him  privately  to  some 
comfortable  abode,  and  to  furnish  him  with  such  state 
as  befitted  his  dignity.  After  which  Cordeilla,  with  the 
king  her  husband,  went  in  state  to  meet  him,  and,  after 
an  honorable  reception,  the  king  permitted  Jiis  wife, 
Cordeilla,  to  go  with  an  army  and  set  her  father  again 
upon  his  throne.  They  prospered,  subdued  the  wicked 
sisters  and  their  consorts,  and  Leir  obtained  the  crown 
and  held  it  three  years.  Cordeilla  succeeded  him  and 
reigned  five  years;  but  the  sons  of  her  sisters,  after 
that,  rebelled  against  her,  and  she  lost  both  her  crown 
and  life. 

Shakspeare  has  chosen  this  story  as  the  subject  of 
his  tragedy  of  "King  Lear,"  varying  its  details  in  some 
respects.  The  madness  of  Leir,  and  the  ill  success  of 
Cordeilla's  attempt  to  reinstate  her  father,  are  the  prin- 
cipal variations,  and  those  in  the  names  will  also  be 
noticed.  Our  narrative  is  drawn  from  Milton's  "His- 
tory;" and  thus  the  reader  will  perceive  that  the  story 


MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND     385 

of  Leir  has  had  the  distinguished  honor  of  being  told 
by  the  two  acknowledged  chiefs  of  British  literature. 

FERREX    AND    PORREX 

Ferrex  and  Porrex  were  brothers,  who  held  the  king- 
dom after  Leir.  They  quarrelled  about  the  supremacy, 
and  Porrex  expelled  his  brother,  who,  obtaining  aid 
from  Suard,  king  of  the  Franks,  returned  and  made 
war  upon  Porrex.  Ferrex  was  slain  in  battle  and  his 
forces  dispersed.  When  their  mother  came  to  hear  of 
her  .son's  death,  who  was  her  favorite,  she  fell  into  a 
great  rage,  and  conceived  a  mortal  hatred  against  the 
survivor.  She  took,  therefore,  her  opportunity  when  he 
was  asleep,  fell  upon  him,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
her  women,  tore  him  in  pieces.  This  horrid  story  would 
not  be  worth  relating,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  it 
has  furnished  the  plot  for  the  first  tragedy  which  was 
written  in  the  English  language.  It  was  entitled  "Gor- 
boduc,"  but  in  the  second  edition  "Ferrex  and  Porrex," 
and  was  the  production  of  Thomas  Sackville,  afterwards 
Earl  of  Dorset,  and  Thomas  Norton,  a  barrister.  Its 
date  was  1561. 

DUNWALLO  MOLMUTIUS 

This  is  the  next  name  of  note.  Molmutius  established 
the  Molmutine  laws,  which  bestowed  the  privilege  of 
sanctuary  on  temples,  cities,  and  the  roads  leading  to 
them,  and  gave  the  same  protection  to  ploughs,  extend- 
ing a  religious  sanction  to  the  labors  of  the  field. 
Shakspeare  alludes  to  him  in  "Cymbeline,"  Act  III., 
Scene  1 : 

".  .  .  Molmutius  made  our  laws; 
Who  was  the  first  of  Britain  which  did  put 
His  brows  within  a  golden  crown,  and  called 
Himself  a  king." 

BRENNUS   AND   BELINUS, 

the  sons  of  Molmutius,  succeeded  him.  They  quar- 
relled, and  Brennus  was  driven  out  of  the  island,  and 
took  refuge  in  Gaul,  where  he  met  with  such  favor 


386      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

from  the  king  of  the  Allobroges  that  he  gave  him  his 
daughter  in  marriage,  and  made  him  his  partner  on  the 
throne.  Brennus  is  the  name  which  the  Roman  histo- 
rians give  to  the  famous  leader  of  the  Gauls  who  took 
Rome  in  the  time  of  Camillus.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth 
claims  the  glory  of  the  conquest  for  the  British  prince, 
after  he  had  become  king  of  the  Allobroges. 

ELIDURE 

After  Belinus  and  Brennus  there  reigned  several  kings 
of  little  note,  and  then  came  Elidure.  Arthgallo,  his 
brother,  being  king,  gave  great  offence  to  his  powerful 
nobles,  who  rose  against  him,  deposed  him,  and  advanced 
Elidure  to  the  throne.  Arthgallo  fled,  and  endeavored 
to  find  assistance  in  the  neighboring  kingdoms  to  rein- 
state him,  but  found  none.  Elidure  reigned  prosper- 
ously and  wisely.  After  five  years'  possession  of  the 
kingdom,  one  day,  when  hunting,  he  met  in  the  forest 
his  brother,  Arthgallo,  who  had  been  deposed.  After 
long  wandering,  unable  longer  to  bear  the  poverty  to 
which  he  was  reduced,  he  had  returned  to  Britain,  with 
only  ten  followers,  designing  to  repair  to  those  who  had 
formerly  been  his  friends.  Elidure,  at  the  sight  of  his 
brother  in  distress,  forgetting  all  animosities,  ran  to 
him,  and  embraced  him.  He  took  Arthgallo  home  with 
him,  and  concealed  him  in  the  palace.  After  this  he 
feigned  himself*  sick,  and,  calling  his  nobles  about  him, 
induced  them,  partly  by  persuasion,  partly  by  force,  to 
consent  to  his  abdicating  the  kingdom,  and  reinstating 
his  brother  on  the  throne.  The  agreement  being  ratified, 
Elidure  took  the  crown  from  his  own  head,  and  put  it 
on  his  brother's  head.  Arthgallo  after  this  reigned  ten 
years,  well  and  wisely,  exercisng  strict  justice  towards 
all  men. 

He  died,  and  left  the  kingdom  to  his  sons,  who  reigned 
with  various  fortunes,  but  were  not  long-lived,  and  left 
no  offspring,  so  that  Elidure  was  again  advanced  to  the 
throne,  and  finished  the  course  of  his  life  in  just  and 
virtuous  actions,  receiving  the  name  of  the  pious,  from 
the  love  and  admiration  of  his  subjects. 


MYTHICAL  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND     387 

Wordsworth  has  taken  the  story  of  Artegal  and  Eli- 
dure  for  the  subject  of  a  poem,  which  is  No.  2  of 
"Poems  founded  on  the  Affections/' 


LUD 

After  Elidure,  the  Chronicle  names  many  kings,  but 
none  of  special  note,  till  we  come  to  Lud,  who  greatly 
enlarged  Trinovant,  his  capital,  and  surrounded  it  with 
a  wall.  He  changed  its  name,  bestowing  upon  it  his 
own,  so  that  henceforth  it  was  called  Lud's  town,  after- 
wards London.  Lud  was  buried  by  the  gate  of  the  city 
called  after  him  Ludgate.  He  had  two  sons,  but  they 
were  not  old  enough  at  the  time  of  their  father's  death 
to  sustain  the  cares  of  government,  and  therefore  their 
uncle,  Caswallaun,  or  Cassibellaunus,  succeeded  to  the 
kingdom.  He  was  a  brave  and  magnificent  prince,  so 
that  his  fame  reached  to  distant  countries. 


CASSIBELLAUNUS 

About  this  time  it  happened  (as  is  found  in  the 
Roman  histories)  that  Julius  Caesar,  having  subdued 
Gaul,  came  to  the  shore  opposite  Britain.  And  having 
resolved  to  add  this  island  also  to  his  conquests,  he  pre- 
pared ships  and  transported  his  army  across  the  sea,  to 
the  mouth  of  the  River  Thames.  Here  he  was  met  by 
Cassibellaun  with  all  his  forces,  and  a  battle  ensued,  in 
which  Nennius,  the  brother  of  Cassibellaun,  engaged  in 
single  combat  with  Caesar.  After  several  furious  blows 
given  and  received,  the  sword  of  Caesar  stuck  so  fast  in 
the  shield  of  Nennius  that  it  could  not  be  pulled  out,  and 
the  combatants  being  separated  by  the  intervention  of 
the  troops  Nennius  remained  possessed  of  this  trophy. 
At  last,  after  the  greater  part  of  the  day  was  spent,  the 
Britons  poured  in  so  fast  that  Caesar  was  forced  to  retire 
to  his  camp  and  fleet.  And  finding  it  useless  to  continue 
the  war  any  longer  at  that  time,  he  returned  to  Gaul. 

Shakspeare  alludes  to  Cassibellaunus,  in  "Cymbe- 
line": 


388      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"The  famed  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(O  giglot  fortune!)  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright, 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage." 

KYMBELINUS,  OR  CYMBELINE 

Caesar,  on  a  second  invasion  of  the  island,  was  more 
fortunate,  and  compelled  the  Britons  to  pay  tribute. 
Cymbeline,  the  nephew  of  the  king,  was  delivered  to 
the  Romans  as  a  hostage  for  the  faithful  fulfilment  of 
the  treaty,  and,  being  carried  to  Rome  by  Caesar,  he  was 
there  brought  up  in  the  Roman  arts  and  accomplish- 
ments. Being  afterwards  restored  to  his  country,  and 
placed  on  the  throne,  he  was  attached  to  the  Romans, 
and  continued  through  all  his  reign  at  peace  with  them. 
His  sons,  Guiderius  and  Arviragus,  who  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  Shakspeare's  play  of  "Cymbeline,"  suc- 
ceeded their  father,  and,  refusing  to  pay  tribute  to  the 
Romans,  brought  on  another  invasion.  Guiderius  was 
slain,  but  Arviragus  afterward  made  terms  with  the 
Romans,  and  reigned  prosperously  many  years. 

ARMORICA 

The  next  event  of  note  is  the  conquest  and  coloniza- 
tion of  Armorica,  by  Maximus,  a  Roman  general,  and 
Conan,  lord  of  Miniadoc  or  Denbigh-land,  in  Wales. 
The  name  of  the  country  was  changed  to  Brittany,  or 
Lesser  Britain;  and  so  completely  was  it  possessed  by 
the  British  colonists,  that  the  language  became  assimi- 
lated to  that  spoken  in  Wales,  and  it  is  said  that  to  this 
day  the  peasantry  of  the  two  countries  can  understand 
each  other  when  speaking  their  native  language. 

The  Romans  eventually  succeeded  in  establishing 
themselves  in  the  island,  and  after  the  lapse  of  several 
generations  they  became  blended  with  the  natives  so  that 
no  distinction  existed  between  the  two  races.  When  at 
length  the  Roman  armies  were  withdrawn  from  Britain, 
their  departure  was  a  matter  of  regret  to  the  inhabitants, 
as  it  left  them  without  protection  against  the  barbarous 
tribes,  Scots,  Picts,  and  Norwegians,  who  harassed  the 


MERLIN  389 

country  incessantly.    This  was  the  state  of  things  when 
the  era  of  King  Arthur  began. 

The  adventure  of  Albion,  the  giant,  with  Hercules  is 
alluded  to  by  Spenser,  "Faery  Queene,"  Book  IV., 
Canto  xi : 

"For  Albion  the  son  of  Neptune  was ; 
Who  for  the  proof  of  his  great  puissance, 
Out  of  his  Albion  did  on  dry  foot  pass 
Into  old  Gaul  that  now  is  cleped  France, 
To  fight  with  Hercules,  that  did  advance 
To  vanquish  all  the  world  with  matchless  might: 
And  there  his  mortal  part  by  great  mischance 
Was  slain." 


CHAPTER  III 

MERLIN 

MERLIN  was  the  son  of  no  mortal  father,  but  of  an 
Incubus,  one  of  a  class  of  beings  not  absolutely  wicked, 
but  far  from  good,  who  inhabit  the  regions  of  the  air. 
Merlin's  mother  was  a  virtuous  young  woman,  who,  on 
the  birth  of  her  son,  intrusted  him  to  a  priest,  who 
hurried  him  to  the  baptismal  fount,  and  so  saved  him 
from  sharing  the  lot  of  his  father,  though  he  retained 
many  marks  of  his  unearthly  origin. 

At  this  time  Vortigern  reigned  in  Britain.  He  was  a 
usurper,  who  had  caused  the  death  of  his  sovereign, 
Moines,  and  driven  the  two  brothers  of  the  late  king, 
whose  names  were  Uther  and  Pendragon,  into  banish- 
ment. Vortigern,  who  lived  in  constant  fear  of  the  re- 
turn of  the  rightful  heirs  of  the  kingdom,  began  to  erect 
a  strong  tower  for  defence.  The  edifice,  when  brought 
by  the  workmen  to  a  certain  height,  three  times  fell  to 
the  ground,  without  any  apparent  cause.  The  king  con- 
sulted his  astrologers  on  this  wonderful  event,  and 
learned  from  them  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
bathe  the  corner-stone  of  the  foundation  with  the  blood 
of  a  child  born  without  a  mortal  father. 

In  search  of  such  an  infant,  Vortigern  sent  his  tnes- 


390      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

sengers  all  over  the  kingdom,  and  they  by  accident  dis- 
covered Merlin,  whose  lineage  seemed  to  point  him  out 
as  the  individual  wanted.  They  took  him  to  the  king; 
but  Merlin,  young  as  he  was,  explained  to  the  king  the 
absurdity  of  attempting  to  rescue  the  fabric  by  such 
means,  for  he  told  him  the  true  cause  of  the  instability 
of  the  tower  was  its  being  placed  over  the  den  of  two 
immense  dragons,  whose  combats  shook  the  earth  above 
them.  The  king  ordered  his  workmen  to  dig  beneath  the 
tower,  and  when  they  had  done  so  they  discovered  two 
enormous  serpents,  the  one  white  as  milk  the  other  red 
as  fire.  The  multitude  looked  on  with  amazement,  till 
the  serpents,  slowly  rising  from  their  den,  and  expand- 
ing their  enormous  folds,  began  the  combat,  when  every 
one  fled  in  terror,  except  Merlin,  who  stood  by  clapping 
his  hands  and  cheering  on  the  conflict.  The  red  dragon 
was  slain,  and  the  white  one,  gliding  through  a  cleft  in 
the  rock,  disappeared. 

These  animals  typified,  as  Merlin  afterwards  ex- 
plained, the  invasion  of  Uther  and  Pendragon,  the 
rightful  princes,  who  soon  after  landed  with  a  great 
army.  Vortigern  was  defeated,  and  afterwards  burned 
alive  in  the  castle  he  had  taken  such  pains  to  construct. 
On  the  death  of  Vortigern,  Pendragon  ascended  the 
throne.  Merlin  became  his  chief  adviser,  and  often 
assisted  the  king  by  his  magical  arts. 

"Merlin,  who  knew  the  range  of  all  their  arts, 
Had  built  the  King  his  havens,  ships  and  halls." 

— Vivian. 

Among  other  endowments,  he  had  the  power  of  trans- 
forming himself  into  any  shape  he  pleased.  At  one  time 
he  appeared  as  a  dwarf,  at  others  as  a  damsel,  a  page, 
or  even  a  greyhound  or  a  stag.  This  faculty  he  often 
employed  for  the  service  of  the  king,  and  sometimes 
also  for  the  diversion  of  the  court  and  the  sovereign. 

Merlin  continued  to  be  a  favorite  counsellor  through 
the  reigns  of  Pendragon,  Uther,  and  Arthur,  and  at  last 
disappeared  from  view,  and  was  no  more  found  among 
men,  through  the  treachery  of  his  mistress,  Viviane.  the 
Fairy,  which  happened  in«this  wise. 


MERLIN  391 

Merlin,  having  become  enamoured  of  the  fair  Viviane, 
the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  was  weak  enough  to  impart  to 
her  various  important  secrets  of  his  art,  being  impelled 
by  fatal  destiny,  of  which  he  was  at  the  same  time  fully 
aware.  The  lady,  however,  was  not  content  with  his 
devotion,  unbounded  as  it  seems  to  have  been,  but  "cast 
about,"  the  Romance  tells  us,  how  she  might  "detain  him 
for  evermore,"  and  one  day  addressed  him  in  these 
terms :  "Sir,  I  would  that  we  should  make  a  fair  place 
and  a  suitable,  so  contrived  by  art  and  by  cunning  that 
it  might  never  be  undone,  and  that  you  and  I  should  be 
there  in  joy  and  solace."  "My  lady,"  said  Merlin,  "I 
will  do  all  this."  "Sir,"  said  she,  "I  would  not  have  you 
do  it,  but  you  shall  teach  me,  and  I  will  do  it,  and  then 
it  will  be  more  to  my  mind."  "I  grant  you  this,"  said 
Merlin.  Then  he  began  to  devise,  and  the  damsel  put  it 
all  in  writing.  And  when  he  had  devised  the  whole, 
then  had  the  damsel  full  great  joy,  and  showed  him 
greater  semblance  of  love  than  she  had  ever  before  made, 
and  they  sojourned  together  a  long  while.  At  length  it 
fell  out  that,  as  they  were  going  one  day  hand  in  hand 
through  the  forest  of  Breceliande,  they  found  a  bush  of 
white-thorn,  which  was  laden  with  flowers ;  and  they 
seated  themselves  under  the  shade  of  this  white-thorn, 
upon  the  green  grass,  and  Merlin  laid  his  head  upon  the 
damsel's  lap,  and  fell  asleep.  Then  the  damsel  rose,  and 
made  a  ring  with  her  wimple  round  the  bush,  and  round 
Merlin,  and  began  her  enchantments,  such  as  he  himself 
had  taught  her ;  and  nine  times  she  made  the  ring,  and 
nine  times  she  made  the  enchantment,  and  then  she  went 
and  sat  down  by  him,  and  placed  his  head  again  upon 
her  lap. 

"And  a  sleep 

Fell  upon  Merlin  more  like  death,  so  deep 
Her  finger  on  her  lips ;  then  Vivian  rose, 
And  from  her  brown-locked  head  the  wimple  throws, 
And  takes  it  in  her  hand  and  waves  it  over 
The  blossomed  thorn  tree  and  her  sleeping  lover. 
Nine  times  she  waved  the  fluttering  wimple  round, 
And  made  a  little  plot  of  magic  ground." 

— Matthew  Arnold. 


392      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

And  when  he  awoke,  and  looked  round  him,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  enclosed  in  the  strongest  tower  in 
the  world,  and  laid  upon  a  fair  bed.  Then  said  he  to 
the  dame:  "My  lady,  you  have  deceived  me,  unless  you 
abide  with  me,  for  no  one  hath  power  to  unmake  this 
tower  but  you  alone."  She  then  promised  she  would  be 
often  there,  and  in  this  she  held  her  covenant  with  him. 
And  Merlin  never  went  out  of  that  tower  where  his  Mis- 
tress Viviane  had  enclosed  him;  but  she  entered  and 
went  out  again  when  she  listed. 

After  this  event  Merlin  was  never  more  known  to  hold 
converse  with  any  mortal  but  Viviane,  except  on  one 
occasion.  Arthur,  having  for  some  time  missed  him 
from  his  court,  sent  several  of  his  knights  in  search  of 
him,  and,  among  the  number,  Sir  Gawain,  who  met  with 
a  very  unpleasant  adventure  while  engaged  in  this  quest. 
Happening  to  pass  a  damsel  on  his  road,  and  neglecting 
to  salute  her,  she  revenged  herself  for  his  incivility  by 
transforming  him  into  a  hideous  dwarf.  He  was  be- 
wailing aloud  his  evil  fortune  as  he  went  through  the 
forest  of  Breceliande,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the  voice 
of  one  groaning  on  his  right  hand;  and,  looking  that 
way,  he  could  see  nothing  save  a  kind  of  smoke,  which 
seemed  like  air,  and  through  which  he  could  not  pass. 
Merlin  then  addressed  him  from  out  the  smoke,  and  told 
him  by  what  misadventure  he  was  imprisoned  there. 
"Ah,  sir!"  he  added,  "you  will  never  see  me  more,  and 
that  grieves  me,  but  I  cannot  remedy  it;  I  shall  never 
more  speak  to  you,  nor  to  any  other  person,  save  only 
my  mistress.  But  do  thou  hasten  to  King  Arthur,  and 
charge  him  from  me  to  undertake,  without  delay,  the 
quest  of  the  Sacred  Graal.  The  knight  is  already  born, 
and  has  received  knighthood  at  his  hands,  who  is  des- 
tined to  accomplish  this  quest."  And  after  this  he  com- 
forted Gawain  under  his  transformation,  assuring  him 
that  he  should  speedily  be  disenchanted;  and  he  pre- 
dicted to  him  that  he  should  find  the  king  at  Carduel,  in 
Wales,  on  his  return,  and  that  all  the  other  knights  who 
had  been  on  like  quest  would  arrive  there  the  same  day 
as  himself.  And  all  this  came  to  pass  as  Merlin  had 
said. 


MERLIN  393 

Merlin  is  frequently  introduced  in  the  tales  of  chiv- 
alry, but  it  is  chiefly  on  great  occasions,  and  at  a  period 
subsequent  to  his  death,  or  magical  disappearance.  In 
the  romantic  poems  of  Italy,  and  in  Spenser,  Merlin 
is  chiefly  represented  as  a  magical  artist.  Spenser  rep- 
resents him  as  the  artificer  of  the  impenetrable  shield 
and  other  armor  of  Prince  Arthur  ("Faery  Queene," 
Book  L,  Canto  vii.),  and  of  a  mirror,  in  which  a  damsel 
viewed  her  lover's  shade.  The  Fountain  of  Love,  in 
the  "Orlando  Innamorata,"  is  described  as  his  work ; 
and  in  the  poem  of  "Ariosto"  we  are  told  of  a  hall 
adorned  with  prophetic  paintings,  which  demons  had  ex- 
ecuted in  a  single  night,  under  the  direction  of  Merlin. 

The  following  legend  is  from  Spenser's  "Faery 
Queene,"  Book  III.,  Canto  iii. : 

CAER-MERDIN,  OR  CAERMARTHEN    (iN  WALES),   MERLIN'S  TOWER,  AND 
THE   IMPRISONED   FIENDS. 

"Forthwith  themselves  disguising  both,  in  straunge 
And  base  attire,  that  none  might  them  bewray, 
To  Maridimum,  that  is  now  by  chaunge 
Of  name  Caer-Merdin  called,  they  took  their  way: 
There  the  wise  Merlin  whylome  wont  (they  say) 
To  make  his  wonne,  low  underneath  the  ground 
In  a  deep  delve,  far  from  the  view  of  day, 
That  of  no  living  wight  he  mote  be  found, 
Whenso  he  counselled  with  his  sprights  encompassed  round. 

"And  if  thou  ever  happen  that  same  way 
To  travel,  go  to  see  that  dreadful  place; 
It  is  a  hideous  hollow  cave  (they  say) 
Under  a  rock  that  lies  a  little  space 
From  the  swift  Barry,  tombling  down  apace 
Amongst  the  woody  hills  of  Dynevor; 
But  dare  not  thou,  I  charge,  in  any  case, 
To  enter  into  that  same  baleful  bower, 
For  fear  the  cruel  fiends  should  thee  unwares  devour. 

"But  standing  high  aloft,  low  lay  thine  ear, 
And  there  such  ghastly  noise  of  iron  chains 
And  brazen  cauldrons  thou  shalt  rumbling  hear, 
Which  thousand  sprites  with  long  enduring  pains 
Do  toss,  that  it  will  stun  thy  feeble  brains; 
And  oftentimes  great  groans,  and  grievous  stounds, 
When  too  huge  toil  and  labor  them  constrains ; 
And  oftentimes  loud  strokes  and  ringing  sounds 
From  under  that  deep  rock  most  horribly  rebounds. 


394      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"The  cause  some  say  is  this.     A  little  while 
Before  that  Merlin  died,  he  did  intend 
A  brazen  wall  in  compas  to  compile 
About  Caermerdin,  and  did  it  commend 
Unto  these  sprites  to  bring  to  perfect  end; 
During  which  work  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
Whom  long  he  loved,  for  him  in  haste  did  send; 
Who,  thereby  forced  his  workmen  to  forsake, 
Them  bound  till  his  return  their  labor  not  to  slack. 

"In  the  mean  time,  through  that  false  lady's  train, 
He  was  surprised,  and  buried  under  beare,1 
Ne  ever  to  his  work  returned  again ; 
Nathless  those  fiends  may  not  their  work  forbear, 
So  greatly  his  commandement  they  fear; 
But  there  do  toil  and  travail  day  and  night, 
Until  that  brazen  wall  they  up  do  rear. 
For  Merlin  had  in  magic  more  insight 
Than  ever  him  before  or  after  living  wight." 


CHAPTER  IV 

ARTHUR 

WE  shall  begin  our  history  of  King  Arthur  by  giving 
those  particulars  of  his  life  which  appear  to  rest  on  his- 
torical evidence;  and  then  proceed  to  record  those  leg- 
ends concerning  him  which  form  the  earliest  portion  of 
British  literature. 

Arthur  was  a  prince  of  the  tribe  of  Britons  called 
Silures,  whose  country  was  South  Wales,  the  son  of 
Uther,  named  Pendragon,  a  title  given  to  an  elective  sov- 
ereign, paramount  over  the  many  kings  of  Britain.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  commenced  his  martial  career  about  the 
year  500,  and  was  raised  to  the  Pendragonship  about  ten 
years  later.  He  is  said  to  have  gained  twelve  victories 
over  the  Saxons.  The  most  important  of  them  was  that 
of  Badon,  by  some  supposed  to  be  Bath,  by  others  Berk- 
shire. This  was  the  last  of  his  battles  with  the  Saxons, 
and  checked  their  progress  so  effectually,  that  Arthur 
experienced  no  more  annoyance  from  them,  and  reigned 

1  Buried  under  beare.  Buried  under  something  which  enclosed  him  like 
a  coffin  or  bier. 


ARTHUR  395 

in  peace,  until  the  revolt  of  his  nephew  Modred,  twenty 
years  later,  which  led  to  the  fatal  battle  of  Camlan,  in 
Cornwall,  in  542.  Modred  was  slain,  and  Arthur,  mor- 
tally wounded,  was  conveyed  by  sea  to  Glastonbury, 
where  he  died,  and  was  buried.  Tradition  preserved 
the  memory  of  the  place  of  his  interment  within  the 
abbey,  as  we  are  told  by  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  who 
was  present  when  the  grave  was  opened  by  command  of 
Henry  II.  about  1150,  and  saw  the  bones  and  sword  of 
the  monarch,  and  a  leaden  cross  let  into  his  tombstone, 
with  the  inscription  in  rude  Roman  letters,  "Here  lies 
buried  the  famous  King  Arthur,  in  the  island  Avalonia." 
This  story  has  been  elegantly  versified  by  Warton.  A 
popular  traditional  belief  was  long  entertained  among 
the  Britons,  that  Arthur  was  not  dead,  but  had  been 
carried  off  to  be  healed  of  his  wounds  in  Fairy-land,  and 
that  he  would  reappear  to  avenge  his  countrymen  and 
reinstate  them  in  the  sovereignty  of  Britain.  In  War- 
ton's  "Ode"  a  bard  relates  to  King  Henry  the  tradi- 
tional story  of  Arthur's  death,  and  closes  with  these 
lines. 

"Yet  in  vain  a  paynim  foe 
Armed  with  fate  the  mighty  blow : 
For  when  he  fell,  the  Elfin  queen, 
All  in  secret  and  unseen, 
O'er  the  fainting  hero  threw 
Her  mantle  of  ambrosial  blue, 
And  bade  her  spirits  bear  him  far, 
In  Merlin's  agate-axled  car, 
To  her  green  isle's  enamelled  steep, 
Far  in  the  navel  of  the  deep. 
O'er  his  wounds  she  sprinkled  dew 
From  flowers  that  in  Arabia  grew. 

There  he  reigns  a  mighty  king, 
Thence  to  Britain  shall  return, 
If  right  prophetic  rolls  I  learn, 
Borne  on  victory's  spreading  plume 
His  ancient  sceptre  to  resume, 
His  knightly  table  to  restore, 
And  brave  the  tournaments  of  yore." 

After  this  narration  another  bard  came  forward  who 
recited  a  different  «torv : 


396      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"When  Arthur  bowed  his  haughty  crest, 
No  princess  veiled  in  azure  vest 
Snatched  him,  by  Merlin's  powerful  spell, 
In  groves  of  golden  bliss  to  dwell; 
But  when  he  fell,  with  winged  speed, 
His  champions,  on  a  milk-white  steed, 
From  the  battle's  hurricane, 
Bore  him  to  Joseph's  towered  fane,1 
In  the  fair  vale  of  Avalon; 
There,  with  chanted  orison 
And  the  long  blaze  of  tapers  clear, 
The  stoled  fathers  met  the  bier; 
Through  the  dim  aisles,  in  order  dread 
Of  martial  woe,  the  chief  they  led, 
And  deep  entombed  in  holy  ground, 
Before  the  altar's  solemn  bound." 

It  must  not  be  concealed  that  the  very  existence  of 
Arthur  has  been  denied  by  some.  Milton  says  of  him: 
"As  to  Arthur,  more  renowned  in  songs  and  romances 
than  in  true  stories,  who  he  was,  and  whether  ever  any 
such  reigned  in  Britain,  hath  been  doubted  heretofore, 
and  may  again,  with  good  reason."  Modern  critics,  how- 
ever, admit  that  there  was  a  prince  of  this  name,  and 
find  proof  of  it  in  the  frequent  mention  of  him  in  the 
writings  of  the  Welsh  bards.  But  the  Arthur  of  ro- 
mance, according  to  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welsh  scholar  and  an- 
tiquarian, is  a  mythological  person.  "Arthur,"  he  says, 
"is  the  Great  Bear,  as  the  name  literally  implies  (Arctos, 
Arcturus),  and  perhaps  this  constellation,  being  so  near 
the  pole,  and  visibly  describing  a  circle  in  a  small  space, 
is  the  origin  of  the  famous  Round  Table." 

KING   ARTHUR 

Constans,  king  of  Britain,  had  three  sons,  Moines, 
Ambrosius,  otherwise  called  Uther,  and  Pendragon. 
Moines,  soon  after  his  accession  to  the  crown,  was  van- 
quished by  the  Saxons,  in  consequence  of  the  treachery 

1  Glastonbury  Abbey,  said  to  be  founded  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  in  a 
spot  anciently  called  the  island  or  valley  of  Avalonia. 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Palace  of  Art,"  alludes  to  the  legend  of  Arthur's 
rescue  by  the  Faery  queen,  thus: 

"Or  mythic  Uther's  deeply  wounded  son, 
In  some  fair   space  of  sloping  greems, 
Lay  dozing  in  the  vale  of  Avalon, 
And  watched  by  weeping  queens." 


ARTHUR  397 

of  his  seneschal,  Vortigern,  and  growing  unpopular, 
through  misfortune,  he  was  killed  by  his  subjects,  and 
the  traitor  Vortigern  chosen  in  his  place. 

Vortigern  was  soon  after  defeated  in  a  great  battle  by 
Uther  and  Pendragon,  the  surviving  brothers  of  Moines, 
and  Pendragon  ascended  the  throne. 

This  prince  had  great  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of 
Merlin,  and  made  him  his  chief  adviser.  About  this 
time  a  dreadful  war  arose  between  the  Saxons  and 
Britons.  Merlin  obliged  the  royal  brothers  to  swear 
fidelity  to  each  other,  but  predicted  that  one  of  them 
must  fall  in  the  first  battle.  The  Saxons  were  routed, 
and  Pendragon,  being  slain,  was  succeeded  by  Uther, 
•Hrho  now  assumed  in  addition  to  his  own  name  the  appel- 
lation of  Pendragon. 

Merlin  still  continued  a  favorite  counsellor.  At  the 
request  of  Uther  he  transported  by  magic  art  enormous 
stones  from  Ireland,  to  form  the  sepulchre  of  Pendragon. 
These  stones  constitute  the  monument  now  called  Stone- 
henge,  on  Salisbury  plain. 

Merlin  next  proceeded  to  Carlisle  to  prepare  the 
Round  Table,  at  which  he  seated  an  assemblage  of  the 
great  nobles  of  the  country.  The  companions  admitted 
to  this  high  order  were  bound  by  oath  to  assist  each 
other  at  the  hazard  of  their  own  lives,  to  attempt  singly 
the  most  perilous  adventures,  to  lead,  when  necessary, 
a  life  of  monastic  solitude,  to  fly  to  arms  at  the  first 
summons,  and  never  to  retire  from  battle  till  they  had 
defeated  the  enemy,  unless  night  intervened  and  sepa- 
rated the  combatants. 

Soon  after  this  institution,  the  king  invited  all  his 
barons  to  the  celebration  of  a  great  festival,  which  he 
proposed  holding  annually  at  Carlisle. 

As  the  knights  had  obtained  the  sovereign's  permis- 
sion to  bring  their  ladies  along  with  them,  the  beautiful 
Igerne  accompanied  her  husband,  Gorlois,  Duke  of  Tin- 
tadel,  to  one  of  these  anniversaries.  The  king  became 
deeply  enamoured  of  the  duchess,  and  disclosed  his  pas- 
sion ;  but  Igerne  repelled  his  advances,  and  revealed  his 
solicitations  to  her  husband.  On  hearing  this,  the  duke 
instantly  removed  from  court  with  Igerne,  and  without 


398      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

taking  leave  of  Uther.  The  king  complained  to  his 
council  of  this  want  of  duty,  and  they  decided  that  the 
duke  should  be  summoned  to  court,  and,  if  refractory, 
should  be  treated  as  a  rebel.  As  he  refused  to  obey  the 
citation,  the  king  carried  war  into  the  estates  of  his  vas- 
sal and  besieged  him  in  the  strong  castle  of  Tintadel. 
Merlin  transformed  the  king  into  the  likeness  of  Gorlois, 
and  enabled  him  to  have  many  stolen  interviews  with 
Igerne.  At  length  the  duke  was  killed  in  battle  and  the 
king  espoused  Igerne. 

From  this  union  sprang  Arthur,  who  succeeded  his 
father,  Uther,  upon  the  throne. 

ARTHUR  CHOSEN  KING 

Arthur,  though  only  fifteen  years  old  at  his  father's 
death,  was  elected  king,  at  a  general  meeting  of  the 
nobles.  It  was  not  done  without  opposition,  for  there 
were  many  ambitious  competitors. 

"For  while  he  linger'd  there 
A  doubt  that  ever  smoulder'd  in  the  hearts 
Of  those  great  Lords  and  Barons  of  his  realm 
Flash'd  forth  and  into  war :  for  most  of  these 
Made  head  against  him,  crying,  'Who  is  he 
That  he  should  rule  us?  who  hath  proven  him 
King  Uther's  son?  for  lo!  we  look  at  him, 
And  find  nor  face  nor  bearing,  limbs  nor  voice, 
Are  like  to  those  of  Uther  whom  we  knew." 

— Coming  of  Arthur. 

But  Bishop  Brice,  a  person  of  great  sanctity,  on  Christ- 
mas eve  addressed  the  assembly,  and  represented  that 
it  would  well  become  them,  at  that  solemn  season,  to  put 
up  their  prayers  for  some  token  which  should  manifest 
the  intentions  of  Providence  respecting  their  future  sov- 
ereign. This  was  done,  and  with  such  success,  that  the 
service  was  scarcely  ended  when  a  miraculous  stone  was 
discovered  before  the  church  door,  and  in  the  stone  was 
firmly  fixed  a  sword,  with  the  following  words  engraven 
on  its  hilt : 

"I   am  hight  Escalibore, 
Unto  a  king  fair  tresora." 


ARTHUR  399 

Bishop  Brice,  after  exhorting  the  assembly  to  offer  up 
their  thanksgiving  for  this  signal  miracle,  proposed  a 
law,  that  whoever  should  be  able  to  draw  out  the  sword 
from  the  stone,  should  be  acknowledged  as  sovereign  of 
the  Britons;  and  his  proposal  was  decreed  by  general 
acclamation.  The  tributary  kings  of  Uther,  and  the 
most  famous  knights,  successively  put  their  strength  to 
the  proof,  but  the  miraculous  sword  resisted  all  their 
efforts.  It  stood  till  Candlemas ;  it  stood  till  Easter,  and 
till  Pentecost,  when  the  best  knights  in  the  kingdom  usu- 
ally assembled  for  the  annual  tournament.  Arthur,  who 
was  at  that  time  serving  in  the  capacity  of  squire  to  his 
foster-brother,  Sir  Kay,  attended  his  master  to  the  lists. 
Sir  Kay  fought  with  great  valor  and  success,  but  had  the 
misfortune  to  break  his  sword,  and  sent  Arthur  to  his 
mother  for  a  new  one.  Arthur  hastened  home,  but  did 
not  find  the  lady ;  but  having  observed  near  the  church  a 
sword,  sticking  in  a  stone,  he  galloped  to  the  place,  drew 
out  the  sword  with  great  ease,  and  delivered  it  to  his 
master.  Sir  Kay  would  willingly  have  assumed  to  him- 
self the  distinction  conferred  by  the  possession  of  the 
sword,  but  when,  to  confirm  the  doubters,  the  sword  was 
replaced  in  the  stone  he  was  utterly  unable  to  withdraw 
it,  and  it  would  yield  a  second  time  to  no  hand  but 
Arthur's.  Thus  decisively  pointed  out  by  Heaven  as  their 
king,  Arthur  was  by  general  consent  proclaimed  as  such, 
and  an  early  day  appointed  for  his  solemn  coronation. 

Immediately  after  his  election  to  the  crown,  Arthur 
found  himself  opposed  by  eleven  kings  and  one  duke, 
who  with  a  vast  army  were  actually  encamped  in  the 
forest  of  Rockingham.  By  Merlin's  advice  Arthur  sent 
an  embassy  to  Brittany,  to  solicit  the  aid  of  King  Ban 
and  King  Bohort,  two  of  the  best  knights  in  the  world. 
They  accepted  the  call,  and  with  a  powerful  army 
crossed  the  sea,  landing  at  Portsmouth,  where  they  were 
received  with  great  rejoicing.  The  rebel  kings  were  still 
superior  in  numbers ;  but  Merlin,  by  a  powerful  enchant- 
ment, caused  all  their  tents  to  fall  down  at  once,  and  in 
the  confusion  Arthur  with  his  allies  fell  upon  them  and 
totally  routed  them. 

After   defeating   the    rebels,   Arthur   took   the   field 


400      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

against  the  Saxons.  As  they  were  too  strong  for  him 
unaided,  he  sent  an  embassy  to  Armorica,  beseeching 
the  assistance  of  Hoel,  who  soon  after  brought  over  an 
army  to  his  aid.  The  two  kings  joined  their  forces,  and 
sought  the  enemy,  whom  they  met,  and  both  sides  pre- 
pared for  a  decisive  engagement.  "Arthur  himself,"  as 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  relates,  "dressed  in  a  breastplate 
worthy  of  so  great  a  king,  places  on  his  head  a  golden 
helmet  engraved  with  the  semblance  of  a  dragon.  Over 
his  shoulders  he  throws  his  shield  called  Priwen,  on 
which  a  picture  of  the  Holy  Virgin  constantly  recalled 
her  to  his  memory.  Girt  with  Caliburn,  a  most  excel- 
lent sword,  and  fabricated  in  the  isle  of  Avalon,  he 
graces  his  right  hand  with  the  lance  named  Ron.  This 
was  a  long  and  broad  spear,  well  contrived  for 
slaughter."  After  a  severe  conflict,  Arthur,  calling  on 
the  name  of  the  Virgin,  rushes  into  the  midst  of  his  ene- 
mies, and  destroys  multitudes  of  them  with  the  formid- 
able Caliburn,  and  puts  the  rest  to  flight.  Hoel,  being 
detained  by  sickness,  took  no  part  in  this  battle. 

This  is  called  the  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  and,  how- 
ever disguised  by  fable,  it  is  regarded  by  historians  as  a 
real  event. 

The  feats  performed  by  Arthur  at  the  battle  of  Badois 
Mount  are  thus  celebrated  in  Drayton's  verse: 

"They  sung  how  he  himself  at  Badon  bore,  that  day, 
When  at  the  glorious  goal  his   British  sceptre  lay; 
Two  daies  together  how  the  battel  stronglie  stood; 
Pcndragon's  worthie  son,  who  waded  there  in  blood, 
Three  hundred  Saxons  slew  with  his  owne  valiant  hand." 

—Song  IV. 

GUENEVER 

Merlin  had  planned  for  Arthur  a  marriage  with  the 
daughter  of  King  Laodegan  of  Carmalide.  By  his 
advice  Arthur  paid  a  visit  to  the  court  of  that  sovereign, 
attended  only  by  Merlin  and  by  thirty-nine  knights 
whom  the  magician  had  selected  for  that  service.  On 
their  arrival  they  found  Laodegan  and  his  peers  sitting 
in  council,  endeavoring,  but  with  small  prospect  of  suc- 
cess, to  devise  means  of  resisting  the  impending  attack 


ARTHUR  401 

of  Ryence,  king  of  Ireland,  who,  with  fifteen  tributary 
kings  and  an  almost  innumerable  army,  had  nearly  sur- 
rounded the  city.  Merlin,  who  acted  as  leader  of  the 
band  of  British  knights,  announced  them  as  strangers^ 
who  came  to  offer  the  king  their  services  in  his  wars ; 
but  under  the  express  condition  that  they  should  be  at 
liberty  to  conceal  their  names  and  quality  until  they 
should  think  proper  to  divulge  them.  These  terms  were 
thought  very  strange,  but  were  thankfully  accepted,  and 
the  strangers,  after  taking  the  usual  oath  to  the  king, 
retired  to  the  lodging  which  Merlin  had  prepared  for 
them. 

A  few  days  after  this,  the  enemy,  regardless  of  a 
truce  into  which  they  had  entered  with  King  Laodegan, 
suddenly  issued  from  their  camp  and  made  an  attempt 
to  surprise  the  city.  Cleodalis,  the  king's  general,  as- 
sembled the  royal  forces  with  all  possible  despatch. 
Arthur  and  his  companions  also  flew  to  arms,  and 
Merlin  appeared  at  their  head,  bearing  a  standard  on 
which  was  emblazoned  a  terrific  dragon.  Merlin  ad- 
vanced to  the  gate,  and  commanded  the  porter  to  open 
it,  which  the  porter  refused  to  do,  without  the  king's 
order.  Merlin  thereupon  took  up  the  gate,  with  all  its 
appurtenances  of  locks,  bars,  bolts,  etc.,  and  directed  his 
troops  to  pass  through,  after  which  he  replaced  it  in  per- 
fect order.  He  then  set  spurs  to  his  horse  and  dashed,  at 
the  head  of  his  little  troop,  into  a  body  of  two  thousand 
pagans.  The  disparity  of  numbers  being  so  enormous. 
Merlin  cast  a  spell  upon  the  enemy,  so  as  to  prevent 
their  seeing  the  small  number  of  their  assailants;  not- 
withstanding which  the  British  knights  were  hard 
pressed.  But  the  people  of  the  city,  who  saw  from  the 
walls  this  unequal  contest,  were  ashamed  of  leaving  the 
small  body  of  strangers  to  their  fate,  so  they  opened  the 
gate  and  sallied  forth.  The  numbers  were  now  more 
nearly  equal,  and  Merlin  revoked  his  spell,  so  that  the 
two  armies  encountered  on  fair  terms.  Where  Arthur, 
Ban,  Bohort,  and  the  rest  fought  the  king's  army  had 
the  advantage;  but  in  another  part  of  the  field  the  king 
himself  was  surrounded  and  carried  off  by  the  enemy. 
The  sad  sight  was  seen  by  Guenever,  the  fair  daughter 


402      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

of  the  king,  who  stood  on  the  city  wall  and  looked  at 
the  battle.  She  was  in  dreadful  distress,  tore  her  hair, 
and  swooned  away. 

But  Merlin,  aware  of  what  passed  in  every  part  of 
the  field,  suddenly  collected  his  knights,  led  them  out  of 
the  battle,  intercepted  the  passage  of  the  party  who  were 
carrying  away  the  king,  charged  them  with  irresistible 
impetuosity,  cut  in  pieces  or  dispersed  the  whole  escort, 
and  rescued  the  king.  In  the  fight  Arthur  encountered 
Caulang,  a  giant  fifteen  feet  high,  and  the  fair  Guen- 
ever,  who  had  already  began  to  feel  a  strong  interest  in 
the  handsome  young  stranger,  trembled  for  the  issue  of 
the  contest.  But  Arthur,  dealing  a  dreadful  blow  on  the 
•shoulder  of  the  monster,  cut  through  his  neck  so  that 
his  head  hung  over  on  one  side,  and  in  this  condition 
his  horse  carried  him  about  the  field,  to  the  great  horror 
and  dismay  of  the  Pagans.  Guenever  could  not  refrain 
from  expressing  aloud  her  wish  that  the  gentle  knight, 
who  dealt  with  giants  so  dexterously,  were  destined  to 
become  her  husband,  and  the  wish  was  echoed  by  her 
attendants.  The  enemy  soon  turned  their  backs  and  fled 
with  precipitation,  closely  pursued  by  Laodegan  and  his 
allies. 

After  the  battle  Arthur  was  disarmed  and  conducted 
to  the  bath  by  the  princess  Guenever,  while  his  friends 
were  attended  by  the  other  ladies  of  the  court.  After 
the  bath  the  knights  were  conducted  to  a  magnificent 
entertainment,  at  which  they  were  diligently  served  by 
the  same  fair  attendants.  Laodegan,  more  and  more 
anxious  to  know  the  name  and  quality  of  his  generous 
deliverers,  and  occasionally  forming  a  secret  wish  that 
the  chief  of  his  guests  might  be  captivated  by  the 
charms  of  his  daughter,  appeared  silent  and  pensive,  and 
was  scarcely  roused  from  his  reverie  by  the  banters  of 
his  courtiers.  Arthur,  having  had  an  opportunity  of 
explaining  to  Guenever  his  great  esteem  for  her  merit, 
was  in  the  joy  of  his  heart,  and  was  still  further  de- 
lighted by  hearing  from  Merlin  the  late  exploits  of 
Gawain  at  London,  by  means  of  which  his  immediate 
return  to  his  dominions  was  rendered  unnecessary,  and 
he  was  left  at  liberty  to  protract  his  stay  at  the  court 


ARTHUR  403 

of  Laodegan.  Every  day  contributed  to  increase  the 
admiration  of  the  whole  court  for  the  gallant  strangers, 
and  the  passion  of  Guenever  for  their  chief ;  and  when 
at  last  Merlin  announced  to  the  king  that  the  object  of 
the  visit  of  the  party  was  to  procure  a  bride  for  their 
leader,  Laodegan  at  once  presented  Guenever  to  Arthur, 
telling  him  that,  whatever  might  be  his  rank,  his  merit 
was  sufficient  to  entitle  him  to  the  possession  of  the 
heiress  of  Carmalide. 

"And  could  he  find  a  woman  in  her  womanhood 
As  great  as  he  was  in  his  manhood — 
The  twain  together  might  change  the  world." 

—  Guinevere. 

Arthur  accepted  the  lady  with  the  utmost  gratitude,  and 
Merlin  then  proceeded  to  satisfy  the  king  of  the  rank  of 
his  son-in-law ;  upon  which  Laodegan,  with  all  his 
barons,  hastened  to  do  homage  to  their  lawful  sovereign, 
the  successor  of  Uther  Pendragon.  The  fair  Guenever 
was  then  solemnly  betrothed  to  Arthur,  and  a  magnifi- 
cent festival  was  proclaimed,  which  lasted  seven  days. 
At  the  end  of  that  time,  the  enemy  appearing  again  with 
renewed  force,  it  became  necessary  to  resume  military 
operations.1 

We  must  now  relate  what  took  place  at  and  near 
London,  while  Arthur  was  absent  from  his  capital.  At 
this  very  time  a  band  of  young  heroes  were  on  their 
way  to  Arthur's  court,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
knighthood  from  him.  They  were  Gawain  and  his  three 
brothers,  nephews  of  Arthur,  sons  of  King  Lot,  and 
Galachin,  another  nephew,  son  of  King  Nanters.  King 
Lot  had  been  one  of  the  rebel  chiefs  whom  Arthur  had 
defeated,  but  he  now  hoped  by  means  of  the  young  men 
to  be  reconciled  to  his  brother-in-law.  He  equipped  his 
sons  and  his  nephew  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  giv- 
ing them  a  splendid  retinue  of  young  men,  sons  of  earls 
and  barons,  all  mounted  on  the  best  horses,  with  com- 
plete suits  of  choice  armor.  They  numbered  in  all  seven 

1  Guenever,  the  name  of  Arthur's  queen,  also  written  Genievre  and 
Geneura,  is  familiar  to  all  who  are  conversant  with  chivalric  lore.  It  is 
to  her  adventures,  and  those  of  her  true  knight,  Sir  Launcelot,  that  Dante 
alludes  in  the  beautiful  episode  of  Francesca  da  Rimini. 


404      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

hundred,  but  only  nine  had  yet  received  the  order  of 
knighthood;  the  rest  were  candidates  for  that  honor, 
and  anxious  to  earn  it  by  an  early  encounter  with  the 
enemy.  Gawain,  the  leader,  was  a  knight  of  wonder- 
ful strength;  but  what  was  most  remarkable  about  him 
was  that  his  strength  was  greater  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day  than  at  others.  From  nine  o'clock  till  noon  his 
strength  was  doubled,  and  so  it  was  from  three  to  even- 
song; for  the  rest  of  the  time  it  was  less  remarkable, 
though  at  all  times  surpassing  that  of  ordinary  men. 

After  a  march  of  three  days  they  arrived  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  London,  where  they  expected  to  find  Arthur 
and  his  court,  and  very  unexpectedly  fell  in  with  a  large 
convoy  belonging  to  the  enemy,  consisting  of  numerous 
carts  and  wagons,  all  loaded  with  provisions,  and 
escorted  by  three  thousand  men,  who  had  been  collect- 
ing spoil  from  all  the  country  round.  A  single  charge 
from  Gawain's  impetuous  cavalry  was  sufficient  to  dis- 
perse the  escort  and  recover  the  convoy,  which  was  in- 
stantly despatched  to  London.  But  before  long  a  body 
of  seven  thousand  fresh  soldiers  advanced  to  the  at- 
tack of  the  five  princes  and  their  little  army.  Gawain, 
singling  out  a  chief  named  Choas,  of  gigantic  size,  began 
the  battle  by  splitting  him  from  the  crown  of  the  head 
to  the  breast.  Galachin  encountered  King  Sanagran, 
who  was  also  very  huge,  and  cut  off  his  head.  Agrivain 
and  Gahariet  also  performed  prodigies  of  valor.  Thus 
they  kept  the  great  army  of  assailants  at  bay,  though 
hard  pressed,  till  of  a  sudden  they  perceived  a  strong  body 
of  the  citizens  advancing  from  London,  where  the  con- 
voy which  had  been  recovered  by  Gawain  had  arrived, 
and  informed  the  mayor  and  citizens  of  the  danger  of 
their  deliverer.  The  arrival  of  the  Londoners  soon  de- 
cided the  contest.  The  enemy  fled  in  all  directions,  and 
Gawain  and  his  friends,  escorted  by  the  grateful  citi- 
zens, entered  London,  and  were  received  with  acclama- 
tions. 


ARTHUR  405 

CHAPTER  V 
ARTHUR  (Continued) 

AFTER  the  great  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  by  which 
the  Saxons  were  for  the  time  effectually  put  down, 
Arthur  turned  his  arms  against  the  Scots  and  Picts, 
whom  he  routed  at  Lake  Lomond,  and  compelled  to  sue 
for  mercy.  He  then  went  to  York  to  keep  his  Christ- 
mas, and  employed  himself  in  restoring  the  Christian 
churches  which  the  Pagans  had  rifled  and  overthrown. 
The  following  summer  he  conquered  Ireland,  and  then 
made  a  voyage  with  his  fleet  to  Iceland,  which  he  also 
subdued.  The  kings  of  Gothland  and  of  the  Orkneys 
came  voluntarily  and  made  their  submission,  promising 
to  pay  tribute.  Then  he  returned  to  Britain,  where,  hav- 
ing established  the  kingdom,  he  dwelt  twelve  years  in 
peace. 

During  this  time  he  invited  over  to  him  all  persons 
whatsoever  that  were  famous  for  valor  in  foreign  na- 
tions, and  augmented  the  number  of  his  domestics,  and 
introduced  such  politeness  into  his  court  as  people  of 
the  remotest  countries  thought  worthy  of  their  imitation. 
So  that  there  was  not  a  nobleman  who  thought  himself 
of  any  consideration  unless  his  clothes  and  arms  were 
made  in  the  same  fashion  as  those  of  Arthur's  knights. 

Finding  himself  so  powerful  at  home,  Arthur  began 
to  form  designs  for  extending  his  power  abroad.  So, 
having  prepared  his  fleet,  he  first  attempted  Norway, 
that  he  might  procure  the  crown  of  it  for  Lot,  his 
sister's  husband.  Arthur  landed  in  Norway,  fought  a 
great  battle  with  the  king  of  that  country,  defeated 
him,  and  pursued  the  victory  till  he  had  reduced  the 
whole  country  under  his  dominion,  and  established  Lot 
upon  the  throne.  Then  Arthur  made  a  voyage  to  Gaul 
and  laid  siege  to  the  city  of  Paris.  Gaul  was  at  that 
time  a  Roman  province,  and  governed  by  Flollo,  the 
Tribune.  When  the  siege  of  Paris  had  continued  a 
month,  and  the  people  began  to  suffer  from  famine, 


406      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Flollo  challenged  Arthur  to  single  combat,  proposing  to 
decide  the  conquest  of  the  province  in  that  way.  Arthur 
gladly  accepted  the  challenge,  and  slew  his  adversary 
in  the  contest,  upon  which  the  citizens  surrendered  the 
city  to  him.  After  the  victory  Arthur  divided  his  army 
into  two  parts,  one  of  which  he  committed  to  the  con- 
duct of  Hoel,  whom  he  ordered  to  march  into  Aquitaino, 
while  he  with  the  other  part  should  endeavor  to  subdue 
the  other  provinces.  At  the  end  of  nine  years,  in  which 
time  all  the  parts  of  Gaul  were  entirely  reduced,  Arthur 
returned  to  Paris,  where  he  kept  his  court,  and,  call- 
ing an  assembly  of  the  clergy  and  people,  established 
peace  and  the  just  administration  of  the  laws  in  that 
kingdom.  Then  he  bestowed  Normandy  upon  Bedver, 
his  butler,  and  the  province  of  Andegavia  upon  Kay, 
his  steward,1  and  several  other  provinces  upon  his  great 
men  that  attended  him.  And,  having  settled  the  peace 
of  the  cities  and  countries,  he  returned  back  in  the  be- 
ginning of  spring  to  Britain. 

Upon  the  approach  of  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Arthur, 
the  better  to  demonstrate  his  joy  after  such  triumphant 
successes,  and  for  the  more  solemn  observation  of  that 
festival,  and  reconciling  the  minds  of  the  princes  that 
were  now  subject  to  him,  resolved  during  that  season 
to  hold  a  magnificent  court,  to  place  the  crown  upon 
his  head,  and  to  invite  all  the  kings  and  dukes  under  his 
subjection  to  the  solemnity.  And  he  pitched  upon 
Caerleon,  the  City  of  Legions,  as  the  proper  place  for 
his  purpose.  For,  besides  its  great  wealth  above  the 
other  cities,2  its  situation  upon  the  river  Usk,  near  the 
Severn  sea,  was  most  pleasant  and  fit  for  so  great  a 
solemnity.  For  on  one  side  it  was  washed  by  that  noble 

1  This  namet  in  the  French  romances  is  spelled  Queux,  which  means 
htad  cook.  This  would  seem  to  imply  that  it  was  a  title,  and  not  a  name; 
yet  the  jpcrsonage  who  bore  it  is  never  mentioned  by  any  other.  He  is 
the  chiefs  if  not  the  only,  comic  character  among  the  heroes  of  Arthur's 
court  He  is  the  Seneschal  or  Steward,  his  duties  also  embracing  those 
of  chief  of  the  cooks.  In  the  romances,  his  general  character  is  a  com- 
pound of  valor  and  buffoonery,  always  ready  to  fight,  and  generally  getting 
the  worst  of  the  battle.  He  is  also  sarcastic  and  abusive  m  his  remarks, 
by  which  he  often  gets  into  trouble  Yet  Arthur  seems  to  have  an  attach- 
ment to  him,  and  often  takes  his  advice,  which  is  generally  wrong. 

*  Several  cities  are  allotted  to  King  Arthur  by  the  romance-writers.  The 
principal  are  Caerleon,  Camelot,  and  Carlisle. 

Caerleon  derives  its  name  from  its  having  been  the  station  of  one  of 
the  legions,  daring  the  dominion  of  the  Romans.  It  is  called  bv  Latin 


ARTHUR  407 

river,  so  that  the  kings  and  princes  from  the  countiies 
beyond  the  seas  might  have  the  convenience  of  sailing 
up  to  it.  On  the  other  side  the  beauty  of  the  meadows 
and  groves,  and  magnificence  of  the  royal  palaces,  with 
lofty  gilded  roofs  that  adorned  it,  made  it  even  rival 
the  grandeur  of  Rome.  It  was  also  famous  for  two 
churches,  whereof  one  was  adorned  with  a  choir  of 
virgins,  who  devoted  themselves  wholly  to  the  service  of 
God,  and  the  other  maintained  a  convent  of  priests. 
Besides,  there  was  a  college  of  two  hundred  philoso- 
phers, who,  being  learned  in  astronomy  and  the  other 
arts,  were  diligent  in  observing  the  courses  of  the  stars, 
and  gave  Arthur  true  predictions  of  the  events  that 
would  happen.  In  this  place,  therefore,  which  afforded 
such  delights,  were  preparations  made  for  the  ensuing 
festival. 

Ambassadors  were  then  sent  into  several  kingdomsr 
to  invite  to  court  the  princes  both  of  Gaul  and  of  the 
adjacent  islands.  Accordingly  there  came  Augusel,  king 
of  Albania,  now  Scotland,  Cadwallo,  king  of  Venedotia, 
now  North  Wales,  Sater,  king  of  Demetia,  now  South 
Wales;  also  the  archbishops  of  the  metropolitan  sees, 
London  and  York,  and  Dubricius,  bishop  of  Caerleon, 
the  City  of  Legions.  This  prelate,  who  was  primate  of 
Britain,  was  so  eminent  for  his  piety  that  he  could  cure 
any  sick  person  by  his  prayers.  There  were  also  the 
counts  of  the  principal  cities,  and  many  other  worthies 
of  no  less  dignity. 

From  the  adjacent  islands  came  Guillamurius,  king 
of  Ireland,  Gunfasius,  king  of  the  Orkneys,  Malvasius, 
king  of  Iceland,  Lot,  king  of  Norway,  Bedver,  the  but- 
ler, Duke  of  Normandy,  Kay,  the  sewer,  Duke  of  Ande- 

writers  Urbs  Legionum,  the  City  of  Legions.  The  former  word  being 
rendered  into  Welsh  by  Caer,  meaning  city,  and  the  latter  contracted  into 
lleon.  The  river  Usk  retains  its  name  in  modern  geography,  and  there 
is  a  town  or  city  of  Caerleon  upon  it.  though  the  city  oi  Cardiff  is 
thought  to  be  the  scene  of  Arthur's  court.  Chester  also  bears  in  V/elsh  the 
name  of  Caerleon ;  for  Chester,  derived  from  castra,  Latin  for  camp,  is  the 
designation  of  military  headquarters. 

Camelot  is  thought  to  be  Winchester. 

Shalott  is  Guilford. 

Hamo's  Port  is  Southampton. 

Carlisle  is  the  city  still  retaining  that  name,  near  the  Scottish  border. 
But  this  name  is  also  sometimes  applied  to  other  places,  which  were,  like 
itself,  military  stations. 


408      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

gavia;  also  the  twelve  peers  of  Gaul,  and  Hoel,  Duke 
of  the  Armorican  Britons,  with  his  nobility,  who  came 
with  such  a  train  of  mules,  horses,  arid  rich  furniture 
as  it  is  difficult  to  describe.  Besides  these  there  re- 
mained no  prince  of  any  consideration  on  this  side  of 
Spain  who  came  not  upon  this  invitation.  And  no  won- 
(fer,  when  Arthur's  munificence,  which  was  celebrated 
over  the  whole  world,  made  him  beloved  by  all  people. 
When  all  were  assembled  upon  the  day  of  the  sol- 
emnity the  archbishops  were  conducted  to  the  palace, 
in  order  to  place  the  crown  upon  the  king's  head.  Then 
Oubricius,  inasmuch  as  the  court  was  held  in  his  dio- 
cese, made  himself  ready  to  celebrate  the  office.  As 
soon  as  the  king  was  invested  with  his  royal  habiliments 
he  was  conducted  in  great  pomp  to  the  metropolitan 
church,  having  four  kings,  viz.,  of  Albania,  Cornwall, 
Demetia,  and  Venedotia,  bearing  four  golden  swords  be- 
fore him.  On  another  part  was  the  queen,  dressed  out 
in  her  richest  ornaments,  conducted  by  the  archbishops 
and  bishops  to  the  Church  of  Virgins ;  the  four  queens, 
also,  of  the  kings  last  mentioned,  bearing  before  her 
four  white  doves,  according  to  ancient  custom.  When 
the  whole  procession  was  ended  so  transporting  was 
the  harmony  of  the  musical  instruments  and  voices, 
whereof  there  was  a  vast  variety  in  both  churches,  that 
the  knights  who  attended  were  in  doubt  which  to  pre- 
fer, and  therefore  crowded  from  the  one  to  the  othei 
by  turns,  and  were  far  from  being  tired  of  the  solemnity, 
though  the  whole  day  had  been  spent  in  it.  At  last, 
when  divine  service  was  over  at  both  churches,  the  king 
and  queen  put  off  their  crowns,  and,  putting  on  their 
lighter  ornaments,  went  to  the  banquet.  When  they  had 
all  taken  their  seats  according  to  precedence,  Kay,  the 
sewer,  in  rich  robes  of  ermine,  with  a  thousand  young 
noblemen  all  in  like  manner  clothed  in  rich  attire,  served 
up  the  dishes.  From  another  part  Bedver,  the  butler, 
was  followed  by  the  same  number  of  attendants,  who 
waited  with  all  kinds  of  cups  and  drinking-vessels.  And 
there  was  food  and  drink  in  abundance,  and  everything 
was  of  the  best  kind,  and  served  in  the  best  manner. 
For  at  that  time  Britain  had  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of 


ARTHUR  409 

grandeur  that  in  riches,  luxury,  and  politeness  it  far  sur- 
passed all  other  kingdoms. 

As  soon  as  the  banquets  were  over  they  went  into 
the  fields  without  the  city  to  divert  themselves  with  vari- 
ous sports,  such  as  shooting  with  bows  and  arrows,  toss- 
ing the  pike,  casting  of  heavy  stones  and  rocks,  playing 
at  dice,  and  the  like,  and  all  these  inoffensively,  and 
without  quarrelling.  In  this  manner  were  three  days 
spent,  and  after  that  they  separated,  and  the  kings  and 
noblemen  departed  to  their  several  homes. 

After  this  Arthur  reigned  five  years  in  peace.  Then 
came  ambassadors  from  Lucius  Tiberius,  Procurator 
under  Leo,  Emperor  of  Rome,  demanding  tribute.  But 
Arthur  refused  to  pay  tribute,  and  prepared  for  war. 
As  soon  as  the  necessary  dispositions  were  made  he 
committed  the  government  of  his  kingdom  to  his  nephew 
Modred  and  to  Queen  Guenever,  and  marched  with  his- 
army  to  Hamo's  Port,  where  the  wind  stood  fair  for 
him.  The  army  crossed  over  in  safety,  and  landed 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Barba.  And  there  they 
pitched  their  tents  to  wait  the  arrival  of  the  kings  of 
the  islands. 

As  soon  as  all  the  forces  were  arrived  Arthur  marched 
forward  to  Augustodunum,  and  encamped  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  Alba.  Here  repeated  battles  were  fought, 
in  all  which  the  Britons,  under  their  valiant  leaders, 
Hoel,  Duke  of  Armorica,  and  Gawain,  nephew  to  Ar- 
thur, had  the  advantage.  At  length  Lucius  Tiberius 
determined  to  retreat,  and  wait  for  the  Emperor  Leo 
to  join  him  with  fresh  troops.  But  Arthur,  anticipating 
this  event,  took  possession  of  a  certain  valley,  and  closed 
up  the  way  of  retreat  to  Lucius,  compelling  him  to  fight 
a  decisive  battle,  in  which  Arthur  lost  some  of  the 
bravest  of  his  knights  and  most  faithful  followers.  But 
on  the  other  hand  Lucius  Tiberius  was  slain,  and  his 
army  totally  defeated.  The  fugitives  dispersed  over  the 
country,  some  to  the  by-ways  and  woods,  some  to  cities 
and  towns,  and  all  other  places  where  they  could  hope 
for  safety. 

Arthur  stayed  in  those  parts  till  the  next  winter  was 
over,  and  employed  his  time  in  restoring  order  and 


410      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

settling  the  government.     He  then  returned  into  Eng- 
land, and  celebrated  his  victories  with  great  splendor. 

Then  the  king  stablished  all  his  knights,  and  to  them 
that  were  not  rich  he  gave  lands,  and  charged  them 
all  never  to  do  outrage  nor  murder,  and  always  to  flee 
treason;  also,  by  no  means  to  be  cruel,  but  to  give 
mercy  unto  him  that  asked  mercy,  upon  pain  of  for- 
feiture of  their  worship  and  lordship;  and  always  to  do 
ladies,  damosels,  and  gentlewomen  service,  upon  pain 
of  death.  Also  that  no  man  take  battle  in  a  wrongful 
quarrel,  for  no  law,  nor  for  any  world's  goods.  Unto 
this  were  all  the  knights  sworn  of  the  Table  Round, 
both  old  and  young.  And  at  every  year  were  they  sworn 
at  the  high  feast  of  Pentecost. 

KING    ARTHUR    SLAYS   THE    GIANT    OF    ST.    MICHAEL'S 
MOUNT 

While  the  army  was  encamped  in  Brittany,  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  kings,  there  came  a  countryman  to 
Arthur,  and  told  him  that  a  giant,  whose  cave  was  on 
a  neighboring  mountain,  called  St.  Michael's  Mount,  had 
for  a  long  time  been  accustomed  to  carry  off  the  chil- 
dren of  the  peasants  to  devour  them.  "And  now  he 
hath  taken  the  Duchess  of  Brittany,  as  she  rode  with 
her  attendants,  and  hath  carried  her  away  in  spite  of  all 
they  could  do."  "Now,  fellow,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"canst  thou  bring  me  there  where  this  giant  haunteth?" 
"Yea,  sure,"  said  the  good  man ;  "lo,  yonder  where  thou 
seest  two  great  fires,  there  shalt  thou  find  him,  and  more 
treasure  than  I  suppose  is  in  all  France  beside."  Then 
the  king  called  to  him  Sir  Bedver  and  Sir  Kay,  and  com- 
manded them  to  make  ready  horse  and  harness  for  him- 
self and  them;  for  after  evening  he  would  ride  on  pil- 
grimage to  St.  Michael's  Mount. 

So  they  three  departed,  and  rode  forth  till  they  came 
to  the  foot  of  the  mount.  And  there  the  king  com- 
manded them  to  tarry,  for  he  would  himself  go  up  into 
that  mount.  So  he  ascended  the  hill  till  he  came  to 
a  great  fire,  and  there  he  found  an  aged  woman  sitting 
by  a  new-made  grave,  making  great  sorrow.  Then  King 


ARTHUR  411 

Arthur  saluted  her,  and  demanded  of  her  wherefore  she 
made  such  lamentation;  to  whom  she  answered:  "Sir 
knight,  speak  low,  for  yonder  is  a  devil,  and  if  he  hear 
thee  speak,  he  will  come  and  destroy  thee.  For  ye 
cannot  make  resistance  to  him,  he  is  so  fierce  and  so 
strong.  He  hath  murdered  the  Duchess,  which  here 
lieth,  who  was  the  fairest  of  all  the  world,  wife  to  Sir 
Hoel,  Duke  of  Brittany."  "Dame/'  said  the  king,  "I 
come  from  the  noble  conqueror,  King  Arthur,  to  treat 
with  that  tyrant."  "Fie  on  such  treaties,"  said  she;  "he 
setteth  not  by  the  king,  nor  by  no  man  else."  "Well," 
said  Arthur,  "I  will  accomplish  my  message  for  all  your 
fearful  words."  So  he  went  forth  by  the  crest  of  the 
hill,  and  saw  where  the  giant  sat  at  supper,  gnawing  on 
the  limb  of  a  man,  and  baking  his  broad  limbs  at  the 
fire,  and  three  fair  damsels  lying  bound,  whose  lot  it 
was  to  be  devoured  in  their  turn.  When  King  Arthur 
beheld  that,  he  had  great  compassion  on  them,  so  that 
his  heart  bled  for  sorrow.  Then  he  hailed  the  giant, 
saying,  "He  that  all  the  world  ruleth  give  thee  short 
life  and  shameful  death.  Why  hast  thou  murdered  this 
Duchess?  Therefore  come  forth,  for  this  day  thou 
shalt  die  by  my  hand."  Then  the  giant  started  up,  and 
took  a  great  club,  and  smote  at  the  king,  and  smote 
off  his  coronal ;  and  then  the  king  struck  him  in  the 
belly  with  his  sword,  and  made  a  fearful  wound.  Then 
the  giant  threw  away  his  club,  and  caught  the  king  in 
his  arms,  so  that  he  crushed  his  ribs.  Then  the  three 
maidens  kneeled  down  and  prayed  for  help  and  com- 
fort for  Arthur.  And  Arthur  weltered  and  wrenched, 
so  that  he  was  one  while  under,  and  another  time  above. 
And  so  weltering  and  wallowing  they  rolled  down  the 
hill,  and  ever  as  they  weltered  Arthur  smote  him  with 
his  dagger ;  and  it  fortuned  they  came  to  the  place  where 
the  two  knights  were.  And  when  they  saw  the  king 
fast  in  the  giant's  arms  they  came  and  loosed  him.  Then 
the  king  commanded  Sir  Kay  to  smite  off  the  giant's 
head,  and  to  set  it  on  the  truncheon  of  a  spear,  and 
fix  it  on  the  barbican,  that  all  the  people  might  see  and 
behold  it.  This  was  done,  and  anon  it  was  known 
through  all  the  country,  wherefor  the  people  came  and 


412      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

thanked  the  king.  And  he  said,  "Give  your  thanks  to 
God;  and  take  ye  the  giant's  spoil  and  divide  it  among 
you."  And  King  Arthur  caused  a  church  to  be  builded 
on  that  hill,  in  honor  of  St.  Michael. 

KING   ARTHUR    GETS    A    SWORD    FROM    THE    LADY    OF    THE 
LAKE 

One  day  King  Arthur  rode  forth,  and  on  a  sudden 
he  was  ware  of  three  churls  chasing  Merlin,  to  have 
slain  him.  And  the  king  rode  unto  them  and  bade 
them,  "Flee,  churls!"  Then  were  they  afraid  when 
they  saw  a  knight,  and  fled.  "O  Merlin,"  said  Arthur, 
"here  hadst  thou  been  slain,  for  all  thy  crafts,  had  I 
not  been  by."  "Nay/'  said  Merlin,  "not  so,  for  I  could 
save  myself  if  I  would;  but  thou  art  more  near  thy 
death  than  I  am."  So,  as  they  went  thus  talking,  King 
Arthur  perceived  where  sat  a  knight  on  horseback,  as 
if  to  guard  the  pass.  "Sir  knight,"  said  Arthur,  "for 
what  cause  abidest  thou  here?"  Then  the  knight  said, 
"There  may  no  knight  ride  this  way  unless  he  just  with 
me.  for  such  is  the  custom  of  the  pass."  "I  will  amend 
that  custom,"  said  the  king.  Then  they  ran  together, 
and  they  met  so  hard  that  their  spears  were  shivered. 
Then  they  drew  their  swords  and  fought  a  strong  bat- 
tle, with  many  great  strokes.  But  at  length  the  sword 
of  the  knight  smote  King  Arthur's  sword  in  two  pieces. 
Then  said  the  knight  unto  Arthur,  "Thou  art  in  my 
power,  whether  to  save  thee  or  slay  thee,  and  unless  thou 
yield  thee  as  overcome  and  recreant,  thou  shalt  die." 
"As  for  death,"  said  King  Arthur,  "welcome  be  it  when 
it  cometh;  but  to  yield  me  unto  thee  as  recreant,  I  will 
not."  Then  he  leapt  upon  the  knight,  and  took  him 
by  the  middle  and  threw  him  down;  but  the  knight  was 
a  passing  strong  man,  and  anon  he  brought  Arthur 
under  him,  and  would  have  razed  off  his  helm  to  slay 
him.  Then  said  Merlin,  "Knight,  hold  thy  hand,  for 
this  knight  is  a  man  of  more  worship  than  thou  art 
aware  of."  "Why,  who  is  he?"  said  the  knight.  "It  is 
King  Arthur."  Then  would  he  have  slain  him  for  dread 
of  his  wrath,  and  lifted  up  his  sword  to  slay  him;  and 


ARTHUR  413 

therewith  Merlin  cast  an  enchantment  on  the  knight, 
so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth  in  a  great  sleep.  Then  Merlin 
took  up  King  Arthur,  and  set  him  on  his  horse.  "Alas !" 
said  Arthur,  "what  hast  thou  done,  Merlin?  hast  thou 
slain  this  good  knight  by  thy  crafts?'*  "Care  ye  not," 
said  Merlin;  "he  is  wholer  than  ye  be.  He  is  only 
asleep,  and  will  wake  in  three  hours." 

Then  the  king  and  he  departed,  and  went  till  they 
came  to  a  hermit,  that  was  a  good  man  and  a  great 
leech.  So  the  hermit  searched  all  his  wounds,  and  ap- 
plied good  salves;  and  the  king  was  there  three  days, 
and  then  were  his  wounds  well  amended,  that  he  might 
ride  and  go.  So  they  departed,  and  as  they  rode  Arthur 
said,  "I  have  no  sword."  "No  matter,"  said  Merlin ; 
"hereby  is  a  sword  that  shall  be  yours."  So  they  rode 
till  they  came  to  a  lake,  which  was  a  fair  water  and 
broad.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  lake  Arthur  was  aware 
of  an  arm  clothed  in  white  samite,1  that  held  a  fair 
sword  in  the  hand.  "Lo!"  said  Merlin,  "yonder  is  that 
sword  that  I  spake  of.  It  belongeth  to  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake,  and,  if  she  will,  thou  mayest  take  it ;  but  if  she 
will  not,  it  will  not  be  in  thy  power  to  take  it." 

So  Sir  Arthur  and  Merlin  alighted  from  their  horses, 
and  went  into  a  boat.  And  when  they  came  to  the 
sword  that  the  hand  held  Sir  Arthur  took  it  by  the 
handle  and  took  it  to  him,  and  the  arm  and  the  hand 
went  under  the  water. 

Then  they  returned  unto  the  land  and  rode  forth. 
And  Sir  Arthur  looked  on  the  sword  and  liked  it  right 
well. 

So  they  rode  unto  Caerleon,  whereof  his  knights  were 
passing  glad.  And  when  they  heard  of  his  adventures 
they  marvelled  that  he  would  jeopard  his  person  so 
alone.  But  all  men  of  worship  said  it  was  a  fine  thing 
to  be  under  such  a  chieftain  as  would  put  his  person 
in  adventure  as  other  poor  knights  did. 

*  Samite,  a  sort  of  silk  stuff. 


414      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 
CHAPTER    VI 

SIR   GAWAIN 

SIR  GAWAIN  was  nephew  to  King  Arthur,  by  his  sis- 
ter Morgana,  married  to  Lot,  king  of  Orkney,  who  was 
by  Arthur  made  king  of  Norway.  Sir  Gawain  was  one 
of  the  most  famous  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and 
is  characterized  by  the  romancers  as  the  sage  and  cour- 
teous Gawain.  To  this  Chaucer  alludes  in  his  "Squiere's 
Tale/'  where  the  strange  knight  "salueth"  all  the  court 

"With  so  high  reverence  and  observance, 
As  well  in  speeche  as  in  countenance, 
That  Gawain,  with  his  olde  curtesie, 
Though  he  were  come  agen  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word." 

Gawain's  brothers  were  Agrivain,  Gahariet,  and 
Gareth. 

SIR  GAWAIN'S  MARRIAGE 

Once  upon  a  time  King  Arthur  held  his  court  in 
merry  Carlisle,  when  a  damsel  came  before  him  and 
craved  a  boon.  It  was  for  vengeance  upon  a  caitiff 
knight,  who  had  made  her  lover  captive  and  despoiled 
her  of  her  lands.  King  Arthur  commanded  to  bring 
him  his  sword,  Excalibar,  and  to  saddle  his  steed,  and 
rode  forth  without  delay  to  right  the  lady's  wrong.  Ere 
long  he  reached  the  castle  of  the  grim  baron,  and  chal- 
lenged him  to  the  conflict.  But  the  castle  stood  on 
magic  ground,  and  the  spell  was  such  that  no  knight 
could  tread  thereon  but  straight  his  courage  fell  and  his 
strength  decayed.  King  Arthur  felt  the  charm,  and 
before  a  blow  was  struck,  his  sturdy  limbs  lost  their 
strength,  and  his  head  grew  faint.  He  was  fain  to  yield 
himself  prisoner  to  the  churlish  knight,  who  refused  to 
release  him  except  upon  condition  that  he  should  re- 
turn at  the  end  of  a  year,  and  bring  a  true  answer  to 
the  question,  "What  thing  is  it  which  women  most  de- 


SIR  GAWAIN  415 

sire?"  or  in  default  thereof  surrender  himself  and  his 
lands.  King  Arthur  accepted  the  terms,  and  gave  his 
oath  to  return  at  the  time  appointed.  During  the  year 
the  king  rode  east,  and  he  rode  west,  and  inquired  of 
all  whom  he  met  what  thing  it  is  which  all  women  most 
desire.  Some  told  him  riches;  some,  pomp  and  state; 
some,  mirth;  some,  flattery;  and  some,  a  gallant  knight. 
But  in  the  diversity  of  answers  he  could  find  no  sure 
dependence.  The  year  was  well-nigh  spent,  when  one 
day,  as  he  rode  thoughtfully  through  a  forest,  he  saw 
sitting  beneath  a  tree  a  lady  of  such  hideous  aspect  that 
he  turned  away  his  eyes,  and  when  she  greeted  him  in 
seemly  sort,  made  no  answer.  "What  wight  art  thou," 
the  lady  said,  "that  will  not  speak  to  me?  It  may  chance 
that  I  may  resolve  thy  doubts,  though  I  be  not  fair  of 
aspect."  "If  thou  wilt  do  so,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"choose  what  reward  thou  wilt,  thou  grim  lady,  and  it 
shall  be  given  thee."  "Swear  me  this  upon  thy  faith," 
she  said,  and  Arthur  swore  it.  Then  the  lady  told  him 
the  secret,  and  demanded  her  reward,  which  was  that 
the  king  should  find  some  fair  and  courtly  knight  to  be 
her  husband. 

King  Arthur  hastened  to  the  grim  baron's  castle  and 
told  him  one  by  one  all  the  answers  which  he  had  re- 
ceived from  his  various  advisers,  except  the  last,  and 
not  one  was  admitted  as  the  true  one.  "Now  yield  thee, 
Arthur,"  the  giant  said,  "for  thou  hast  not  paid  thy 
ransom,  and  thou  and  thy  lands  are  forfeited  to  me." 
Then  King  Arthur  said : 

"Yet  hold  thy  hand,  thou  proud  baron, 

I  pray  thee  hold  thy  hand, 
And  give  me  leave  to  speak  once  more, 

In  rescue  of  my  land. 
This  morn  as  I  came  over  a  moor, 

I  saw  a  lady  set, 
Between  an  oak  and  a  green  holly, 

All  clad  in  red  scarlett. 
She  says  all  women  would  have  their  willt 

This  is  their  chief  desire; 
Now  yield,  as  thou  art  a  baron  true, 

That  I  have  paid  my  hire." 

"It  was  my  sister  that  told  thee  this,"  the  churlish 


416      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

baron   exclaimed.      "Vengeance   light   on    her!      I   will 
some  time  or  other  do  her  as  ill  a  turn." 

King  Arthur  rode  homeward,  but  not  light  of  heart, 
for  he  remembered  the  promise  he  was  under  to  the 
loathly  lady  to  give  her  one  of  his  young  and  gallant 
knights  for  a  husband.  He  told  his  grief  to  Sir  Gawain, 
his  nephew,  and  he  replied,  "Be  not  sad,  my  lord,  for  I 
will  marry  the  loathly  lady."  King  Arthur  replied: 

"Now  nay,  now  nay,  good  Sir  Gawaine, 

My  sister's  son  ye  be; 
The  loathly  lady's  all  too  grim, 
And  all  too  foule  for  thee." 

But  Gawain  persisted,  and  the  king  at  last,  with  sor- 
row of  heart,  consented  that  Gawain  should  be  his 
ransom.  So  one  day  the  king  and  his  knights  rode  to 
the  forest,  met  the  loathly  lady,  and  brought  her  to 
the  court.  Sir  Gawain  stood  the  scoffs  and  jeers  of  his 
companions  as  he  best  might,  and  the  marriage  was 
solemnized,  but  not  with  the  usual  festivities.  Chaucer 
tells  us: 

".  .  .  There  was  no  joye  ne  feste  at  alle; 
There  n'  as  but  hevinesse  and  mochel  sorwe, 
For  prively  he  wed  her  on  the  morwe, 
And  all  day  after  hid  him  as  an  owle, 
So  wo  was  him  his  wife  loked  so  foule!"1 

When  night  came,  and  they  were  alone  together,  Sir 
Gawain  could  not  conceal  his  aversion;  and  the  lady 
asked  him  why  he  sighed  so  heavily,  and  turned  away 
his  face.  He  candidly  confessed  it  was  on  account  of 
three  things,  her  age,  her  ugliness,  and  her  low  degree. 
The  lady,  not  at  all  offended,  replied  with  excellent  argu- 
ments to  all  his  objections.  She  showed  him  that  with 
age  is  discretion,  with  ugliness  security  from  rivals,  and 
that  all  true  gentility  depends,  not  upon  the  accident  of 
birth,  but  upon  the  character  of  the  individual. 

Sir  Gawain  made  no  reply ;  but,  turning  his  eyes  on 
his  bride,  what  was  his  amazement  to  perceive  that  she 

1  N'as  is  not  was,  contracted;  in  modern  phrase,  there  was  not  Mochtl 
is  much  sorrow;  morwe  is  morrow. 


SIR  GAWAIN  417 

wore  no  longer  the  unseemly  aspect  that  had  so  dis- 
tressed him.  She  then  told  him  that  the  form  she  had 
worn  was  not  her  true  form,  but  a  disguise  imposed 
upon  her  by  a  wicked  enchanter,  and  that  she  was  con- 
demned to  wear  it  until  two  things  should  happen :  one, 
that  she  should  obtain  some  young  and  gallant  knight  to 
be  her  husband.  This  having  been  done,  one-half  of  the 
charm  was  removed.  She  was  now  at  liberty  to  wear 
her  true  form  for  half  the  time,  and  she  bade  him  choose 
whether  he  would  have  her  fair  by  day,  and  ugly  by 
night,  or  the  reverse.  Sir  Gawain  would  fain  have  had 
her  look  her  best  by  night,  when  he  alone  would  see 
her,  and  show  her  repulsive  visage,  if  at  all,  to  others. 
But  she  reminded  him  how  much  more  pleasant  it  would 
be  to  her  to  wear  her  best  looks  in  the  throng  of  knights 
and  ladies  by  day.  Sir  Gawain  yielded,  and  gave  up  his 
will  to  hers.  This  alone  was  wanting  to  dissolve  the 
charm.  The  lovely  lady  now  with  joy  assured  him 
that  she  should  change  no  more,  but  as  she  now  was, 
so  would  she  remain  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

"Sweet  blushes  stayned  her  rud-red  cheek, 

Her  eyen  were  black  as  sloe, 
The  ripening  cherrye  swelled  her  lippe, 

And  all  her  neck  was  snow. 
Sir  Gawain  kist  that  ladye  faire 

Lying  upon  the  sheete, 
And  swore,  as  he  was  a  true  knight, 

The  spice  was  never  so  swete." 

The  dissolution  of  the  charm  which  had  held  the 
lady  also  released  her  brother,  the  "grim  baron,"  for 
he  too  had  been  implicated  in  it.  He  ceased  to  be  a 
churlish  oppressor,  and  became  a  gallant  aod  generous 
knight  as  any  at  Arthur's  court. 


418      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 


CHAPTER   VII 

CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS;  OR,   CARADOC   WITH   THE   SHRUNKEN 
ARM 

CARADOC  was  the  son  of  Ysenne,  the  beautiful  niece 
of  Arthur.  He  was  ignorant  who  his  father  was,  till 
it  was  discovered  in  the  following  manner:  When  the 
youth  was  of  proper  years  to  receive  the  honors  of 
knighthood,  King  Arthur  held  a  grand  court  for  the 
purpose  of  knighting  him.  On  this  occasion  a  strange 
knight  presented  himself,  and  challenged  the  knights  of 
Arthur's  court  to  exchange  blow  for  blow  with  him. 
His  proposal  was  this — to  lay  his  neck  on  a  block  for 
any  knight  to  strike,  on  condition  that,  if  he  survived 
the  blow,  the  knight  should  submit  in  turn  to  the  same 
experiment.  Sir  Kay,  who  was  usually  ready  to  accept 
all  challenges,  pronounced  this  wholly  unreasonable,  and 
declared  that  he  would  not  accept  it  for  all  the  wealth 
in  the  world.  And  when  the  knight  offered  his  sword, 
with  which  the  operation  was  to  be  performed,  no  per- 
son ventured  to  accept  it,  till  Caradoc,  growing  angry 
at  the  disgrace  which  was  thus  incurred  by  the  Round 
Table,  threw  aside  his  mantle  and  took  it.  "Do  you  do 
this  as  one  of  the  best  knights?"  said  the  stranger. 
"No,"  he  replied,  "but  as  one  of  the  most  foolish."  The 
stranger  lays  his  head  upon  the  block,  receives  a  blow 
which  sends  it  rolling  from  his  shoulders,  walks  after 
it,  picks  it  up,  replaces  it  with  great  success,  and  says 
he  will  return  when  the  court  shall  be  assembled  next 
year,  and  claim  his  turn.  When  the  anniversary  ar- 
rived, both  parties  were  punctual  to  their  engagement. 
Great  entreaties  were  used  by  the  king  and  queen,  and 
the  whole  court,  in  behalf  of  Caradoc,  but  the  stranger 
was  inflexible.  The  young  knight  laid  his  head  upon 
the  block,  and  more  than  once  desired  him  to  make  an 
end  of  the  business,  and  not  keep  him  longer  in  so  dis- 
agreeable a  state  of  expectation.  At  last  the  stranger 
strikes  him  gently  with  the  side  of  the  sword,  bids  him 


CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS  419 

rise,  and  reveals  to  him  the  fact  that  he  is  his  father, 
the  enchanter  Eliaures,  and  that  he  gladly  owns  him  for 
a  son,  having  proved  his  courage  and  fidelity  to  his 
word. 

But  the  favor  of  enchanters  is  short-lived  and  un- 
certain. Eliaures  fell  under  the  influence  of  a  wicked 
woman,  who,  to  satisfy  her  pique  against  Caradoc,  per- 
suaded the  enchanter  to  fasten  on  his  arm  a  serpent, 
which  remained  there  sucking  at  his  flesh  and  blood, 
no  human  skill  sufficing  either  to  remove  the  reptile 
or  alleviate  the  torments  which  Caradoc  endured. 

Caradoc  was  betrothed  to  Guimier,  sister  to  his  bosom 
friend,  Cador,  and  daughter  to  the  king  of  Cornwall. 
As  soon  as  they  were  informed  of  his  deplorable  con- 
dition, they  set  out  for  Nantes,  where  Caradoc's  castle 
was,  that  Guimier  might  attend  upon  him.  When 
Caradoc  heard  of  their  coming,  his  first  emotion  was 
that  of  joy  and  love.  But  soon  he  began  to  fear  that 
the  sight  of  his  emaciated  form,  and  of  his  sufferings, 
would  disgust  Guimier;  and  this  apprehension  became 
so  strong,  that  he  departed  secretly  from  Nantes,  and 
hid  himself  in  a  hermitage.  He  was  sought  far  and 
near  by  the  knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and  Cador  made 
a  vow  never  to  desist  from  the  quest  till  he  should  have 
found  him.  After  long  wandering,  Cador  discovered 
his  friend  in  the  hermitage,  reduced  almost  to  a  skele- 
ton, and  apparently  near  his  death.  All  other  means  of 
relief  having  already  been  tried  in  vain,  Cador  at  last 
prevailed  on  the  enchanter  Eliaures  to  disclose  the  only 
method  which  could  avail  for  his  rescue.  A  maiden 
must  be  found,  his  equal  in  birth  and  beauty,  and  loving 
him  better  than  herself,  so  that  she  would  expose  her- 
self to  the  same  torment  to  deliver  him.  Two  vessels 
were  then  to  be  provided,  the  one  filled  with  sour  wine, 
and  the  other  with  milk.  Caradoc  must  enter  the  first, 
so  that  the  wine  should  reach  his  neck,  and  the  maiden 
must  get  into  the  other,  and,  exposing  her  bosom  upon 
the  edge  of  the  vessel,  invite  the  serpent  to  forsake 
the  withered  flesh  of  his  victim  for  this  fresh  and  in- 
viting food.  The  vessels  were  to  be  placed  three  feet 
apart,  and  as  the  serpent  crossed  from  one  to  the  other. 


420      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

a  knight  was  to  cut  him  in  two.  If  he  failed  in  his  blow, 
Caradoc  would  indeed  be  delivered,  but  it  would  be  only 
to  see  his  fair  champion  suffering  the  same  cruel  and 
hopeless  torment.  The  sequel  may  be  easily  foreseen. 
Guimier  willingly  exposed  herself  to  the  perilous  ad- 
venture, and  Cador,  with  a  lucky  blow,  killed  the  ser- 
pent. The  arm  in  which  Caradoc  had  suffered  so  long 
recovered  its  strength,  but  not  its  shape,  in  consequence 
of  which  he  was  called  Caradoc  Briefbras,  Caradoc  of 
the  Shrunken  Arm. 

Caradoc  and   Guimier  are  the   hero  and  heroine   of 
the  ballad  of  the  "Boy  and  the  Mantle,"  which  follows : 

"THE  BOY  AND  THE  MANTLE 

"In  Carlisle  dwelt  King  Arthur, 

A  prince  of  passing  might, 
And  there  maintained  his  Table  Round, 
Beset  with  many  a  knight. 

"And  there  he  kept  his  Christmas, 
With  mirth  and  princely  cheer, 
When  lo !  a  strange  and  cunning  boy 
Before  him  did  appear. 

"A  kirtle  and  a  mantle 

This  boy  had  him  upon, 
With  brooches,  rings,  and  ouches, 
Full  daintily  bedone. 

"He  had  a  sash  of  silk 

About  his  middle  meet; 
And  thus  with  seemly  curtesie 
He  did  King  Arthur  greet: 

"  'God  speed  thee,  brave  King  Arthur. 

Thus  feasting  in  thy  bower, 
And  Guenever,  thy  goodly  queen, 
That  fair  and  peerless  flower. 

"  'Ye  gallant  lords  and  lordlings, 

I  wish  you  all  take  heed, 
Lest  what  ye  deem  a  blooming  rose 
Should  prove  a  cankered  weed.' 

"Then  straightway  from  his  bosom 

A  little  wand  he  drew; 
And  with  it  eke  a  mantle, 
Of  wondrous  shape  and  hue. 


CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS  421 

:<<Now  have  thou  here,  King  Arthur, 

Have  this  here  of  me, 
And  give  unto  thy  comely  queen, 
All  shapen  as  you  see. 

"  'No  wife  it  shall  become, 

That  once  hath  been  to  blame.* 
Then  every  knight  in  Arthur's  court 
Sly  glanced  at  his  dame. 

"And  first  came  Lady  Guenever, 

The  mantle  she  must  try. 
This  dame  she  was  new-fangled,1 
And  of  a  roving  eye. 

"When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 

And  all  with  it  was  clad, 
From  top  to  toe  it  shivered  down, 
As  though  with  shears  beshred. 

"One  while  it  was  too  long, 
Another  while  too  short, 
And  wrinkled  on  her  shoulders, 
In  most  unseemly  sort. 

"Now  green,  now  red  it  seemed, 

Then  all  of  sable  hue; 
'Beshrew  me,'  quoth  King  Arthur, 
'I  think  thou  be'st  not  true!' 

"Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 
No  longer  would  she  stay; 
But,  storming  like  a  fury, 
To  her  chamber  flung  away. 

"She  cursed  the  rascal  weaver, 

That  had  the  mantle  wrought; 
And  doubly  cursed  the  froward  imp 
Who  thither  had  it  brought 

"  'I  had  rather  live  in  deserts, 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
Than  here,  base  king,  among  thy  groome 
The  sport  of  them  and  thee/ 

"Sir  Kay  called  forth  his  lady, 

And  bade  her  to  come  near : 
*Yet  dame,  if  thou  be  guilty, 
I  pray  thee  now  forbear.1 

1  New-f an«led — fond  of  novelty. 


422      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"This  lady,  pertly  giggling, 

With  forward  step  came  on, 
And  boldly  to  the  little  boy 
With  fearless  face  is  gone. 

"When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 

With  purpose  for  to  wear, 

It  shrunk  up  to  her  shoulder, 

And  left  her  back  all  bare. 

"Then  every  merry  knight, 

That  was  in  Arthur's  court, 

Gibed  and  laughed  and  flouted, 

To  see  that  pleasant  sport 

"Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 

No  longer  bold  or  gay, 
But,  with  a  face  all  pale  and  wr.* 
To  her  chamber  slunk  away. 

"Then  forth  came  an  old  knight 

A  pattering  o'er  his  creed, 

And  proffered  to  the  little  boy 

Five  nobles   to  his   meed: 

"'And  all  the  time  of  Christmas 
Plum-porridge  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou  wilt  let  my  lady  fair 
Within  the  mantle  shine.' 

"A  saint  his  lady  seemed, 

With  step  demure  and  slow, 
And  gravely  to  the  mantle 
With  mincing  face  doth  go. 

''When  she  the  same  had  taken 

That  was  so  fine  and  thin, 
It  shrivelled  all  about  her, 
And  showed  her  dainty  skin. 

"Ah!  little  did  her  mincing, 

Or  his  long  prayers  bestead; 

She  had  no  more  hung  on  her 

Than  a  tassel  and  a  thread. 

"Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 

With  terror  and  dismay, 
And  with  a  face  of  scarlet 
To  her  chamber  hied  away. 


CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS  423 

"Sir   Cradock   called   his   lady, 

And  bade  her  to  come  near : 
'Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 
And  do  me  credit  here: 

"  'Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 
For  now  it  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou  hast  never  done  amiss, 
Since  first  I  made  thee  mine/ 

"The   lady,    gently   blushing, 

With  modest  grace  came  on; 
And  now  to  try  the  wondrous  charm 
Courageously  is  gone. 

"When  she  had  ta'en  the  mantle, 

And  put  it  on  her  back, 
About  the  hem   it  seemed 
To  wrinkle  and  to  crack. 

"'Lie  still/  she  cried,  'O  mantle! 

And   shame  me  not   for  naught; 
I'll  freely  own  whate'er  amiss 
Or  blameful  I  have  wrought. 

"'Once   I   kissed    Sir  Cradock 

Beneath  the   greenwood  tree; 
Once  1  kissed  Sir  Cradock's  mouth, 
Before  he  married  me/ 

"When  she  had  thus  her  shriven, 
And  her  worst  fault  had  told, 
The  mantle  soon  became  her, 
Right  comely  as  it  should. 

"Most  rich  and  fair  of  color, 

Like  gold  it  glittering  shone, 
And  much  the  knights  in  Arthur's  court 
Admired  her  every  one." 

The  ballad  goes  on  to  tell  of  two  more  trials  of  a 
similar  kind,  made  by  means  of  a  boar's  head  and  a 
drinking  horn,  in  both  of  which  the  result  was  equally 
favorable  with  the  first  to  Sir  Cradock  and  his  lady.  It 
then  concludes  as  follows: 

"Thus  boar's  head,  horn,  and  mantle 

Were  this  fair  couple's  meed; 
And  all  such  constant  lovers, 
God  send  them  well  to  speed." 

— Percy's  Reliques. 


424      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 
CHAPTER   VIII 

LAUNCELOT   OF    THE    LAKE 

KING  BAN,  of  Brittany,  the  faithful  ally  of  Arthur 
was  attacked  by  his  enemy  Claudas,  and  after  a  long 
war  saw  himself  reduced  to  the  possession  of  a  single 
fortress,  where  he  was  besieged  by  his  enemy.  In  this 
extremity  he  determined  to  solicit  the  assistance  of 
Arthur,  and  escaped  in  a  dark  night,  with  his  wife  Helen 
and  his  infant  son  Launcelot,  leaving  his  castle  in  the 
hands  of  his  seneschal,  who  immediately  surrendered 
the  place  to  Claudas.  The  flames  of  his  burning  citadel 
reached  the  eyes  of  the  unfortunate  monarch  during  his 
flight  and  he  expired  with  grief.  The  wretched  Helen, 
leaving  her  child  on  the  brink  of  a  lake,  flew  to  receive 
the  last  sighs  of  her  husband,  and  on  returning  per- 
ceived the  little  Launcelot  in  the  arms  of  a  nymph,  who, 
on  the  approach  of  the  queen,  threw  herself  into  the  lake 
with  the  child.  This  nymph  was  Viviane,  mistress  of 
the  enchanter  Merlin,  better  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Lake.  Launcelot  received  his  appellation 
from  having  been  educated  at  the  court  of  this  en- 
chantress, whose  palace  was  situated  in  the  midst,  not  of 
a  real,  but,  like  the  appearance  which  deceives  the  Afri- 
can traveller,  of  an  imaginary  lake,  whose  deluding  re- 
semblance served  as  a  barrier  to  her  residence.  Here 
she  dwelt  not  alone,  but  in  the  midst  of  a  numerous 
retinue,  and  a  splendid  court  of  knights  and  damsels. 

The  queen,  after  her  double  loss,  retired  to  a  con- 
vent, where  she  was  joined  by  the  widow  of  Bohort, 
for  this  good  king  had  died  of  grief  on  hearing  of  the 
death  of  his  brother  Ban.  His  two  sons,  Lionel  and 
Bohort,  were  rescued  by  a  faithful  knight,  and  arrived 
in  the  shape  of  greyhounds  at  the  palace  of  the  lake, 
where,  having  resumed  their  natural  form,  they  were 
educated  along  with  their  cousin  Launcelot. 

The  fairy,  when  her  pupil  had  attained  the  age  of 
eighteen,  conveyed  him  to  the  court  of  Arthur  for  the 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE  425 

purpose  of  demanding  his  admission  to  the  honor  of 
knighthood;  and  at  the  first  appearance  of  the  youth- 
ful candidate  the  graces  of  his  person,  which  were  not 
inferior  to  his  courage  and  skill  in  arms,  made  an  in- 
stantaneous and  indelible  impression  on  the  heart  of 
Guenever,  while  her  charms  inspired  him  with  an 
equally  ardent  and  constant  passion.  The  mutual  at- 
tachment of  these  lovers  exerted,  from  that  time  forth, 
an  influence  over  the  whole  history  of  Arthur.  For  the 
sake  of  Guenever,  Launcelot  achieved  the  conquest  of 
Northumberland,  defeated  Gallehaut,  King  of  the 
Marches,  who  afterwards  became  his  most  faithful 
friend  and  ally,  exposed  himself  in  numberless  encoun- 
ters, and  brought  hosts  of  prisoners  to  the  feet  of  his 
sovereign. 

SIR   LAUNCELOT 

After  King  Arthur  was  come  from  Rome  into  Eng- 
land all  the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  resorted  unto 
him  and  made  him  many  justs  and  tournaments.  And 
in  especial  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  in  all  tournaments 
and  justs  and  deeds  of  arms,  both  for  life  and  death, 
passed  all  other  knights,  and  was  never  overcome,  ex- 
cept it  were  by  treason  or  enchantment ;  and  he  increased 
marvellously  in  worship,  wherefore  Queen  Guenever  had 
him  in  great  favor,  above  all  other  knights.  And  for 
certain  he  loved  the  queen  again  above  all  other  ladies; 
and  for  her  he  did  many  deeds  of  arms,  and  saved  her 
from  peril,  through  his  noble  chivalry.  Thus  Sir 
Launcelot  rested  him  long  with  play  and  game,  and  then 
he  thought  to  prove  himself  in  strange  adventures;  so 
he  bade  his  nephew,  Sir  Lionel,  to  make  him  ready, — 
"for  we  two  will  seek  adventures."  So  they  mounted 
on  their  horses,  armed  at  all  sights,  and  rode  into  a 
forest,  and  so  into  a  deep  plain.  And  the  weather  was 
hot  about  noon,  and  Sir  Launcelot  had  great  desire  to 
sleep.  Then  Sir  Lionel  espied  a  great  apple-tree  that 
stood  by  a  hedge,  and  he  said :  "Brother,  yonder  is  a  fair 
shadow — there  may  we  rest  us  and  our  horses."  "It  is 
well  said,"  replied  Sir  Launcelot.  So  they  there  alighted, 
and  Sir  Launcelot  laid  him  down,  and  his  helm  under 


426      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

his  head,  and  soon  was  asleep  passing  fast.  And  Sir 
Lionel  waked  while  he  slept.  And  presently  there  came 
three  knights  riding  as  fast  as  ever  they  might  ride,  and 
there  followed  them  but  one  knight.  And  Sir  Lionel 
thought  he  never  saw  so  great  a  knight  before.  So  with- 
in a  while  this  great  knight  overtook  one  of  those 
knights,  and  smote  him  so  that  he  fell  to  the  eartn. 
Then  he  rode  to  the  second  knight  and  smote  him,  and 
so  he  did  to  the  third  knight.  Then  he  alighted  down 
and  bound  all  the  three  knights  fast  with  their  own 
bridles.  When  Sir  Lionel  saw  him  do  thus,  he  thought 
to  assay  him,  and  made  him  ready  silently,  not  to  awake 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  rode  after  the  strong  knight,  and 
bade  him  turn.  And  the  other  smote  Sir  Lionel  so  hard 
that  horse  and  man  fell  to  the  earth;  and  then  he 
alighted  down  and  bound  Sir  Lionel,  and  threw  him 
across  his  own  horse;  and  so  he  served  them  all  four, 
and  rode  with  them  away  to  his  own  castle.  And  when 
he  came  there  he  put  them  in  a  deep  prison,  in  which 
were  many  more  knights  in  great  distress. 

Now  while  Sir  Launcelot  lay  under  the  apple-tree 
sleeping,  there  came  by  him  four  queens  of  great  estate. 
And  that  the  heat  should  not  grieve  them,  there  rode 
four  knights  about  them,  and  bare  a  cloth  of  green  silk 
on  four  spears,  betwixt  them  and  the  sun.  And  the 
queens  rode  on  four  white  mules. 

Thus  as  they  rode  they  heard  by  them  a  great  horse 
grimly  neigh.  Then  they  were  aware  of  a  sleeping 
knight,  that  lay  all  armed  under  an  apple-tree;  and  as 
the  queens  looked  on  his  face,  they  knew  it  was  Sir 
Launcelot.  Then  they  began  to  strive  for  that  knight, 
and  each  one  said  she  would  have  him  for  her  love. 
"We  will  not  strive,"  said  Morgane  le  Fay,  that  was 
King  Arthur's  sister,  "for  I  will  put  an  enchantment 
upon  him,  that  he  shall  not  wake  for  six  hours,  and  we 
will  take  him  away  to  my  castle;  and  then  when  he  is 
surely  within  my  hold,  I  will  take  the  enchantment  from 
him,  and  then  let  him  choose  which  of  us  he  will  have 
for  his  love."  So  the  enchantment  was  cast  upon  Sir 
Launcelot.  And  then  they  laid  him  upon  his  shield,  and 
bare  him  so  on  horseback  between  two  knights,  and 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE  427 

brotight  him  unto  the  castle  and  laid  him  in  a  chamber, 
and  at  night  they  sent  him  his  supper. 

And  on  the  morning  came  early  those  four  queens, 
richly  dight,  and  bade  him  good  morning,  and  he  them 
again.  "Sir  knight,"  they  said,  "thou  must  understand 
thou  art  our  prisoner ;  and  we  know  thee  well,  that  thou 
art  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  King  Ban's  son,  and 
that  thou  art  the  noblest  knight  living.  And  we  know 
well  that  there  can  no  lady  have  thy  love  but  one,  and 
that  is  Queen  Guenever;  and  now  thou  shalt  lose  her 
for  ever,  and  she  thee ;  and  therefore  it  behooveth  thee 
now  to  choose  one  of  us.  I  am  the  Queen  Morgane  le 
Fay,  and  here  is  the  Queen  of  North  Wales,  and  the 
Queen  of  Eastland,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Isles.  Now 
choose  one  of  us  which  thou  wilt  have,  for  if  thou 
choose  not,  in  this  prison  thou  shalt  die."  "This  is  a 
hard  case,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "that  either  I  must  die, 
or  else  choose  one  of  you;  yet  had  I  liever  to  die  in 
this  prison  with  worship,  than  to  have  one  of  you  for 
my  paramour,  for  ye  be  false  enchantresses."  "Well," 
said  the  queens,  "is  this  your  answer,  that  ye  will  refuse 
us."  "Yea,  on  my  life  it  is,"  said  Sir  Launcelot.  Then 
they  departed,  making  great  sorrow. 

Then  at  noon  came  a  damsel  unto  him  with  his  din- 
ner, and  asked  him,  "What  cheer?"  "Truly,  fair  dam- 
sel," said  Sir  Launcelot,  "never  so  ill."  "Sir,"  said  she, 
"if  you  will  be  ruled  by  me,  I  will  help  you  out  of  this 
distress.  If  ye  will  promise  me  to  help  my  father  on 
Tuesday  next,  who  hath  made  a  tournament  betwixt  him 
and  the  king  of  North  Wales ;  for  last  Tuesday  my 
father  lost  the  field."  "Fair  maiden,"  said  Sir  Launce- 
lot, "tell  me  what  is  your  father's  name,  and  then  will 
I  give  you  an  answer."  "Sir  knight,"  she  said,  "my 
father  is  King  Bagdemagtis."  "I  know  him  well,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "for  a  noble  king  and  a  good  knight;  and, 
by  the  faith  of  my  body,  I  will  be  ready  to  do  your 
father  and  you  service  at  that  day." 

So  she  departed,  and  came  on  the  next  morning  early 
and  found  him  ready,  and  brought  him  out  of  twelve 
locks,  and  brought  him  to  his  own  horse,  and  lightly  he 
saddled  him,  and  so  rode  forth. 


428       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

And  on  the  Tuesday  next  he  came  to  a  little  wood 
where  the  tournament  should  be.  And  there  were  scaf- 
folds and  holds,  that  lords  and  ladies  might  look  on, 
and  give  the  prize.  Then  came  into  the  field  the  king 
of  North  Wales,  with  eightscore  helms,  and  King  Badge- 
magus  came  with  fourscore  helms.  And  then  they 
couched  their  spears,  and  came  together  with  a  great 
dash,  and  there  were  overthrown  at  the  first  encounter 
twelve  of  King  Bagdemagus's  party  and  six  of  the  king 
of  North  Wales's  party,  and  King  Bagdemagus's  party 
had  the  worse. 

With  that  came  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  thrust 
in  with  his  spear  in  the  thickest  of  the  press;  and  he 
smote  down  five  knights  ere  he  held  his  hand;  and  he 
smote  down  the  king  of  North  Wales,  and  he  brake  his 
thigh  in  that  fall.  And  then  the  knights  of  the  king 
of  North  Wales  would  just  no  more;  and  so  the  gree 
was  given  to  King  Bagdemagus. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  forth  with  King  Bagdemagus 
unto  his  castle;  and  there  he  had  passing  good  cheer, 
both  with  the  king  and  with  his  daughter.  And  on  the 
morn  he  took  his  leave,  and  told  the  king  he  would 
go  and  seek  his  brother,  Sir  Lionel,  that  went  from  him 
when  he  slept.  So  he  departed,  and  by  adventure  he 
came  to  the  same  forest  where  he  was  taken  sleeping. 
And  in  the  highway  he  met  a  damsel  riding  on  a  white 
palfrey,  and  they  saluted  each  other.  "Fair  damsel," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "know  ye  in  this  country  any  ad- 
ventures?'* "Sir  knight,"  said  the  damsel,  "here  are 
adventures  near  at  hand,  if  thou  durst  pursue  them." 
"Why  should  I  not  prove  adventures?"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "since  for  that  cause  came  I  hither."  "Sir," 
said  she,  "hereby  dwelleth  a  knight  that  will  not  be 
overmatched  for  any  man  I  know,  except  thou  over- 
match him.  His  name  is  Sir  Turquine,  and,  as  I  un- 
derstand, he  is  a  deadly  enemy  of  King  Arthur,  and 
he  has  in  his  prison  good  knights  of  Arthur's  court, 
threescore  and  more,  that  he  hath  won  with  his  own 
hands."  "Damsel,"  said  Launcelot,  "I  pray  you  bring 
me  unto  this  knight."  So  she  told  him,  "Hereby,  within 
this  mile,  is  his  castle,  and  by  it  on  the  left  hand  is  a 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE  429 

ford  for  horses  to  drink  of,  and  over  that  ford  there 
groweth  a  fair  tree,  and  on  that  tree  hang  many  shields 
that  good  knights  wielded  aforetime,  that  are  now  pris- 
oners; and  on  the  tree  hangeth  a  basin  of  copper  and 
latten,  and  if  thou  strike  upon  that  basin  thou  shalt  hear 
tidings."  And  Sir  Launcelot  departed,  and  rode  as  the 
damsel  had  shown  him,  and  shortly  he  came  to  the  ford, 
and  the  tree  where  hung  the  shields  and  the  basin.  And 
among  the  shields  he  saw  Sir  Lionel's  and  Sir  Hector's 
shields,  besides  many  others  of  knights  that  he  knew. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  struck  on  the  basin  with  the  butt 
of  his  spear;  and  long  he  did  so,  but  he  saw  no  man. 
And  at  length  he  was  ware  of  a  great  knight  that  drove 
a  horse  before  him,  and  across  the  horse  there  lay  an 
armed  knight  bounden.  And  as  they  came  near,  Sir 
Launcelot  thought  he  should  know  the  captive  knight. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  that  it  was  Sir  Gaheris,  Sir 
Gawain's  brother,  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round.  "Now, 
fair  knight,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "put  that  wounded 
knight  off  the  horse,  and  let  him  rest  awhile,  and  let  us 
two  prove  our  strength.  For,  as  it  is  told  me,  thou  hast 
done  great  despite  and  shame  unto  knights  of  the  Round 
Table,  therefore  now  defend  thee."  "If  thou  be  of  the 
Table  Round,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "I  defy  thee  and  all 
thy  fellowship."  "That  is  overmuch  said,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot. 

Then  they  put  their  spears  in  the  rests,  and  came 
together  with  their  horses  as  fast  as  they  might  run. 
And  each  smote  the  other  in  the  middle  of  their  shields, 
so  that  their  horses  fell  under  them,  and  the  knights 
were  both  staggered;  and  as  soon  as  they  could  clear 
their  horses  they  drew  out  their  swords  and  came  to- 
gether eagerly,  and  each  gave  the  other  many  strong 
strokes,  for  neither  shield  nor  harness  might  withstand 
their  strokes.  So  within  a  while  both  had  grimly 
wounds,  and  bled  grievously.  Then  at  the  last  they 
were  breathless  both,  and  stood  leaning  upon  their 
swords.  "Now,  fellow,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "thou  art 
the  stoutest  man  that  ever  I  met  with,  and  best  breathed ; 
and  so  be  it  thou  be  not  the  knight  that  I  hate  above  all 
other  knights,  the  knight  that  slew  my  brother,  Sir 


430      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Caraclos,  I  will  gladly  accord  with  thee;  and  for  thy 
love  I  will  deliver  all  the  prisoners  that  I  have." 

"What  knight  is  he  that  thou  hatest  so  above  others?" 
"Truly,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  "his  name  is  Sir  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake."  "I  am  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  King 
Ban's  son  of  Benwick,  and  very  knight  of  the  Table 
Round;  and  now  I  defy  thee  do  thy  best."  "Ah!"  said 
Sir  Turquine,  "Launcelot,  thou  art  to  me  the  most  wel- 
come that  ever  was  knight;  for  we  shall  never  part  till 
the  one  of  us  be  dead."  And  then  they  hurtled  together 
like  two  wild  bulls,  rashing  and  lashing  with  their  swords 
and  shields,  so  that  sometimes  they  fell,  as  it  were, 
headlong.  Thus  they  fought  two  hours  and  more,  till 
the  ground  where  they  fought  was  all  bepurpled  with 
blood. 

Then  at  the  last  Sir  Turquine  waxed  sore  faint,  and 
gave  somewhat  aback,  and  bare  his  shield  full  low  for 
weariness.  That  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  and  leapt  then 
upon  him  fiercely  as  a  lion,  and  took  him  by  the  beaver 
of  his  helmet,  and  drew  him  down  on  his  knees.  And 
he  raised  off  his  helm,  and  smote  his  neck  in  sunder. 

And  Sir  Gaheris,  when  he  saw  Sir  Turquine  slain, 
said,  "Fair  lord,  I  pray  you  tell  me  your  name,  for  this 
day  I  say  ye  are  the  best  knight  in  the  world,  for  ye 
have  slain  this  day  in  my  sight  the  mightiest  man  and 
the  best  knight  except  you  that  ever  I  saw."  "Sir,  my 
name  is  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac,  that  ought  to  help  you 
of  right  for  King  Arthur's  sake,  and  in  especial  for 
Sir  Gawain's  sake,  your  own  dear  brother.  Now  I  pray 
you,  that  ye  go  into  yonder  castle,  and  set  free  all  the 
prisoners  ye  find  there,  for  I  am  sure  ye  shall  find  there 
many  knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  especially  my 
brother  Sir  Lionel.  I  pray  you  greet  them  all  from 
me,  and  tell  them  I  bid  them  take  there  such  stuff  as 
they  find;  and  tell  my  brother  to  go  unto  the  court  and 
abide  me  there,  for  by  the  feast  of  Pentecost  I  think 
to  be  there;  but  at  this  time  I  may  not  stop,  for  I  have 
adventures  on  hand."  So  he  departed,  and  Sir  Gaheris 
rode  into  the  castle,  and  took  the  keys  from  the  porter, 
and  hastily  opened  the  prison  door  and  let  out  all  the 
prisoners.  There  was  Sir  Kay,  Sir  Brandeles,  and  Sir 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE  431 

Galynde,  Sir  Bryan,  and  Sir  Alyduke,  Sir  Hector  de 
Marys,  and  Sir  Lionel,  and  many  more.  And  when 
they  saw  Sir  Gaheris  they  all  thanked  him,  for  they 
thought,  because  he  was  wounded,  that  he  had  slain  Sir 
Turquine.  "Not  so,"  said  Sir  Gaheris;  "it  was  Sir 
Launcelot  that  slew  him,  right  worshipfully ;  I  saw  it 
with  mine  eyes." 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  till  at  nightfall  he  came  to  a  fair 
castle,  and  therein  he  found  an  old  gentlewoman,  who 
lodged  him  with  good-will,  and  there  he  had  good  cheer 
for  him  and  his  horse.  And  when  time  was,  his  host 
brought  him  to  a  fair  chamber  over  the  gate  to  his  bed. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  unarmed  him,  and  set  his  harness 
by  him,  and  went  to  bed,  and  anon  he  fell  asleep.  And 
soon  after,  there  came  one  on  horseback  and  knocked 
at  the  gate  in  great  haste ;  and  when  Sir  Launcelot  heard 
this,  he  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  saw 
by  the  moonlight  three  knights  riding  after  that  one 
man,  and  all  three  lashed  on  him  with  their  swords,  and 
that  one  knight  turned  on  them  knightly  again  and  de- 
fended himself.  "Truly,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "yonder 
one  knight  will  I  help,  for  it  is  shame  to  see  three 
knights  on  one."  Then  he  took  his  harness  and  went 
out  at  the  window  by  a  sheet  down  to  the  four  knights  * 
and  he  said  aloud,  "Turn  you  knights  unto  me,  and 
leave  your  fighting  with  that  knight."  Then  the  knights 
left  Sir  Kay,  for  it  was  he  they  were  upon,  and  turned 
unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  struck  many  great  strokes  at 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  assailed  him  on  every  side.  Then  Sir 
Kay  addressed  him  to  help  Sir  Launcelot,  but  he  said, 
"Nay,  sir,  I  will  none  of  your  help;  let  me  alone  with 
them."  So  Sir  Kay  suffered  him  to  do  his  will,  and 
^tood  one  side.  And  within  six  strokes  Sir  Launcelot 
had  stricken  them  down. 

Then  they  all  cried,  "Sir  knight,  we  yield  us  unto 
you."  "As  to  that,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "I  will  not  take 
your  yielding  unto  me.  If  so  be  ye  will  yield  you  unto 
Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  I  will  save  your  lives,  but  else 
not."  "Fair  knight,"  then  they  said,  "we  will  do  as 
thou  commandest  us."  "Then  shall  ye,"  said  Sir  Launce- 
lot, "on  Whitsunday  next,  go  unto  the  court  of  King 


432      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Arthur,  and  there  shall  ye  yield  you  unto  Queen 
Guenever,  and  say  that  Sir  Kay  sent  you  thither  to  be 
her  prisoners."  "Sir,"  they  said,  "it  shall  be  done,  by 
the  faith  of  our  bodies;"  and  then  they  swore,  every 
knight  upon  his  sword.  And  so  Sir  Launcelot  suffered 
them  to  depart. 

On  the  morn  Sir  Launcelot  rose  early  and  left  Sir 
Kay  sleeping;  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  Sir  Kay's  armor, 
and  his  shield,  and  armed  him,  and  went  to  the  stable 
and  took  his  horse,  and  so  he  departed.  Then  soon 
after  arose  Sir  Kay,  and  missed  Sir  Launcelot.  And 
then  he  espied  that  he  had  taken  his  armor  and  his 
horse.  "Now,  by  my  faith,  I  know  well,"  said  Sir  Kay, 
"that  he  will  grieve  some  of  King  Arthur's  knights,  for 
they  will  deem  that  it  is  I,  and  will  be  bold  to  meet  him. 
But  by  cause  of  his  armor  I  am  sure  I  shall  ride  in 
peace."  Then  Sir  Kay  thanked  his  host  and  departed. 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  in  a  deep  forest,  and  there  he  saw 
four  knights,  under  an  oak,  and  they  were  of  Arthur's 
court.  There  was  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus,  and 
Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Gawain,  and  Sir  Uwaine.  As 
they  spied  Sir  Launcelot  they  judged  by  his  arms  it 
had  been  Sir  Kay.  "Now,  by  my  faith,"  said  Sir 
Sagramour,  "I  will  prove  Sir  Kay's  might;"  and  got 
his  spear  in  his  hand,  and  came  towards  Sir  Launcelot. 
Therewith  Sir  Launcelot  couched  his  spear  against  him, 
and  smote  Sir  Sagramour  so  sore  that  horse  and  man 
fell  both  to  the  earth.  Then  said  Sir  Hector,  "Now  shah 
ye  see  what  I  may  do  with  him."  But  he  fared  worse 
than  Sir  Sagramour,  for  Sir  Launcelot's  spear  went 
through  his  shoulder  and  bare  him  from  his  horse  to  the 
ground.  "By  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Uwaine,  "yonder  is  a 
strong  knight,  and  I  fear  he  hath  slain  Sir  Kay,  and 
taken  his  armor."  And  therewith  Sir  Uwaine  took  his 
spear  in  hand,  and  rode  toward  Sir  Launcelot;  and  Sir 
Launcelot  met  him  on  the  plain  and  gave  him  such  a 
buffet  that  he  was  staggered,  and  wist  not  where  he  was. 
"Now  see  I  well,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "that  I  must  en- 
counter with  that  knight."  Then  he  adjusted  his  shield, 
and  took  a  good  spear  in  his  hand,  and  Sir  Launcelot 
knew  him  well.  Then  they  let  run  their  horses  with 


LAUNCELOT  OF  THE  LAKE  433 

all  their  mights,  and  each  knight  smote  the  other  in  the 
middle  of  his  shield.  But  Sir  Gawain's  spear  broke,  and 
Sir  Launcelot  charged  so  sore  upon  him  that  his  horse 
fell  over  backward.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  passed  by 
smiling  with  himself,  and  he  said,  "Good  luck  be  with 
him  that  made  this  spear,  for  never  came  a  better  into 
my  hand."  Then  the  four  knights  went  each  to  the 
other  and  comforted  one  another.  "What  say  ye  to  this 
adventure,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "that  one  spear  hath  felled 
us  all  four?"  "I  dare  lay  my  head  it  is  Sir  Launcelot," 
said  Sir  Hector;  "I  know  it  by  his  riding." 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  through  many  strange  coun- 
tries, till  by  fortune  he  came  to  a  fair  castle;  and  as 
he  passed  beyond  the  castle  he  thought  he  heard  two 
bells  ring.  And  then  he  perceived  how  a  falcon  came 
flying  over  his  head,  toward  a  high  elm;  and  she  had 
long  lunys1  about  her  feet,  and  she  flew  unto  the  elm 
to  take  her  perch,  and  the  lunys  got  entangled  in  the 
bough;  and  when  she  would  have  taken  her  flight,  she 
hung  by  the  legs  fast,  and  Sir  Launcelot  saw  how  she 
hung,  and  beheld  the  fair  falcon  entangled,  and  he  was 
sorry  for  her.  Then  came  a  lady  out  of  the  castle  and 
cried  aloud,  "O  Launcelot,  Launcelot,  as  thou  art  the 
flower  of  all  knights,  help  me  to  get  my  hawk;  for  if 
my  hawk  be  lost,  my  lord  will  slay  me,  he  is  so  hasty." 
"What  is  your  lord's  name?"  said  Sir  Launcelot.  "His 
name  is  Sir  Phelot,  a  knight  that  belongeth  to  the  king 
of  North  Wales."  "Well,  fair  lady,  since  ye  know  my 
name,  and  require  me  of  knighthood  to  help  you,  I  will 
do  what  I  may  to  get  your  hawk;  and  yet  in  truth  I 
am  an  ill  climber,  and  the  tree  is  passing  high,  and  few 
boughs  to  help  me."  And  therewith  Sir  Launcelot 
alighted  and  tied  his  horse  to  the  tree,  and  prayed  the 
lady  to  unarm  him.  And  when  he  was  unarmed,  he  put 
off  his  jerkin,  and  with  might  and  force  he  clomb  up 
to  the  falcon,  and  tied  the  lunys  to  a  rotten  bough,  and 
threw  the  hawk  down  with  it;  and  the  lady  got  the 
hawk  in  her  hand.  Then  suddenly  there  came  out  of 
the  castle  her  husband,  all  armed,  and  with  his  naked 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  said,  "O  Knight  Launcelot,  now 

1  Lunys,  the  string  with  which  the  falcon  is  held. 


434       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

have  I  got  thee  as  I  would,"  and  stood  at  the  boll  of  the 
tree  to  slay  him.  "Ah,  lady !"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "why 
have  ye  betrayed  me?"  "She  hath  done/'  said  Sir 
Phelot,  "but  as  I  commanded  her;  and  therefore  there 
is  none  other  way  but  thine  hour  is  come,  and  thou 
must  die."  "That  were  shame  unto  thee,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot;  "thou  an  armed  knight  to  slay  a  naked  man 
by  treason."  "Thou  gettest  none  other  grace,"  said  Sir 
Phelot,  "and  therefore  help  thyself  if  thou  canst." 
"Alas !"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "that  ever  a  knight  should 
die  weaponless !"  And  therewith  he  turned  his  eyes  up- 
ward and  downward;  and  over  his  head  he  saw  a  big 
bough  leafless,  and  he  brake  it  off  from  the  trunk.  And 
then  he  came  lower,  and  watched  how  his  own  horse 
stood;  and  suddenly  he  leapt  on  the  further  side  of  his 
horse  from  the  knight.  Then  Sir  Phelot  lashed  at  him 
eagerly,  meaning  to  have  slain  him.  But  Sir  Launcelot 
put  away  the  stroke,  with  the  big  bough,  and  smote  Sir 
Phelot  therewith  on  the  side  of  the  head,  so  that  he 
fell  down  in  a  swoon  to  the  ground.  Then  Sir  Launce- 
lot took  his  sword  out  of  his  hand  and  struck  his  head 
from  the  body.  Then  said  the  lady,  "Alas!  why  hast 
thou  slain  my  husband?"  "I  am  not  the  cause,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "for  with  falsehood  ye  would  have  slain 
me,  and  now  it  is  fallen  on  yourselves."  Thereupon 
Sir  Launcelot  got  all  his  armor,  and  put  it  upon  him 
hastily,  for  fear  of  more  resort,  for  the  knight's  castle 
was  so  nigh.  And  as  soon  as  he  might,  he  took  his  horse 
and  departed,  and  thanked  God  he  had  escaped  that 
adventure. 

And  two  days  before  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Sir 
Launcelot  came  home;  and  the  king  and  all  the  court 
were  passing  glad  of  his  coming.  And  when  Sir  Gawain, 
Sir  Uwaine,  Sir  Sagramour,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys 
saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  Sir  Kay's  armor  then  they  wist 
well  it  was  he  that  smote  them  down,  all  with  one  spear. 
Then  there  was  laughing  and  merriment  among  them; 
and  from  time  to  time  came  all  the  knights  that  Sir 
Turquine  had  prisoners,  and  they  all  honored  and  wor- 
shipped Sir  Launcelot.  Then  Sir  Gaheris  said,  "I  saw 
all  the  battle  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,"  and  he 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART   435 

told  King  Arthur  all  how  it  was.  Then  Sir  Kay  told 
the  king  how  Sir  Launcelot  had  rescued  him,  and  how 
he  "made  the  knights  yield  to  me,  and  not  to  him." 
And  there  they  were,  all  three,  and  confirmed  it  all 
"And,  by  my  faith/'  said  Sir  Kay,  "because  Sir  Launce- 
lot took  my  harness  and  left  me  his,  I  rode  in  peace, 
and  no  man  would  have  to  do  with  me." 

And  so  at  that  time  Sir  Launcelot  had  the  greatest 
name  of  any  knight  of  the  world,  and  most  was  he 
honored  of  high  and  low. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE    ADVENTURE    OF    THE    CART 

IT  befell  in  the  month  of  May,  Queen  Guenever 
called  to  her  knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  gave 
them  warning  that  early  upon  the  morrow  she  would 
ride  a-maying  into  the  woods  and  fields  beside  West- 
minster; "and  I  warn  you  that  there  be  none  of  you 
but  he  be  well  horsed,  and  that  ye  all  be  clothed  in  green, 
either  silk  or  cloth;  and  I  shall  bring  with  me  ten 
ladies,  and  every  knight  shall  have  a  lady  behind  him, 
and  every  knight  shall  have  a  squire  and  two  yeoman, 
and  all  well  horsed." 

"For  thus  it  chanced  one  morn  when  all  the  court, 
Green-suited,  but  with  plumes  that  mock'd  the  May, 
Had  been,  their  wont,  a-maying/' 

— Guinevere. 

So  they  made  them  ready;  and  these  were  the  names  of 
the  knights:  Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  Sir  Agrivaine,  Sir 
Brandiles,  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus,  Sir  Dodynas  le 
Sauvage,  Sir  Ozanna,  Sir  Ladynas,  Sir  Persant  of  Inde, 
Sir  Ironside,  and  Sir  Pelleas;  and  these  ten  knights 
made  them  ready,  in  the  freshest  manner,  to  ride  with 
the  queen.  So  upon  the  morn  they  took  their  horses 
with  the  queen,  and  rode  a-maying  in  woods  and  mead- 
ows, as  it  pleased  them,  in  great  joy  and  delight.  Now 


436       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

there  was  a  knight  named  Maleagans,  son  to  King 
Brademagus,  who  loved  Queen  Guenever  passing  well, 
and  so  had  he  done  long  and  many  years.  Now  this 
knight,  Sir  Maleagans,  learned  the  queen's-  purpose,  and 
that  she  had  no  men  of  arms  with  her  but  the  ten  noble 
knights  all  arrayed  in  green  for  maying;  so  he  prepared 
him  twenty  men  of  arms,  and  a  hundred  archers,  to  take 
captive  the  queen  and  her  knights. 

"In  the  merry  month  of  May, 
In  a  morn  at  break  of  day, 
With  a  troop  of  damsels  playing, 
The  Queen,  forsooth,  went  forth  a-maying." 

—Old  Song. 

So  when  the  queen  had  mayed,  and  all  were  bedecked 
with  herbs,  mosses,  and  flowers  in  the  best  manner  and 
freshest,  right  then  came  out  of  a  wood  Sir  Maleagans 
with  eightscore  men  well  harnessed,  and  bade  the  queen 
and  her  knights  yield  them  prisoners.  "Traitor  knight," 
said  Queen  Guenever,  "what  wilt  thou  do?  Wilt  thou 
shame  thyself?  Bethink  thee  how  thou  art  a  king's 
son,  and  a  knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  how  thou  art 
about  to  dishonor  all  knighthood  and  thyself  ?"  "Be  it 
as  it  may/5  said  Sir  Maleagans,  "know  you  well,  madam, 
I  have  loved  you  many  a  year  and  never  till  now  could 
I  get  you  to  such  advantage  as  I  do  now ;  and  therefore 
I  will  take  you  as  I  find  you."  Then  the  ten  knights  of 
the  Round  Table  drew  their  swords,  and  the  other  party 
run  at  them  with  their  spears,  and  the  ten  knights  man- 
fully abode  them,  and  smote  away  their  spears.  Then 
they  lashed  together  with  swords  till  several  were  smit- 
ten to  the  earth.  So  when  the  queen  saw  her  knights 
thus  dolefully  oppressed,  and  needs  must  be  slain  at  the 
last,  then  for  pity  and  sorrow  she  cried,  "Sir  Maleagans, 
slay  not  my  noble  knights  and  I  will  go  with  you,  upon 
this  covenant,  that  they  be  led  with  me  wheresoever  thou 
leadest  me."  "Madame/*  said  Maleagans,  "for  your 
sake  they  shall  be  led  with  you  into  my  own  castle,  if 
that  ye  will  be  ruled,  and  ride  with  me."  Then  Sir 
Maleagans  charged  them  all  that  none  should  depart 
from  the  queen,  for  he  dreaded  lest  Sir  Launcelot  should 
have  knowledge  of  what  had  been  done. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART   437 

Then  the  queen  privily  called  unto  her  a  page  of  her 
chamber  that  was  swiftly  horsed,  to  whom  she  said, 
"Go  thou  when  thou  seest  thy  time,  and  bear  this  ring 
unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  pray  him  as  he  loveth  me, 
that  he  will  see  me  and  rescue  me.  And  spare  not  thy 
horse,"  said  the  queen,  "neither  for  water  nor  for  land." 
So  the  child  espied  his  time,  and  lightly  he  took  his 
horse  with  the  spurs  and  departed  as  fast  as  he  might. 
And  when  Sir  Maleagans  saw  him  so  flee,  he  under- 
stood that  it  was  by  the  queen's  commandment  for  to 
warn  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  that  were  best  horsed 
chased  him,  and  shot  at  him,  but  the  child  went  from 
them  all.  Then  Sir  Maleagans  said  to  the  queen, 
"Madam,  ye  are  about  to  betray  me,  but  I  shall  ar- 
range for  Sir  Launcelot  that  he  shall  not  come  lightly 
at  you."  Then  he  rode  with  her  and  them  all  to  his 
castle,  in  all  the  haste  that  they  might.  And  by  the  way 
Sir  Maleagans  laid  in  ambush  the  best  archers  that  he 
had  to  wait  for  Sir  Launcelot.  And  the  child  came  to 
Westminster  and  found  Sir  Launcelot  and  told  his  mes- 
sage and  delivered  him  the  queen's  ring.  "Alas !"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "now  am  I  shamed  for  ever,  unless  I 
may  rescue  that  noble  lady."  Then  eagerly  he  asked 
his  armor  and  put  it  on  him,  and  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  as  fast  as  he  might ;  and  men  say  he  took  the  water 
at  Westminster  Bridge,  and  made  his  horse  swim  over 
Thames  unto  Lambeth.  Then  within  a  while  he  came 
to  a  wood  where  *vas  a  narrow  way ;  and  there  the 
archers  were  laid  in  ambush.  And  they  shot  at  him  and 
smote  his  horse  so  that  he  fell.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  left 
his  horse  and  went  on  foot,  but  there  lay  so  many 
ditches  and  hedges  betwixt  the  archers  and  him  that 
he  might  not  meddle  with  them.  "Alas!  for  shame," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "that  ever  one  knight  should  betray 
another!  but  it  is  an  old 'saw,  a  good  man  is  never  in 
danger,  but  when  he  is  in  danger  of  a  coward."  Then 
Sir  Launcelot  went  awhile  and  he  was  exceedingly  cum- 
bered by  his  armor,  his  shield,  and  his  spear,  and  all 
that  belonged  to  him.  Then  by  chance  there  came  by 
him  a  cart  that  came  thither  to  fetch  wood. 

Now  at  this  time  carts  were  little  used  except  for 


438       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

carrying  offal  and  for  conveying  criminals  to  execution. 
But  Sir  Launcelot  took  no  thought  of  anything  but  the 
necessity  of  haste  for  the  purpose  of  rescuing  the  queen  ; 
so  he  demanded  of  the  carter  that  he  should  take  him 
in  and  convey  him  as  speedily  as  possible  for  a  liberal 
reward.  The  carter  consented,  and  Sir  Launcelot  placed 
himself  in  the  cart  and  only  lamented  that  with  much 
jolting  he  made  but  little  progress.  Then  it  happened 
Sir  Gawain  passed  by  and  seeing  an  armed  knight  travel- 
ling in  that  unusual  way  he  drew  near  to  see  who  it 
might  be.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  told  him  how  the  queen 
had  been  carried  off,  and  how,  in  hastening  to  her  res- 
cue, his  horse  had  been  disabled  and  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  avail  himself  of  the  cart  rather  than  give  up 
his  enterprise.  Then  Sir  Gawain  said,  "Surely  it  is  un- 
worthy of  a  knight  to  travel  in  such  sort;"  but  Sir 
Launcelot  heeded  him  not. 

At  nightfall  they  arrived  at  a  castle  and  the  lady 
thereof  came  out  at  the  head  of  her  damsels  to  welcome 
Sir  Gawain.  But  to  admit  his  companion,  whom  she 
supposed  to  be  a  criminal,  or  at  least  a  prisoner,  it 
pleased  her  not;  however,  to  oblige  Sir  Gawain,  she 
consented.  At  supper  Sir  Launcelot  came  near  being 
consigned  to  the  kitchen  and  was  only  admitted  to  the 
lady's  table  at  the  earnest  solicitation  of  Sir  Gawain. 
Neither  would  the  damsels  prepare  a  bed  for  him.  He 
seized  the  first  he  found  unoccupied  and  was  left  un- 
disturbed. 

Next  morning  he  saw  from  the  turrets  of  the  castle  a 
train  accompanying  a  lady,  whom  he  imagined  to  be  the 
queen.  Sir  Gawain  thought  it  might  be  so,  and  became 
equally  eager  to  depart.  The  lady  of  the  castle  sup- 
plied Sir  Launcelot  with  a  horse  and  they  traversed 
the  plain  at  full  speed.  They  learned  from  some  trav- 
ellers whom  they  met,  that  there  were  two  roads  which 
led  to  the  castle  of  Sir  Maleagans.  Here  therefore  the 
friends  separated.  Sir  Launcelot  found  his  way  beset 
with  obstacles,  which  he  encountered  successfully,  but  not 
without  much  loss  of  time.  As  evening  approached  he 
was  met  by  a  young  and  sportive  damsel,  who  gayly 
proposed  to  him  a  supper  at  her  castle.  The  knight, 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART   439 

who  was  hungry  and  weary,  accepted  the  offer,  though 
with  no  very  good  grace.  He  followed  the  lady  to  her 
castle  and  ate  voraciously  of  her  supper,  but  was  quite 
impenetrable  to  all  her  amorous  advances.  Suddenly 
the  scene  changed  and  he  was  assailed  by  six  furious 
ruffians,  whom  he  dealt  with  so  vigorously  that  most  of 
them  were  speedily  disabled,  when  again  there  was  a 
change  and  he  found  himself  alone  with  his  fair  hostess, 
who  informed  him  that  she  was  none  other  than  his 
guardian  fairy,  who  had  but  subjected  him  to  tests  of 
his  courage  and  fidelity.  The  next  day  the  fairy  brought 
him  on  his  road,  and  before  parting  gave  him  a  ring, 
which  she  told  him  would  by  its  changes  of  color  dis- 
close to  him  all  enchantments,  and  enable  him  to  subdue 
them. 

Sir  Launcelot  pursued  his  journey,  without  being 
much  incommoded  except  by  the  taunts  of  travellers, 
who  all  seemed  to  have  learned,  by  some  means,  his 
disgraceful  drive  in  the  cart.  One,  more  insolent  than 
the  rest,  had  the  audacity  to  interrupt  him  during  din- 
ner, and  even  to  risk  a  battle  in  support  of  his  pleasan- 
try. Launcelot,  after  an  easy  victory,  only  doomed 
him  to  be  carted  in  his  turn. 

At  night  he  was  received  at  another  castle,  with  great 
apparent  hospitality,  but  found  himself  in  the  morning 
in  a  dungeon,  and  loaded  with  chains.  Consulting  his 
ring,  and  finding  that  this  was  an  enchantment,  he  burst 
his  chains,  seized  his  armor  in  spite  of  the  visionary 
monsters  who  attempted  to  defend  it,  broke  open  the 
gates  of  the  tower,  and  continued  his  journey.  At  length 
his  progress  was  checked  by  a  wide  and  rapid  torrent, 
which  could  only  be  passed  on  a  narrow  bridge,  on 
which  a  false  step  would  prove  his  destruction.  Launce- 
lot, leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  making  him 
swim  by  his  side,  passed  over  the  bridge,  and  was  at- 
tacked as  soon  as  he  reached  the  bank  by  a  lion  and 
a  leopard,  both  of  which  he  slew,  and  then,  exhausted 
and  bleeding,  seated  himself  on  the  grass,  and  endeav- 
ored to  bind  up  his  wounds,  when  he  was  accosted  by 
Brademagus,  the  father  of  Maleagans,  whose  castle  was 
then  in  sight,  and  at  no  great  distance.  This  king,  no 


440       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

less  courteous  than  his  son  was  haughty  and  insolent, 
after  complimenting  Sir  Launcelot  on  the  valor  and 
skill  he  had  displayed  in  the  perils  of  the  bridge  and 
the  wild  beasts,  offered  him  his  assistance,  and  informed 
him  that  the  queen  was  safe  in  his  castle,  but  could  only 
be  rescued  by  encountering  Maleagans.  Launcelot  de- 
manded the  battle  for  the  next  day,  and  accordingly  it 
took  place,  at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  and  under  the  eyes 
of  the  fair  captive.  Launcelot  was  enfeebled  by  his 
wounds,  and  fought  not  with  his  usual  spirit,  and  the 
contest  for  a  time  was  doubtful ;  till  Guenever  exclaimed, 
"Ah,  Launcelot!  my  knight,  truly  have  I  been  told  that 
thou  art  no  longer  worthy  of  me!"  These  words  in- 
stantly revived  the  drooping  knight ;  he  resumed  at  once 
his  usual  superiority,  and  soon  laid  at  his  feet  his 
haughty  adversary. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  sacrificing  him  to  his  resent- 
ment, when  Guenever,  moved  by  the  entreaties  of  Brade- 
magus,  ordered  him  to  withhold  the  blow,  and  he  obeyed. 
The  castle  and  its  prisoners  were  now  at  his  disposal. 
Launcelot  hastened  to  the  apartment  of  the  queen,  threw 
himself  at  her  feet,  and  was  about  to  kiss  her  hand, 
when  she  exclaimed,  "Ah,  Launcelot!  why  do  I  see  thee 
again,  yet  feel  thee  to  be  no  longer  worthy  of  me,  after 
having  been  disgracefully  drawn  about  the  country  in 
a  — "  She  had  not  time  to  finish  the  phrase,  for  her 
lover  suddenly  started  from  her,  and,  bitterly  lamenting 
that  he  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of  his  sovereign 
lady,  rushed  out  of  the  castle,  threw  his  sword  and  his 
shield  to  the  right  and  left,  ran  furiously  into  the  woods, 
and  disappeared. 

It  seems  that  the  story  of  the  abominable  cart,  which 
haunted  Launcelot  at  every  step,  had  reached  the  ears 
of  Sir  Kay,  who  had  told  it  to  the  queen,  as  a  proof 
that  her  knight  mast  have  been  dishonored.  But 
Guenever  had  full  leisure  to  repent  the  haste  with  which 
she  had  given  credit  to  the  tale.  Three  days  elapsed, 
during  which  Launcelot  wandered  without  knowing 
where  he  went,  till  at  last  he  began  to  reflect  that  his 
mistress  had  doubtless  been  deceived  by  misrepresen- 
tation, and  that  it  was  his  duty  to  set  her  right.  He 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT  441 

therefore  returned,  compelled  Maleagans  to  release  his 
prisoners,  and,  taking  the  road  by  which  they  expected 
the  arrival  of  Sir  Gawain,  had  the  satisfaction  of  n»eet- 
ing  him  the  next  day;  after  which  the  whole  company 
proceeded  gayly  towards  Camelot. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   LADY   OF   SHALOTT 

KING  ARTHUR  proclaimed  a  solemn  tournament  to  be 
held  at  Winchester.  The  king,  not  less  impatient  than 
his  knights  for  this  festival,  set  off  some  days  before  to 
superintend  the  preparations,  leaving  the  queen  with  her 
court  at  Camelot.  Sir  Launcelot,  under  pretence  of  in- 
disposition, remained  behind  also.  His  intention  was  to 
attend  the  tournament  in  disguise ;  and  having  communi- 
cated his  project  to  Guenever,  he  mounted  his  horse, 
set  off  without  any  attendant,  and,  counterfeiting  the 
feebleness  of  age,  took  the  most  unfrequented  road  to 
Winchester,  and  passed  unnoticed  as  an  old  knight  who 
was  going  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  sports.  Even  Arthur 
and  Gawain,  who  happened  to  behold  him  from  the 
windows  of  a  castle  under  which  he  passed,  were  the 
dupes  of  his  disguise.  But  an  accident  betrayed  him. 
His  horse  happened  to  stumble,  and  the  hero,  forget- 
ting for  a  moment  his  assumed  character,  recovered  the 
animal  with  a  strength  and  agility  so  peculiar  to  him- 
self, that  they  instantly  recognized  the  inimitable 
Launcelot.  They  suffered  him,  however,  to  proceed  on 
his  journey  without  interruption,  convinced  that  his  ex- 
traordinary feats  of  arms  must  discover  him  at  the  ap- 
proaching festival. 

Tn  the  evening  Launcelot  was  magnificently  enter- 
tained as  a  stranger  knight  at  the  neighboring  castle  of 
Shalott.  The  lord  of  this  castle  had  a  daughter  of  ex- 
quisite beauty,  and  two  sons  lately  received  into  th* 
order  of  knighthood,  one  of  whom  was  at  that  time  ill 
in  bed,  and  thereby  prevented  from  attending  the  tour- 


442       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

nament,  for  which  both  brothers  had  long  made  prep- 
aration. Launcelot  offered  to  attend  the  other,  if  hs 
were  permitted  to  borrow  the  armor  of  the  invalid,  and 
the  lord  of  Shalott,  without  knowing  the  name  of  his 
guest,  being  satisfied  from  his  appearance  that  his  son 
could  not  have  a  better  assistant  in  arms,  most  thank- 
fully accepted  the  offer.  In  the  meantime  the  young 
lady,  who  had  been  much  struck  by  the  first  appear- 
ance of  the  stranger  knight,  continued  to  survey  him 
with  increased  attention,  and,  before  the  conclusion  of 
supper,  became  so  deeply  enamoured  of  him,  that 
after  frequent  changes  of  color,  and  other  symptoms 
which  Sir  Launcelot  could  not  possibly  mistake,  she 
was  obliged  to  retire  to  her  chamber,  and  seek  relief 
in  tears.  Sir  Launcelot  hastened  to  convey  to  her,  by 
means  of  her  brother,  the  information  that  his  heart 
was  already  disposed  of,  but  that  it  would  be  his  pride 
and  pleasure  to  act  as  her  knight  at  the  approaching 
tournament.  The  lady,  obliged  to  be  satisfied  with  that 
courtesy,  presented  him  her  scarf  to  be  worn  at  the 
tournament. 

Launcelot  set  off  in  the  morning  with  the  young 
knight,  who,  on  their  approaching  Winchester,  carried 
him  to  the  castle  of  a  lady,  sister  to  the  lord  of  Shalott, 
by  whom  they  were  hospitably  entertained.  The  next 
day  they  put  on  their  armor,  which  was  perfectly  plain 
and  without  any  device,  as  was  usual  to  youths  during 
the  first  year  of  knighthood,  their  shields  being  only 
painted  red,  as  some  color  was  necessary  to  enable  them 
to  be  recognized  by  their  attendants.  Launcelot  wore 
on  his  crest  the  scarf  of  the  maid  of  Shalott,  and,  thus 
equipped,  proceeded  to  the  tournament,  where  the 
knights  were  divided  into  two  companies,  the  one  com- 
manded by  Sir  Galehaut,  the  other  by  King  Arthur. 
Having  surveyed  the  combat  for  a  short  time  from  with- 
out the  lists,  and  observed  that  Sir  Galehaut's  party 
began  to  give  way,  they  joined  the  press  and  attacked 
the  royal  knights,  the  young  man  choosing  such  adver- 
saries as  were  suited  to  his  strength,  while  his  com- 
panion selected  the  principal  champions  of  the  Round 
Table,  and  successively  overthrew  Gawain,  Bohort,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT  443 

Jonel.  The  astonishment  of  the  spectators  was  ex- 
reme,  for  it  was  thought  that  no  one  but  Launcelot 
•ould  possess  such  invincible  force ;  yet  the  favor  on 
lis  crest  seemed  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  his  being 
hus  disguised,  for  Launcelot  had  never  been  known  to 
vear  the  badge  of  any  but  his  sovereign  lady.  At  length 
Mr  Hector,  Launcelot's  brother,  engaged  him,  and,  after 
i  dreadful  combat,  wounded  him  dangerously  in  the 
lead,  but  was  himself  completely  stunned  by  a  blow 
m  the  helmet,  and  felled  to  the  ground;  after  which 
he  conqueror  rode  off  at  full  speed,  attended  by  his 
:ompanion. 

They  returned  to  the  castle  of  Shalott,  where  Launce- 
ot  was  attended  with  the  greatest  care  by  the  good  earl, 
)y  his  two  sons,  and,  above  all,  by  his  fair  daughter, 
vhose  medical  skill  probably  much  hastened  the  period 
)f  his  recovery.  His  health  was  almost  completely  re- 
>tored,  when  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Lionel, 
tfho,  after  the  return  of  the  court  to  Camelot,  had 
undertaken  the  quest  of  their  relation,  discovered  him 
talking  on  the  walls  of  the  castle.  Their  meeting  was 
/ery  joyful;  they  passed  three  days  in  the  castle  amidst 
:onstant  festivities,  and  bantered  each  other  on  the 
ivents  of  the  tournament.  La;  i.celot,  though  he  began 
)y  vowing  vengeance  against  tue  author  of  his  wound, 
/et  ended  by  declaring  that  he  felt  rewarded  for  the 
3ain  by  the  pride  he  took  in  witnessing  his  brother's  ex- 
iraordinary  prowess.  lie  then  dismissed  them  with  a 
nessage  to  the  queen,  promising  to  follow  immediately, 
:t  being  necessary  that  he  should  first  take  a  formal  leave 
3f  his  kind  hosts,  as  well  as  of  the  fair  maid  of  Shalott. 

The  young  lady,  after  vainly  attempting  to  detain  him 
Dy  her  tears  and  solicitations,  saw  him  depart  without 
caving  her  any  ground  for  hope. 

It  was  early  summer  when  the  tournament  took 
place;  but  some  months  had  passed  since  Launcelot's 
departure,  and  winter  was  now  near  at  hand.  The 
wealth  and  strength  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  gradu- 
ally sunk,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not  live  apart 
from  the  object  of  her  affections.  She  left  the  castle, 
and  descending  to  the  river's  brink  placed  herself  in  a 


444       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

boat,  which  she  loosed  from  its  moorings,  and  suffered 
to  bear  her  down  the  current  toward  Camelot. 

One  morning,  as  Arthur  and  Sir  Lionel  looked  from 
the  window  of  the  tower,  the  walls  of  which  were 
washed  by  a  river,  they  descried  a  boat  richly  orna- 
mented, and  covered  with  an  awning  of  cloth  of  gold, 
which  appeared  to  be  floating  down  the  stream  with- 
out any  human  guidance.  It  struck  the  shore  while 
they  watched  it,  and  they  hastened  down  to  examine  it. 
Beneath  the  awning  they  discovered  the  dead  body  of 
a  beautiful  woman,  in  whose  features  Sir  Lionel  easily 
recognized  the  lovely  maid  of  Shalott.  Pursuing  their 
search,  they  discovered  a  purse  richly  embroidered  with 
gold  and  jewels,  and  within  the  purse  a  letter,  which 
Arthur  opened,  and  found  addressed  to  himself  and  all 
the  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  stating  that  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake,  the  most  accomplished  of  knights  and  most 
beautiful  of  men,  but  at  the  same  time  the  most  cruel 
and  inflexible,  had  by  his  rigor  produced  the  death  of 
the  wretched  maiden,  whose  love  was  no  less  invincible 
than  his  cruelty.  The  king  immediately  gave  orders  for 
the  interment  of  the  lady  with  all  the  honors  suited  to 
her  rank,  at  the  same  t'C"*b  explaining  to  the  knights  the 
history  of  her  affectie;*  for  Launcelot,  which  moved 
the  compassion  and  regret  of  all. 


Tennyson  has  chosen  the  story  of  the  "Lady  of 
Shalott"  for  the  subject  of  a  poem.  The  catastrophe  is 
told  thus : 

"Under  tower  and  balcony, 
By  garden-wall  and  gallery, 
A  gleaming  shape  she  floated  by, 
A  corse  between  the  houses  high, 

Silent  into  Camelot. 
Out  upon  the  wharfs  they  came, 
Knight  and  burgher,  lord  and  dame, 
And  round  the  prow  they  read  her  name, 
The  Lady  of  Shalott/ 

"Who  is  this?  and  what  is  here? 
And  in  the  lighted  palace  near 
Died  the  sound  of  royal  cheer ; 
And  they  crossed  themselves  for  fear, 


QUEEN  GUENEVER'S  PERIL  445 

All  the  knights  at  Camelot. 
But  Launcelot  mused  a  little  space; 
He  said,  'She  has  a  lovely  face; 
God  in  his  mercy  lend  her  grace, 
The  Lady  of  Shalott' " 


CHAPTER   XI 
QUEEN  GUENEVER'S  PERIL 

IT  happened  at  this  time  that  Queen  Guenever  was 
thrown  into  great  peril  of  her  life.  A  certain  squire 
who  was  in  her  immediate  service,  having  some  cause 
of  animosity  to  Sir  Gawain,  determined  to  destroy  him 
by  poison,  at  a  public  entertainment.  For  this  purpose 
he  concealed  the  poison  in  an  apple  of  fine  appearance, 
which  he  placed  on  the  top  of  several  others,  and  put 
the  dish  before  the  queen,  hoping  that,  as  Sir  Gawain 
was  the  knight  of  greatest  dignity,  she  would  present 
the  apple  to  him.  But  it  happened  that  a  Scottish  knight 
of  high  distinction,  who  arrived  on  that  day,  was  seated 
next  to  the  queen,  and  to  him  as  a  stranger  she  pre- 
sented the  apple,  which  he  had  no  sooner  eaten  than  he 
was  seized  with  dreadful  pain,  and  fell  senseless.  The 
whole  court  was,  of  course,  thrown  into  confusion ;  the 
knights  rose  from  table,  darting  looks  of  indignation  at 
the  wretched  queen,  whose  tears  and  protestations  were 
unable  to  remove  their  suspicions.  In  spite  of  all  that 
could  be  done  the  knight  died,  and  nothing  remained  but 
to  order  a  magnificent  funeral  and  monument  for  him, 
which  was  done. 

Some  time  after  Sir  Mador,  brother  of  the  murdered 
knight,  arrived  at  Arthur's  court  in  quest  of  him. 
While  hunting  in  the  forest  he  by  chance  came  to  the 
spot  where  the  monument  was  erected,  read  the  in- 
scription, and  returned  to  court  determined  on  imme- 
diate and  signal  vengeance.  He  rode  into  the  hall,  loudly 
accused  the  queen  of  treason,  and  insisted  on  her  being 
given  up  for  punishment,  unless  she  should  find  by  a 
certain  day  a  knight  hardy  enough  to  risk  his  life  in 


446       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

support  of  her  innocence.  Arthur,  powerful  as  he  was, 
did  not  dare  to  deny  the  appeal,  but  was  compelled  with 
a  heavy  heart  to  accept  it,  and  Mador  sternly  took  his 
departure,  leaving  the  royal  couple  plunged  in  terror  and 
anxiety. 

During  all  this  time  Launcelot  was  absent,  and  no  one 
knew  where  he  was.  He  fled  in  anger  from  his  fair 
mistress,  upon  being  reproached  by  her  with  his  pas- 
sion for  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  which  she  had  hastily 
inferred  from  his  wearing  her  scarf  at  the  tournament. 
He  took  up  his  abode  with  a  hermit  in  the  forest,  and 
resolved  to  think  no  more  of  the  cruel  beauty,  whose 
conduct  he  thought  must  flow  from  a  wish  to  get  rid 
of  him.  Yet  calm  reflection  had  somewhat  cooled  his 
indignation,  and  he  had  begun  to  wish,  though  hardly 
able  to  hope,  for  a  reconciliation  when  the  news  of  Sir 
Mador's  challenge  fortunately  reached  his  ears.  The 
intelligence  revived  his  spirits,  and  he  began  to  prepare 
with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  for  a  contest  which,  if 
successful,  would  insure  him  at  once  the  affection  of  his 
mistress  and  the  gratitude  of  his  sovereign. 

The  sad  fate  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  ere  this  com- 
pletely acquitted  Launcelot  in  the  queen's  mind  of  all 
suspicion  of  his  fidelity,  and  she  lamented  most  griev- 
ously her  foolish  quarrel  with  him,  which  now,  at  her 
time  of  need,  deprived  her  of  her  most  efficient  cham- 
pion. 

As  the  day  appointed  by  Sir  Mador  was  fast  ap- 
proaching, it  became  necessary  that  she  should  procure 
a  champion  for  her  defence ;  and  she  successively  ad- 
jured Sir  Hector,  Sir  Lionel,  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Ga- 
wain  to  undertake  the  battle.  She  fell  on  her  knees 
before  them,  called  heaven  to  witness  her  innocence  of 
the  crime  alleged  against  her,  but  was  sternly  answered 
by  all  that  they  could  not  fight  to  maintain  the  inno- 
cence of  one  whose  act,  and  the  fatal  consequence  of 
it,  they  had  seen  with  their  own  eyes.  She  retired, 
therefore,  dejected  and  disconsolate;  but  the  sight  of 
the  fatal  pile  on  which,  if  guilty,  she  was  doomed  to 
be  burned,  exciting  her  to  fresh  effort,  she  again  re- 
paired to  Sir  Bohort,  threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and  pite- 


QUEEN  GUENEVER'S  PERIL  447 

ously  calling  on  him  for  mercy,  fell  into  a  swoon.  The 
brave  knight  was  not  proof  against  this.  He  raised  her 
up,  and  hastily  promised  that  he  would  undertake  her 
cause,  if  no  other  or  better  champion  should  present 
himself.  He  then  summoned  his  friends,  and  told  them 
his  resolution;  and  as  a  mortal  combat  with  Sir  Mador 
was  a  most  fearful  enterprise,  they  agreed  to  accom- 
pany him  in  the  morning  to  the  hermitage  in  the  forest, 
where  he  proposed  to  receive  absolution  from  the  hermit, 
and  to  make  his  peace  with  Heaven  before  he  entered 
the  lists.  As  they  approached  the  hermitage,  they 
espied  a  knight  riding  in  the  forest,  whom  they  at  once 
recognized  as  Sir  Launcelot.  Overjoyed  at  the  meet- 
ing, they  quickly,  in  answer  to  his  questions,  confirmed 
the  news  of  the  queen's  imminent  danger,  and  received 
his  instructions  to  return  to  court,  to  comfort  her  as 
well  as  they  could,  but  to  say  nothing  of  his  intention  of 
undertaking  her  defence,  which  he  meant  to  do  in  the 
character  of  an  unknown  adventurer. 

On  their  return  to  the  castle  they  found  that  mass 
was  finished,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  speak  to  the  queen 
before  they  were  summoned  into  the  hall  to  dinner.  A 
general  gloom  was  spread  over  the  countenances  of  all 
the  guests.  Arthur  himself  was  unable  to  conceal  his 
dejection,  and  the  wretched  Guenever,  motionless  and 
bathed  in  tears,  sat  in  trembling  expectation  of  Sir  Ma- 
dor's  appearance.  Nor  was  it  long  ere  he  stalked  into 
the  hall,  and  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  rendered  more 
impressive  by  the  general  silence,  demanded  instant  jus- 
tice on  the  guilty  party.  Arthur  replied  with  dignity, 
that  little  of  the  day  was  yet  spent,  and  that  perhaps  a 
champion  might  yet  be  found  capable  of  satisfying  his 
thirst  for  battle.  Sir  Bohort  now  rose  from  table,  and 
shortly  returning  in  complete  armor,  resumed  his  place, 
after  receiving  the  embraces  and  thanks  of  the  king, 
who  now  began  to  resume  some  degree  of  confidence. 
Sir  Mador,  growing  impatient,  again  repeated  his  de- 
nunciations of  vengeance,  and  insisted  that  the  combat 
should  no  longer  be  postponed. 

In  the  height  of  the  debate  there  came  riding  into  the 
hall  a  knight  mounted  on  a  black  steed,  and  clad  in  black 


448      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

armor,  with  his  visor  down,  and  lance  in  hand.  "Sir," 
said  the  king,  "is  it  your  will  to  alight  and  partake  of 
our  cheer ?"  "Nay,  sir,"  he  replied;  "I  come  to  save 
a  lady's  life.  The  queen  hath  ill  bestowed  her  favors, 
and  honored  many  a  knight,  that  in  her  hour  of  need 
she  should  have  none  to  take  her  part.  Thou  that  darest 
accuse  her  of  treachery,  stand  forth,  for  to-day  shalt 
thou  need  all  thy  might." 

Sir  Mador,  though  surprised,  was  not  appalled  by  the 
stern  challenge  and  formidable  appearance  of  his  antag- 
onist, but  prepared  for  the  encounter.  At  the  first  shock 
both  were  unhorsed.  They  then  drew  their  swords,  and 
commenced  a  combat  which  lasted  from  noon  till  eve- 
ning, when  Sir  Mador,  whose  strength  began  to  fail,  was 
felled  to  the  ground  by  Launcelot,  and  compelled  to  sue 
for  mercy.  The  victor,  whose  arm  was  already  raised  to 
terminate  the  life  of  his  opponent,  instantly  dropped  his 
sword,  courteously  lifted  up  the  fainting  Sir  Mador, 
frankly  confessing  that  he  had  never  before  encountered 
so  formidable  an  enemy.  The  other,  with  similar  court- 
esy, solemnly  renounced  all  further  projects  of  ven- 
geance for  his  brother's  death ;  and  the  two  knights,  now 
become  fast  friends,  embraced  each  other  with  the  great- 
est cordiality.  In  the  meantime  Arthur,  having  recog- 
nized Sir  Launcelot,  whose  helmet  was  now  unlaced, 
rushed  down  into  the  lists,  followed  by  all  his  knights, 
to  welcome  and  thank  his  deliverer.  Guenever  swooned 
with  joy,  and  the  place  of  combat  suddenly  exhibited  a 
scene  of  the  most  tumultuous  delight. 

The  general  satisfaction  was  still  further  increased  by 
the  discovery  of  the  real  culprit.  Having  accidentally 
incurred  some  suspicion,  he  confessed  his  crime,  and  was 
publicly  punished  in  the  presence  of  Sir  Mador. 

The  court  now  returned  to  the  castle,  which,  with  the 
title  of  "La  Joyeuse  Garde"  bestowed  upon  it  in  memory 
of  the  happy  event,  was  conferred  on  Sir  Launcelot  by 
Arthur,  as  a  memorial  of  his  gratitude. 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  449 

CHAPTER  XII 

TRISTRAM   AND  ISOUDE 

MELIADUS  was  king  of  Leonois,  or  Lionesse,*  a 
country  famous  in  the  annals  of  romance,  which  ad- 
joined the  kingdom  of  Cornwall,  but  has  now  disap- 
peared from  the  map,  having  been,  it  is  said,  over- 
whelmed by  the  ocean.  Meliadus  was  married  to 
Isabella,  sister  of  Mark,  king  of  Cornwall.  A  fairy  fell 
in  love  with  him,  and  drew  him  away  by  enchantment 
while  he  was  engaged  in  hunting.  His  queen  set  out  in 
quest  of  him,  but  was  taken  ill  on  her  journey,  and  died, 
leaving  an  infant  son,  whom,  from  the  melancholy  cir- 
cumstances of  his  birth,  she  called  Tristram. 

Gouvernail,  the  queen's  squire,  who  had  accompanied 
her,  took  charge  of  the  child,  and  restored  him  to  his 
father,  who  had  at  length  burst  the  enchantments  of  the 
fairy,  and  returned  home. 

Meliadus  after  seven  years  married  again,  and  the 
new  queen,  being  jealous  of  the  influence  of  Tristram 
with  his  father,  laid  plots  for  his  life,  which  were  dis- 
covered by  Gouvernail,  who  in  consequence  fled  with 
the  boy  to  the  court  of  the  king  of  France,  where  Tris- 
tram was  kindly  received,  and  grew  up  improving  in 
every  gallant  and  knightly  accomplishment,  adding  to 
his  skill  in  arms  the  arts  of  music  and  of  chess.  In  par- 
ticular, he  devoted  himself  to  the  chase  and  to  all  wood- 
land sports,  so  that  he  became  distinguished  above  all 
other  chevaliers  of  the  court  for  his  knowledge  of  all 
that  relates  to  hunting.  No  wonder  that  Belinda,  the 
king's  daughter,  fell  in  love  with  him ;  but  as  he  did  not 
return  her  passion,  she,  in  a  sudden  impulse  of  anger, 
excited  her  father  against  him,  and  he  was  banished  the 
kingdom.  The  princess  soon  repented  of  her  act,  and  in 
despair  destroyed  herself,  haying  first  written  a  most 
tender  letter  to  Tristram,  sending  him  at  the  same  time 
a  beautiful  and  sagacious  dog,  of  which  she  was  very 
fond,  desiring  him  to  keep  it  as  a  memorial  of  her. 


450       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Meliadus  was  now  dead,  and  as  his  queen,  Tristram's 
stepmother,  held  the  throne,  Gouvernail  was  afraid  to 
carry  his  pupil  to  his  native  country,  and  took  him  to 
Cornwall,  to  his  uncle  Mark,  who  gave  him  a  kind  re- 
ception. 

King  Mark  resided  at  the  castle  of  Tintadel,  already 
mdhtioned  in  the  history  of  Uther  and  Igerne.  In  this 
court  Tristram  became  distinguished  in  all  the  exercises 
incumbent  on  a  knight;  nor  was  it  long  before  he  had 
an  opportunity  of  practically  employing  his  valor  and 
skill.  Moraunt,  a  celebrated  champion,  brother  to  the 
queen  of  Ireland,  arrived  at  the  court,  to  demand  tribute 
of  King  Mark.  The  knights  of  Cornwall  are  in  ill  re- 
pute in  romance  for  their  cowardice,  and  they  exhibited 
it  on  this  occasion.  King  Mark  could  find  no  champion 
who  dared  to  encounter  the  Irish  knight,  till  his  nephew 
Tristram,  who  had  not  yet  received  the  honors  of  knight- 
hood, craved  to  be  admitted  to  the  order,  offering  at  the 
same  time  to  fight  the  battle  of  Cornwall  against  the 
Irish  champion.  King  Mark  assented  with  reluctance; 
Tristram  received  the  accolade,  which  conferred  knight- 
hood upon  him,  and  the  place  and  time  were  assigned 
for  the  encounter. 

Without  attempting  to  give  the  details  of  this  famous 
combat,  the  first  and  one  of  the  most  glorious  of  Tris- 
tram's exploits,  we  shall  only  say  that  the  young  knight, 
though  severely  wounded,  cleft  the  head  of  Moraunt, 
leaving  a  portion  of  his  sword  in  the  wound.  Moraunt. 
half  dead  with  his  wound  and  the  disgrace  of  his  defeatr 
hastened  to  hide  himself  in  his  ship,  sailed  away  with 
all  speed  for  Ireland,  and  died  soon  after  arriving  in 
his  own  country. 

The  kingdom  of  Cornwall  was  thus  delivered  from 
its  tribute.  Tristram,  weakened  by  loss  of  blood,  fell 
senseless.  His  friends  flew  to  his  assistance.  They 
dressed  his  wounds,  which  in  general  healed  readily; 
but  the  lance  of  Moraunt  was  poisoned,  and  one 
wound  which  it  made  yielded  to  no  remedies,  but  grew 
worse  day  by  day.  The  surgeons  could  do  no  more. 
Tristram  asked  permission  of  his  uncle  to  depart,  and 
seek  for  aid  in  the  kingdom  of  Loegria  (England). 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  451 

With  his  consent  he  embarked,  and  after  tossing  for 
many  days  on  the  sea,  was  driven  by  the  winds  to  the 
coast  of  Ireland.  He  landed,  full  of  joy  and  gratitude 
that  he  had  escaped  the  peril  of  the  sea ;  took  his  rote,1 
and  began  to  play.  It  was  a  summer  evening,  and  the 
king  of  Ireland  and  his  daughter,  the  beautiful  Isoude, 
were  at  a  window  which  overlooked  the  sea.  The 
strange  harper  was  sent  for,  and  conveyed  to  the  pal- 
ace, where,  finding  that  he  was  in  Ireland,  whose  cham- 
pion he  had  lately  slain,  he  concealed  his  name,  and 
called  himself  Tramtris.  The  queen  undertook  his 
cure,  and  by  a  medicated  bath  gradually  restored  him 
to  health.  His  skill  in  music  and  in  games  occasioned 
his  being  frequently  called  to  court,  and  he  became  the 
instructor  of  the  princess  Isoude  in  minstrelsy  and 
poetry,  who  profited  so  well  under  his  care,  that  she  soon 
had  no  equal  in  the  kingdom,  except  her  instructor. 

At  this  time  a  tournament  was  held,  at  which  many 
knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  others,  were  present. 
On  the  first  day  a  Saracen  prince,  named  Palamedes, 
obtained  the  advantage  over  all.  They  brought  him  to 
the  court,  and  gave  him  a  feast,  at  which  Tristram,  just 
recovering  from  his  wound,  was  present.  The  fair 
Isoude  appeared  on  this  occasion  in  all  her  charms. 
Palamedes  could  not  behold  them  without  emotion,  and 
made  no  effort  to  conceal  his  love.  Tristram  perceived 
it,  and  the  pain  he  felt  from  jealousy  taught  him  how 
dear  the  fair  Isoude  had  already  become  to  him. 

Next  day  the  tournament  was  renewed.  Tristram, 
still  feeble  from  his  wound,  rose  during  the  night,  took 
his  arms,  and  concealed  them  in  a  forest  near  the  place 
of  the  contest,  and,  after  it  had  begun,  mingled  with 
the  combatants,  lie  overthrew  all  that  encountered  him, 
in  particular  Palamedes,  whom  he  brought  to  the  ground 
with  a  stroke  of  his  lance,  and  then  fought  him  hand 
to  hand,  bearing  off  the  prize  of  the  tourney.  But  his 
exertions  caused  his  wound  to  reopen ;  he  bled  fast, 
and  in  this  sad  state,  yet  in  triumph,  they  bore  him 
to  the  palace.  The  fair  Isoude  devoted  herself  to  his 
relief  with  an  interest  which  grew  more  vivid  day  by 

1  A  musical  in^trumont. 


452      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

day;  and  her  skilful  care  soon  restored  him  to  health. 

It  happened  one  day  that  a  damsel  of  the  court,  en- 
tering the  closet  where  Tristram's  arms  were  deposited, 
perceived  that  a  part  of  the  sword  had  been  broken  off. 
It  occurred  to  her  that  the  missing  portion  was  like 
that  which  was  left  in  the  skull  of  Moraunt,  the  Irish 
champion.  She  imparted  her  thought  to  the  queen,  who 
compared  the  fragment  taken  from  her  brother's  wound 
with  the  sword  of  Tristram,  and  was  satisfied  that  it 
was  part  of  the  same,  and  that  the  weapon  of  Tristram 
was  that  which  reft  her  brother's  life.  She  laid  her 
griefs  and  resentment  before  the  king,  who  satisfied  him- 
self with  his  own  eyes  of  the  truth  of  her  suspicions. 
Tristram  was  cited  before  the  whole  court,  and  re- 
proached with  having  dared  to  present  himself  before 
them  after  having  slain  their  kinsman.  He  acknowl- 
edged that  he  had  fought  with  Moraunt  to  settle  the 
claim  for  tribute,  and  said  that  it  was  by  force  of  winds 
and  waves  alone  that  he  was  thrown  on  their  coast.  The 
queen  demanded  vengeance  for  the  death  of  her  brother ; 
the  fair  Isoude  trembled  and  grew  pale,  but  a  mur- 
mur rose  from  all  the  assembly  that  the  life  of  one  so 
handsome  and  so  brave  should  not  be  taken  for  such  a 
cause,  and  generosity  finally  triumphed  over  resentment 
in  the  mind  of  the  king.  Tristram  was  dismissed  in 
safety,  but  commanded  to  leave  the  kingdom  without 
delay,  and  never  to  return  thither  under  pain  of  death. 
Tristram  went  back,  with  restored  health,  to  Cornwall. 

King  Mark  made  his  nephew  give  him  a  minute  re- 
cital of  his  adventures.  Tristram  told  him  all  minutely; 
but  when  he  came  to  speak  of  the  fair  Isoude  he  de- 
scribed her  charms  with  a  warmth  and  energy  such  as 
none  but  a  lover  could  display.  King  Mark  was  fas- 
cinated with  the  description,  and,  choosing  a  favorable 
time,  demanded  a  boon1  of  his  nephew,  who  readily 

1 "  Good  faith  was  the  \ery  corner-stone  of  chivalry.  Whenever  a 
knight's  word  was  pledged  (it  mattered  not  how  rashly)  it  was  to  be  re- 
deemed at  any  price.  Hence  the  sacred  obligation  of  the  boon  granted  by  a 
knight  to  his  suppliant.  Instances  without  number  occur  in  romance,  in 
which  a  knight,  by  rashly  granting  an  indefinite  boon,  was  obliged  to  do  or 
suffer  something  extremely  to  his  prejudice.  But  it  is  not  in  romance 
alone  that  we  find  such  singular  instances  of  adherence  to  an  indefinite 
promise.  The  history  of  the  times  presents  authentic  transactions  equally 
embarrassing  and  absurd." — SCOTT,  note  to  Sir  Tristram. 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  453 

granted  it.  The  king  made  him  swear  upon  the  holy 
reliques  that  he  would  fulfil  his  commands.  Then  Mark 
directed  him  to  go  to  Ireland,  and  obtain  for  him  the 
fair  Isoude  to  be  queen  of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  believed  it  was  certain  death  for  him  to  re- 
turn to  Ireland;  and  how  could  he  act  as  ambassador 
for  his  uncle  in  such  a  cause?  Yet,  bound  by  his  oath, 
he  hesitated  not  for  an  instant.  He  only  took  the  pre- 
caution to  change  his  armor.  He  embarked  for  Ireland ; 
but  a  tempest  drove  him  to  the  coast  of  England,  near 
Camelot,  where  King  Arthur  was  holding  his  court, 
attended  by  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  many 
others,  the  most  illustrious  in  the  world. 

Tristram  kept  himself  unknown.  He  took  part  in 
many  justs;  he  fought  many  combats,  in  which  he  cov- 
ered himself  with  glory.  One  day  he  saw  among  those 
recently  arrived  the  king  of  Ireland,  father  of  the  fair 
Isoude.  This  prince,  accused  of  treason  against  his  liege 
sovereign,  Arthur,  came  to  Camelot  to  free  himself  from 
the  charge.  Blaanor,  one  of  the  most  redoubtable  war- 
riors of  the  Round  Table,  was  his  accuser,  and  Argius, 
the  king,  had  neither  youthful  vigor  nor  strength  to  en- 
counter him.  He  must  therefore  seek  a  champion  to 
sustain  his  innocence.  But  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  were  not  at  liberty  to  fight  against  one  another, 
unless  in  a  quarrel  of  their  own.  Argius  heard  of  the 
great  renown  of  the  unknown  knight;  he  also  was  wit- 
ness of  his  exploits.  He  sought  him,  and  conjured  him 
to  adopt  his  defence,  and  on  his  oath  declared  that  he 
was  innocent  of  the  crime  of  which  he  was  accused. 
Tristram  readily  consented,  and  made  himself  known  to 
the  king,  who  on  his  part  promised  to  reward  his  ex- 
ertions, if  successful,  with  whatever  gift  he  might  ask. 

Tristram  fought  with  Blaanor,  and  overthrew  him, 
and  held  his  life  in  his  power.  The  fallen  warrior 
called  on  him  to  use  his  right  of  conquest,  and  strike 
the  fatal  blow.  "God  forbid,"  said  Tristram,  "that  I 
should  take  the  life  of  so  brave  a  knight!"  He  raised 
him  up  and  restored  him  to  his  friends.  The  judges  of 
the  field  decided  that  the  king  of  Ireland  was  acquitted 
ot  the  charge  against  him,  and  they  led  Tristram  in 


454      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

triumph  to  his  tent.  King  Argius,  full  of  gratitude,  con- 
jured Tristram  to  accompany  him  to  his  kingdom.  They 
departed  together,  and  arrived  in  Ireland;  and  the  queen, 
forgetting  her  resentment  for  her  brother's  death,  ex  . 
hibited  to  the  preserver  of  her  husband's  life  nothing 
but  gratitude  and  good-will. 

How  happy  a  moment  for  Isoude,  who  knew  that  her 
father  had  promised  his  deliverer  whatever  boon  he 
might  ask !  But  the  unhappy  Tristram  gazed  on  her 
with  despair,  at  the  thought  of  the  cruel  oath  which 
bound  him.  His  magnanimous  soul  subdued  the  force 
of  his  love.  He  revealed  the  oath  which  he  had  taken, 
and  with  trembling  voice  demanded  the  fair  Isoude  for 
his  uncle. 

,  Argius  consented,  and  soon  all  was  prepared  for  the 
departure  of  Isoude.  Brengwain,  her  favorite  maid  of 
honor,  was  to  accompany  her.  On  the  day  of  departure 
the  queen  took  aside  this  devoted  attendant,  and  told 
her  that  she  had  observed  that  her  daughter  and  Tris 
tram  were  attached  to  one  another,  and  that  to  avert  the 
bad  effects  of  this  inclination  she  had  procured  from  a 
powerful  fairy  a  potent  philter  (love-draught),  which 
she  directed  Brengwain  to  administer  to  Isoude  and  to 
King  Mark  on  the  evening  of  their  marriage. 

Isoude  and  Tristram  embarked  together.  A  favorable 
wind  filled  the  sails,  and  promised  them  a  fortunate 
voyage.  The  lovers  gazed  upon  one  another,  and  could 
not  repress  their  sighs.  Love  seemed  to  light  up  all  his 
fires  on  their  lips,  as  in  their  hearts.  The  day  was  warm  ; 
they  suffered  from  thirst.  Isoude  first  complained. 
Tristram  descried  the  bottle  containing  the  love-draught, 
which  Brengwain  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  leave  in 
sight.  He  took  it,  gave  some  of  it  to  the  charming 
Isoude,  and  drank  the  remainder  himself.  The  dog 
Houdain  licked  the  cup.  The  ship  arrived  in  Cornwall, 
and  Isoude  was  married  to  King  Mark.  The  old  mon- 
arch was  delighted  with  his  bride,  and  his  gratitude  to 
Tristram  was  unbounded.  He  loaded  him  with  honors, 
and  made  him  chamberlain  of  his  palace,  thus  giving  him 
access  to  the  queen  at  all  times. 

In  the  midst  of  the   festivities  of  the  court  which 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  455 

followed  the  royal  marriage,  an  unknown  minstrel  one 
day  presented  himself,  bearing  a  harp  of  peculiar  con- 
struction. He  excited  the  curiosity  of  King  Mark  by 
refusing  to  play  upon  it  till  he  should  grant  him  a 
boon.  The  king  having  promised  to  grant  his  request, 
the  minstrel,  who  was  none  other  than  the  Saracen 
knight,  Sir  Palamedes,  the  lover  of  the  fair  Isoude, 
sung  to  the  harp  a  lay,  in  which  he  demanded  Isoude 
as  the  promised  gift.  King  Mark  could  not  by  the  laws 
of  knighthood  withhold  the  boon.  The  lady  was  mount- 
ed on  her  horse,  and  led  away  by  her  triumphant  lover. 
Tristram,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  absent  at  the  time, 
and  did  not  return  until  their  departure.  When  he 
heard  what  had  taken  place  he  seized  his  rote,  and 
hastened  to  the  shore,  where  Isoude  and  her  new  mas- 
ter had  already  embarked.  Tristram  played  upon  his 
rote,  and  the  sound  reached  the  ears  of  Isoude,  who 
became  so  deeply  affected,  that  Sir  Palamedes  was  in- 
duced to  return  with  her  to  land,  that  they  might  see 
the  unknown  musician.  Tristram  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, seized  the  lady's  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  plunged 
with  her  into  the  forest,  tauntingly  informing  his  rival 
that  "what  he  had  got  by  the  harp  he  had  lost  by  the 
rote."  Palamedes  pursued,  and  a  combat  was  about  to 
commence,  the  result  of  which  must  have  been  fatal  to 
one  or  other  of  these  gallant  knights ;  but  Isoude  stepped 
between  them,  and,  addressing  Palamedes,  said,  "You 
tell  me  that  you  love  me;  you  will  not  then  deny  me 
che  request  I  am  about  to  make?"  "Lady,"  he  re- 
plied, "I  will  perform  your  bidding."  "Leave,  then," 
said  she,  "this  contest,  and  repair  to  King  Arthur's 
court,  and  salute  Queen  Guenever  from  me;  tell  her 
that  there  are  in  the  world  but  two  ladies,  herself  and 
I,  and  two  lovers,  hers  and  mine ;  and  come  thou  not  in 
future  in  any  place  where  I  am."  Palamedes  burst  into 
tears.  "Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "I  will  obey  you ;  but  I  be- 
seech you  that  you  will  not  for  ever  steel  your  heart 
against  me."  "Palamedes,"  she  replied,  "may  I  never 
taste  of  joy  again  if  I  ever  quit  my  first  love."  Pala- 
medes then  went  his  way.  The  lovers  remained  a  week 
in  concealment,  after  which  Tristram  restored  Isoude  to 


456      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

her  husband,  advising  him  in   future  to  reward  min- 
strels in  some  other  way. 

The  king  showed  much  gratitude  to  Tristram,  but 
in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  cherished  bitter  jealousy  * 
of  him.  One  day  Tristram  arid  Isoude  were  alone  to- 
gether in  her  private  chamber.  A  base  and  cowardly 
knight  of  the  court,  named  Andret,  spied  them  through 
a  keyhole.  They  sat  at  a  table  of  chess,  but  were 
not  attending  to  the  game.  Andret  brought  the  king, 
having  first  raised  his  suspicions,  and  placed  him  so  as 
to  watch  their  motions.  The  king  saw  enough  to  con- 
firm his  suspicions,  and  he  burst  into  the  apartment  with 
his  sword  drawn,  and  had  nearly  slain  Tristram  be- 
fore he  was  put  on  his  guard.  But  Tristram  avoided 
the  blow,  drew  his  sword,  and  drove  before  him  the 
cowardly  monarch,  chasing  him  through  all  the  apart- 
ments of  the  palace,  giving  him  frequent  blows  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword,  while  he  cried  in  vain  to  his  knights 
to  save  him.  They  were  not  inclined,  or  did  not  dare, 
to  interpose  in  his  behalf. 


A  proof  of  the  great  popularity  of  the  tale  of  Sir 
Tristram  is  the  fact  that  the  Italian  poets,  Boiardo  and 
Ariosto,  have  founded  upon  it  the  idea  of  the  two  en- 
chanted fountains,  which  produced  the  opposite  effects 
of  love  and  hatred.  Boiardo  thus  describes  the  foun- 
tain of  hatred : 

"Fair  was  that  fountain,  sculptured  all  of  gold, 
With  alabaster  sculptured,  rich  and  rare; 
And  in  its  basin  clear  thou  might'st  behold 
The  flowery  marge  reflected  fresh  and  fair. 
Sage  Merlin  framed  the  font, — so  legends  bear, — 
When  on  fair  Isoude  doated  Tristram  brave, 
That  the  good  errant  knight,  arriving  there, 
Might  quaff  oblivion  in  the  enchanted  wave, 
And  leave  his  luckless  love,  and  'scape  his  timeless  grave. 

'But  ne'er  the  warrior's  evil  fate  allowed 
His  steps  that  fountain's  charmed  verge  to  gain. 
Though  restless,  roving  on  adventure  proud, 
He  traversed  oft  the  land  and  oft  the  main." 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  457 

CHAPTER   XIII 
TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE   (Continued) 

AFTER  this  affair  Tristram  was  banished  from  the 
kingdom,  and  Isoude  shut  up  in  a  tower,  which  stood 
on  the  bank  of  a  river.  Tristram  could  not  resolve  to 
depart  without  some  further  communication  with  his  be- 
loved; so  he  concealed  himself  in  the  forest,  till  at  last 
he  contrived  to  attract  her  attention,  by  means  of  twigs 
which  he  curiously  peeled,  and  sent  down  the  stream 
under  her  window.  By  this  means  many  secret  in- 
terviews were  obtained.  Tristram  dwelt  in  the  forest, 
sustaining  himself  by  game,  which  the  dog  Houdain 
ran  down  for  him;  for  this  faithful  animal  was  un- 
equalled in  the  chase,  and  knew  so  well  his  master's 
wish  for  concealment,  that,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  game, 
he  never  barked.  At  length  Tristram  departed,  but  left 
Houdain  with  Isoude,  as  a  remembrancer  of  him. 

Sir  Tristram  wandered  through  various  countries, 
achieving  the  most  perilous  enterprises,  and  covering 
himself  with  glory,  yet  unhappy  at  the  separation  from 
his  beloved  Isoude.  At  length  King  Mark's  territory 
was  invaded  by  a  neighboring  chieftain,  and  he  was 
forced  to  summon  his  nephew  to  his  aid.  Tristram 
obeyed  the  call,  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  uncle's 
vassals,  and  drove  the  enemy  out  of  the  country.  Mark 
was  full  of  gratitude,  and  Tristram,  restored  to  favor 
and  to  the  society  of  his  beloved  Isoude,  seemed  at  the 
summit  of  happiness.  But  a  sad  reverse  was  at  hand. 

Tristram  had  brought  with  him  a  friend  named 
Pheredin,  son  of  the  king  of  Brittany.  This  young 
knight  saw  Queen  Isoude,  and  could  not  resist  her 
charms.  Knowing  the  love  of  his  friend  for  the  queen, 
and  that  that  love  was  returned,  Pheredin  concealed  his 
own,  until  his  health  failed,  and  he  feared  he  was  draw- 
ing near  his  end.  He  then  wrote  to  the  beautiful  queen 
that  he  was  dying  for  love  of  her. 

The  gentle  Isoude,  in  a  moment  of  pity  for  the  friend 


458       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

of  Tristram,  returned  him  an  answer  so  kind  and  com- 
passionate that  it  restored  him  to  life.  A  few  days 
afterwards  Tristram  found  this  letter.  The  most  ter- 
rible jealousy  took  possession  of  his  soul ;  he  would  have, 
slain  Pheredin,  who  with  difficulty  made  his  escape. 
Then  Tristram  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  to  the  forest, 
where  for  ten  days  he  took  no  rest  nor  food.  At  length 
he  was  found  by  a  damsel  lying  almost  dead  by  the 
brink  of  a  fountain.  She  recognized  him,  and  tried  in 
vain  to  rouse  his  attention.  At  last  recollecting  his  love 
for  music  she  went  and  got  her  harp,  and  played  there- 
on. Tristram  was  roused  from  his  reverie ;  tears  flowed ; 
he  breathed  more  freely;  he  took  the  harp  from  the 
maiden,  and  sung  this  lay,  with  a  voice  broken  with 
sobs : 

"Sweet  I  sang  in  former  days, 
Kind  love  perfected  my  lays : 
Now  my  art  alone  displays 
The  woe  that  on  my  being  preys. 

"Charming  love,  delicious  power, 
Worshipped   from  my  earliest  hour, 
Thou  who  life  on  all  dost  shower, 
Love!  my  life  thou  dost  devour. 

"In  death's  hour  I  beg  of  thee, 
Isoude,  dearest  enemy, 
Thou  who  erst  couldst  kinder  be, 
When  I'm  gone,  forget  not  me. 

"On  my  gravestone  passers-by 
Oft  will  read,  as  low  I  lie, 
'Never  wight  in  love  could  vie 
With  Tristram,  yet  she  let  him  die/" 

Tristram,  having  finished  his  lay,  wrote  it  off  and 
gave  it  to  the  damsel,  conjuring  her  to  present  it  to  the 
queen. 

Meanwhile  Queen  Isoude  was  inconsolable  at  the  ab- 
sence of  Tristram.  She  discovered  that  it  was  caused 
by  the  fatal  letter  which  she  had  written  to  Pheredin. 
Innocent,  but  in  despair  at  the  sad  effects  of  her  let- 
ter, she  wrote  another  to  Pheredin,  charging  him  never 
to  see  her  again.  The  unhappy  lover  obeyed  this  cruel 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  459 

decree.     He  plunged  into  the  forest,  and  died  of  grief 
and  love  in  a  hermit's  cell. 

Isoude  passed  her  days  in  lamenting  the  absence  and 
unknown  fate  of  Tristram.  One  day  her  jealous  hus- 
band, having  entered  her  chamber  unperceived,  over- 
heard her  singing  the  following  lay: 

"My  voice  to  piteous  wail  is  bent, 
My  harp  to  notes  of  languishment; 
Ah,  love !  delightsome  days  be  meant 
For  happier   wights,   with   hearts  content. 

"Ah,  Tristram !  far  away  from  me, 
Art  thou  from  restless  anguish  free? 
Ah !  couldst  thou  so  one  moment  be, 
From  her  who  so  much  loveth  thee?" 

The  king  hearing  these  words  burst  forth  in  a  rage; 
but  Isoude  was  too  wretched  to  fear  his  violence.  "You 
have  heard  me,"  she  said;  "I  confess  it  all.  I  love 
Tristram,  and  always  shall  love  him.  Without  doubt  he 
is  dead,  and  died  for  me.  I  no  longer  wish  to  live. 
The  blow  that  shall  finish  my  misery  will  be  most  wel- 
come." 

The  king  was  moved  at  the  distress  of  the  fair  Isoude, 
and  perhaps  the  idea  of  Tristram's  death  tended  to  allay 
his  wrath.  He  left  the  queen  in  charge  of  her  women, 
commanding  them  to  take  especial  care  lest  her  despair 
should  lead  her  to  do  harm  to  herself. 

Tristram  meanwhile,  distracted  as  he  was,  rendered 
a  most  important  service  to  the  shepherds  by  slaying  a 
gigantic  robber  named  Taullas,  who  was  in  the  habit 
of  plundering  their  flocks  and  rifling  their  cottages. 
The  shepherds,  in  their  gratitude  to  Tristram,  bore  him 
in  triumph  to  King  Mark  to  have  him  bestow  on  him  a 
suitable  reward.  No  wonder  Mark  failed  to  recognize 
in  the  half-clad,  wild  man,  before  him  his  nephew 
Tristram ;  but  grateful  for  the  service  the  unknown  had 
rendered  he  ordered  him  to  be  well  taken  care  of,  and 
gave  him  in  charge  to  the  queen  and  her  women.  Under 
such  care  Tristram  rapidly  recovered  his  serenity  and  his 
health,  so  that  the  romancer  tells  us  he  became  hand- 
somer than  ever.  King  Mark's  jealousy  revived  with 


460       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Tristram's  health  and  good  looks,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
debt  of  gratitude  so  lately  increased,  he  again  banished 
him  from  the  court. 

Sir  Tristram  left  Cornwall,  and  proceeded  into  the 
land  of  Loegria  (England)  in  quest  of  adventures.  One 
day  he  entered  a  wide  forest.  The  sound  of  a  little  bell 
showed  him  that  some  inhabitant  was  near.  He  fol- 
lowed the  sound,  and  found  a  hermit,  who  informed 
him  that  he  was  in  the  forest  of  Arnantes,  belonging  to 
the  fairy  Viviane,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  who,  smitten 
with  love  for  King  Arthur,  had  found  means  to  entice 
him  to  this  forest,  where  by  enchantments  she  held  him 
a  prisoner,  having  deprived  him  of  all  memory  of  who 
and  what  he  was.  The  hermit  informed  him  that  all  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table  were  out  in  search  of  the 
king,  and  that  he  (Tristram)  was  now  in  the  scene  of 
the  most  grand  and  important  adventures. 

This  was  enough  to  animate  Tristram  in  the  search. 
He  had  not  wandered  far  before  he  encountered  a  knight 
of  Arthur's  court,  who  proved  to  be  Sir  Kay  the 
Seneschal,  who  demanded  of  him  whence  he  came.  Tris- 
tram answering,  "From  Cornwall,"  Sir  Kay  did  not  let 
slip  the  opportunity  of  a  joke  at  the  expense  of  the 
Cornish  knight.  Tristram  chose  to  leave  him  in  his 
error,  and  even  confirmed  him  in  it;  for  meeting  some 
other  knights  Tristram  declined  to  just  with  them. 
They  spent  the  night  together  at  an  abbey,  where  Tris- 
tram submitted  patiently  to  all  their  jokes.  The  Sene- 
schal gave  the  word  to  his  companions  that  they  should 
set  out  early  next  day,  and  intercept  the  Cornish  knight 
on  his  way,  and  enjoy  the  amusement  of  seeing  his 
fright  when  they  should  insist  on  running  a  tilt  with 
him.  Tristram  next  morning  found  himself  alone;  he 
put  on  his  armor,  and  set  out  to  continue  his  quest. 
He  soon  saw  before  him  the  Seneschal  and  the  three 
knights,  who  barred  the  way,  and  insisted  on  a  just. 
Tristram  excused  himself  a  long  time;  at  last  he  re- 
luctantly took  his  stand.  He  encountered  them,  one 
after  the  other,  and  overthrew  them  all  four,  man  and 
horse,  and  then  rode  off,  bidding  them  not  to  forget 
their  friend,  the  knight  of  Cornwall. 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  461 

Tristram  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  met  a  damsel, 
who  cried  out,  "Ah,  my  lord!  hasten  forward,  and  pre- 
vent a  horrid  treason !"  Tristram  flew  to  her  assistance, 
and  soon  reached  a  spot  where  he  beheld  a  knight,  whom 
three  others  had  borne  to  the  ground,  and  were  un- 
lacing his  helmet  in  order  to  cut  off  his  head. 

Tristram  flew  to  the  rescue,  and  slew  with  one  stroke 
of  his  lance  one  of  the  assailants.  The  knight,  recov- 
ering his  feet,  sacrificed  another  to  his  vengeance,  and 
the  third  made  his  escape.  The  rescued  knight  then 
raised  the  visor  of  his  helmet,  and  a  long  white  beard 
fell  down  upon  his  breast.  The  majesty  and  vener- 
able air  of  this  knight  made  Tristram  suspect  that  it 
was  none  other  than  Arthur  himself,  and  the  prince 
confirmed  his  conjecture.  Tristram  would  have  knelt 
before  him,  but  Arthur  received  him  in  his  arms,  and 
inquired  his  name  and  country;  but  Tristram  declined 
to  disclose  them,  on  the  plea  that  he  was  now  on  a  quest 
requiring  secrecy.  At  this  moment  the  damsel  who  had 
brought  Tristram  to  the  rescue  darted  forward,  and, 
seizing  the  king's  hand,  drew  from  his  finger  a  ring, 
the  gift  of  the  fairy,  and  by  that  act  dissolved  the  en- 
chantment. Arthur,  having  recovered  his  reason  and  his 
memory,  offered  to  Tristram  to  attach  him  to  his  court, 
and  to  confer  honors  and  dignities  upon  him;  but  Tris- 
tram declined  all,  and  only  consented  to  accompany  him 
till  he  should  see  him  safe  in  the  hands  of  his  knights. 
Soon  after,  Hector  de  Marys  rode  up,  and  saluted  the 
king,  who  on  his  part  introduced  him  to  Tristram  as 
one  of  the  bravest  of  his  knights.  Tristram  took  leave 
of  the  king  and  his  faithful  follower,  and  continued  his 
quest. 

We  cannot  follow  Tristram  through  all  the  adven- 
tures which  filled  this  epoch  of  his  history.  Suffice  it 
to  say,  he  fulfilled  on  all  occasions  the  duty  of  a  true 
knight,  rescuing  the  oppressed,  redressing  wrongs,  abol- 
ishing evil  customs,  and  suppressing  injustice,  thus  by 
constant  action  endeavoring  to  lighten  the  pains  of  ab- 
sence from  her  he  loved.  In  the  meantime  Isoude,  sep- 
arated from  her  dear  Tristram,  passed  her  days  in 
languor  and  regret.  At  length  she  could  no  longer  re- 


462      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

sist  the  desire  to  hear  some  news  of  her  lover.  She 
wrote  a  letter,  and  sent  it  by  one  of  her  damsels,  niece 
of  her  faithful  Brengwain.  One  day  Tristram,  weary 
with  his  exertions,  had  dismounted  and  laid  himself 
down  by  the  side  of  a  fountain  and  fallen  asleep.  The 
damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  arrived  at  the  same  fountain, 
and  recognized  Passebreul,  the  horse  of  Tristram,  and 
presently  perceived  his  master  asleep.  He  was  thin 
and  pale,  showing  evident  marks  of  the  pain  he  suf- 
fered in  separation  from  his  beloved.  She  awakened 
him,  and  gave  him  the  letter  which  she  bore,  and  Tris- 
tram enjoyed  the  pleasure,  so  sweet  to  a  lover,  of 
hearing  from  and  talking  about  the  object  of  his  affec- 
tions. He  prayed  the  damsel  to  postpone  her  return  till 
after  the  magnificent  tournament  which  Arthur  had  pro- 
claimed should  have  taken  place,  and  conducted  her  to 
the  castle  of  Persides,  a  brave  and  loyal  knight,  who  re- 
ceived her  with  great  consideration. 

Tristram  conducted  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  to 
the  tournament,  and  had  her  placed  in  the  balcony 
among  the  ladies  of  the  queen. 

"He  glanced  and  saw  the  stately  galleries, 
Dame,  damsel,  each  through  worship  of  their  Queen 
White-robed  in  honor  of  the  stainless  child, 
And  some  with  scatter' d  jewels,  like  a  bank 
Of  maiden  snow  mingled  with  sparks  of  fire. 
He  looked  but  once,  and  veiled  his  eyes  again." 

— The  Last  Tournament. 

He  then  joined  the  tourney.  Nothing  could  exceed  his 
strength  and  valor.  Launcelot  admired  him,  and  by  a 
secret  presentiment  declined  to  dispute  the  honor  of  the 
day  with  a  knight  so  gallant  and  so  skilful.  Arthur  de- 
scended from  the  balcony  to  greet  the  conqueror;  but 
the  modest  and  devoted  Tristram,  content  with  having 
borne  off  the  prize  in  the  sight  of  the  messenger  of 
Isoude,  made  his  escape  with  her,  and  disappeared. 

The  next  day  the  tourney  recommenced.  Tristram 
assumed  different  armor,  that  he  might  not  be  known; 
but  he  was  soon  detected  by  the  terrible  blows  that 
he  gave.  Arthur  and  Guenever  had  no  doubt  that  it 
was  the  same  knight  who  had  borne  off  the  prize  of 


TRISTRAM  AND  ISOUDE  463 

the  day  before.  Arthur's  gallant  spirit  was  roused. 
After  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  Sir  Gawain  he  was 
accounted  the  best  knight  of  the  Round  Table.  He 
went  privately  and  armed  himself,  and  came  into  the 
tourney  in  undistinguished  armor.  He  ran  a  just  with 
Tristram,  whom  he  shook  in  his  seat ;  but  Tristram,  who 
did  not  know  him,  threw  him  out  of  the  saddle.  Arthur 
recovered  himself,  and  content  with  having  made  proof 
of  the  stranger  knight  bade  Launcelot  finish  the  adven- 
ture, and  vindicate  the  honor  of  the  Round  Table.  Sir 
Launcelot,  at  the  bidding  of  the  monarch,  assailed  Tris- 
tram, whose  lance  was  already  broken  in  former  en- 
counters. But  the  law  of  this  sort  of  combat  was  that 
the  knight  after  having  broken  his  lance  must  fight  with 
his  sword,  and  must  not  refuse  to  meet  with  his  shield 
the  lance  of  his  antagonist.  Tristram  met  Launcelot' s 
charge  upon  his  shield,  which  that  terrible  lance  could 
not  fail  to  pierce.  It  inflicted  a  wound  upon  Tristram's 
side,  and,  breaking,  left  the  iron  in  the  wound.  But 
Tristram  also  with  his  sword  smote  so  vigorously  on 
Launcelot's  casque  that  he  cleft  it,  and  wounded  his 
head.  The  wound  was  not  deep,  but  the  blood  flowed 
into  his  eyes,  and  blinded  him  for  a  moment,  and  Tris- 
tram, who  thought  himself  mortally  wounded,  retired 
from  the  field.  Launcelot  declared  to  the  king  that 
he  had  never  received  such  a  blow  in  his  life  before. 

Tristram  hastened  to  Gouvernail,  his  squire,  who  drew 
forth  the  iron,  bound  up  the  wound,  and  gave  him  im- 
mediate ease.  Tristram  after  the  tournament  kept  re- 
tired in  his  tent,  but  Arthur,  with  the  consent  of  all  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table,  decreed  him  the  honors  of 
the  second  day.  But  it  was  no  longer  a  secret  that  the 
victor  of  the  two  days  was  the  same  individual,  and 
Gouvernail,  being  questioned,  confirmed  the  suspicions 
of  Launcelot  and  Arthur  that  it  was  no  other  than  Sir 
Tristram  of  Leonais,  the  nephew  of  the  king  of  Corn- 
wall. 

King  Arthur,  who  desired  to  reward  his  distinguished 
valor,  and  knew  that  his  Uncle  Mark  had  ungratefully 
banished  him,  would  have  eagerly  availed  himself  of 
the  opportunity  to  attach  Tristram  to  his  court, — all  the 


464      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

knights  of  the  Round  Table  declaring  with  acclamation 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  a  more  worthy  com- 
panion. But  Tristram  had  already  departed  in  search 
of  adventures,  and  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  returned 
to  her  mistress. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
SIR  TRISTRAM'S  BATTLE  WITH  SIR  LAUNCELOT 

SIR  TRISTRAM  rode  through  a  forest  and  saw  ten  men 
fighting,  and  one  man  did  battle  against  nine.  So  he 
rode  to  the  knights  and  cried  to  them,  bidding  them 
cease  their  battle,  for  they  did  themselves  great  shame, 
so  many  knights  to  fight  against  one.  Then  answered 
the  master  of  the  knights  (his  name  was  Sir  Breuse  sans 
Pitie,  who  was  at  that  time  the  most  villanous  knight 
living)  :  "Sir  knight,  what  have  ye  to  do  to  meddle  with 
us?  If  ye  be  wise  depart  on  your  way  as  you  came, 
for  this  knight  shall  not  escape  us."  "That  were  pity," 
said  Sir  Tristram,  "that  so  good  a  knight  should  be 
slain  so  cowardly;  therefore  I  warn  you  I  will  succor 
him  with  all  my  puissance." 

Then  Sir  Tristram  alighted  off  his  horse,  because  they 
were  on  foot,  that  they  should  not  slay  his  horse.  And 
he  smote  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left  so  vigorously 
that  well-nigh  at  every  stroke  he  struck  down  a  knight. 
At  last  they  fled,  with  Breuse  sans  Pitie,  into  the  tower, 
and  shut  Sir  Tristram  without  the  gate.  Then  Sir 
Tristram  returned  back  to  the  rescued  knight,  and  found 
him  sitting  under  a  tree,  sore  wounded.  "Fair  knight," 
said  he,  "how  is  it  with  you?"  "Sir  knight,"  said  Sir 
Palamedes,  for  he  it  was,  "I  thank  you  of  your  great 
goodness,  for  ye  have  rescued  me  from  death."  "What 
is  your  name?"  said  Sir  Tristram.  He  said,  "My  name 
is  Sir  Palamedes."  "Say  ye  so  ?"  said  Sir  Tristram ; 
"now  know  that  thou  art  the  man  in  the  world  that  I 
most  hate ;  therefore  make  thee  ready,  for  I  will  do  bat- 
tle with  thee."  "What  is  your  name?"  said  Sir  Pala- 
medes. "My  name  is  Sir  Tristram,  yottr  mortal  enemy." 


TRISTRAM'S  BATTLE  WITH  LAUNCELOT    465 

"It  may  be  so,"  said  Sir  Palamedes ;  "but  you  have  done 
overmuch  for  me  this  day,  that  I  should  fight  with  you. 
Moreover,  it  will  be  no  honor  for  you  to  have  to  do 
with  me,  for  you  are  fresh  and  I  am  wounded.  There- 
fore, if  you  will  needs  have  to  do  with  me,  assign 
me  a  day,  and  I  shall  meet  you  without  fail."  "You 
say  well/'  said  Sir  Tristram ;  "now  I  assign  you  to  meet 
me  in  the  meadow  by  the  river  of  Camelot,  where  Mer- 
lin set  the  monument."  So  they  were  agreed.  Then 
they  departed  and  took  their  ways  diverse.  Sir  Tristram 
passed  through  a  great  forest  into  a  plain,  till  he  came 
to  a  priory,  and  there  he  reposed  him  with  a  good  man 
six  days. 

Then  departed  Sir  Tristram,  and  rode  straight  into 
Camelot  to  the  monument  of  Merlin,  and  there  he 
looked  about  him  for  Sir  Palamedes.  And  he  perceived 
a  seemly  knight,  who  came  riding  against  him  all  in 
white,  with  a  covered  shield.  When  he  came  nigh  Sir 
Tristram  said  aloud,  "Welcome,  sir  knight,  and  well 
and  truly  have  you  kept  your  promise."  Then  they 
made  ready  their  shields  and  spears,  and  came  together 
with  all  the  might  of  their  horses,  so  fiercely,  that  both 
the  horses  and  the  knights  fell  to  the  earth.  And  as 
soon  as  they  might  they  quitted  their  horses,  and  struck 
together  with  bright  swords  as  men  of  might,  and  each 
wounded  the  other  wonderfully  sore,  so  that  the  blood 
ran  out  upon  the  grass.  Thus  they  fought  for  the  space 
of  four  hours  and  never  one  would  speak  to  the  other 
one  word.  Then  at  last  spake  the  white  knight,  and 
said,  "Sir,  thou  fightest  wonderful  well,  as  ever  I  saw 
knight;  therefore,  if  it  please  you,  tell  me  your  name." 
"Why  dost  thou  ask  my  name  ?"  said  Sir  Tristram ;  "art 
thou  not  Sir  Palamedes?"  "No,  fair  knight,"  said  he, 
"I  am  Sir  Launcclot  of  the  Lake."  "Alas!"  said  Sir 
Tristram,  "what  have  I  done?  for  you  are  the  man  of 
the  world  that  I  love  best."  "Fair  knight,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "tell  me  your  name."  "Truly,"  said  he,  "my 
name  is  Sir  Tristram  de  Lionesse."  "Alas!  alas!"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "what  adventure  has  befallen  me!"  And 
therewith  Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down  and  yielded  him 
up  his  sword;  and  Sir  Tristram  kneeled  down  and 


466       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

yielded  him  up  his  sword;  and  so  either  gave  other  the 
degree.  And  then  they  both  went  to  the  stone,  and  sat 
them  down  upon  it  and  took  off  their  helms  and  each 
kissed  the  other  a  hundred  times.  And  then  anon  they 
rode  toward  Camelot,  and  on  the  way  they  met  with 
Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Gaheris,  that  had  made  promise  to 
Arthur  never  to  come  again  to  the  court  till  they  had 
brought  Sir  Tristram  with  them. 

"Return  again,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "for  your  quest 
is  done;  for  I  have  met  with  Sir  Tristram.  Lo,  here 
he  is  in  his  own  peoson."  Then  was  Sir  Gawain  glad, 
and  said  to  Sir  Tristram,  "Ye  are  welcome."  With  this 
came  King  Arthur,  and  when  he  wist  there  was  Sir 
Tristram,  he  ran  unto  him,  and  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  said,  "Sir  Tristram,  ye  are  as  welcome  as  any  knight 
that  ever  came  to  this  court."  Then  Sir  Tristram  told 
the  king  how  he  came  thither  for  to  have  had  to  do 
with  Sir  Palamedes,  and  how  he  had  rescued  him  from 
Sir  Breuse  sans  Pitie  and  the  nine  knights.  Then  King 
Arthur  took  Sir  Tristram  by  the  hand,  and  went  to 
the  Table  Round,  and  Queen  Guenever  came,  and  many 
ladies  with  her,  and  all  the  ladies  said  with  one  voice, 
"Welcome,  Sir  Tristram."  "Welcome,"  said  the  knights. 
"Welcome,"  said  Arthur,  "for  one  of  the  best  of  knights, 
and  the  gentlest  of  the  world,  and  the  man  of  most 
worship;  for  of  all  manner  of  hunting  thou  bearest  the 
prize,  and  of  all  measures  of  blowing  thou  art  the  be- 
ginning, and  of  all  the  terms  of  hunting  and  hawking 
ye  are  the  inventor,  and  of  all  instruments  of  music  ye 
are  the  best  skilled;  therefore,  gentle  knight,"  said 
Arthur,  "ye  are  welcome  to  this  court."  And  then  King 
Arthur  made  Sir  Tristram  knight  of  the  Table  Round 
with  great  nobley  and  feasting  as  can  be  thought. 

SIR  TRISTRAM  AS  A  SPORTSMAN 

Tristram  is  often  alluded  to  by  the  Romancers  as 
the  great  authority  and  model  in  all  matters  relating  to 
the  chase.  In  the  "Faery  Queene,"  Tristram,  in  answer 
to  the  inquiries  of  Sir  Calidore,  informs  him  of  his  name 
and  parentage,  and  concludes: 


THE  ROUND  TABLE  467 

"All  which  my  days  I  have  not  lewdly  spent, 
Nor  spilt  the  blossom  of  my  tender  years 
In  idlesse;  but,  as  was  convenient, 
Have  trained  been  with  many  noble  feres 
In  gentle  thewes,  and  such  like  seemly  leers ; l 
'Mongst  which  my  most  delight  hath  always  been 
To  hunt  the  salvage  chace,  amongst  my  peers, 
Of  all  that  rangeth  in  the  forest  green, 
Of  which  none  is  to  me  unknown  that  yet  was  seen. 

"Ne  is  there  hawk  which  mantleth  on  her  perch, 
Whether  high  towering  or  accosting  low, 
But  I  the  measure  of  her  flight  do  search, 
And  all  her  prey,  and  all  her  diet  know. 
Such  be  our  joys,  which  in  these  forests  grow." 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE  ROUND  TABLE 

THE  famous  enchanter,  Merlin,  had  exerted  all  his 
skill  in  fabricating  the  Round  Table.  Of  the  seats  which 
surrounded  it  he  had  constructed  thirteen,  in  memory 
of  the  thirteen  Apostles.  Twelve  of  these  seats  only 
could  be  occupied,  and  they  only  by  knights  of  the  high- 
est fame;  the  thirteenth  represented  the  seat  of  the 
traitor  Judas.  It  remained  always  empty.  It  was  called 
the  perilous  seat,  ever  since  a  rash  and  naughty  Saracen 
knight  had  dared  to  place  himself  in  it,  when  the  earth 
opened  and  swallowed  him  up. 

"In  our  great  hall  there  stood  a  vacant  chair, 
Fashion' d  by  Merlin  ere  he  past  away, 
And  carven  with  strange  figures;  and  in  and  out 
The  figures,  like  a  serpent,  ran  a  scroll 
Of  letters  in  a  tongue  no  man  could  read. 
And  Merlin  call'd  it  'The  Siege  perilous/ 
Perilous  for  good  and  ill;  'for  there/  he  said, 
'No  man  could  sit  but  he  should  lose  himself.'" 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

A  magic  power  wrote  upon  each  seat  the  name  of  the 
knight  who  was  entitled  to  sit  in  it.  No  one  could 

1  Feres,  companions;  thewes ;  labors;  Jeers,  learning. 


468       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

succeed  to  a  vacant  seat  unless  he  surpassed  in  valor 
and  glorious  deeds  the  knight  who  had  occupied  it  be- 
fore him ;  without  this  qualification  he  would  be  violently 
repelled  by  a  hidden  force.  Thus  proof  was  made  of 
all  those  who  presented  themselves  to  replace  any  com- 
panions of  the  order  who  had  fallen. 

One  of  the  principal  seats,  that  of  Moraunt  of  Ire- 
land, had  been  vacant  ten  years,  and  his  name  still  re- 
mained over  it  ever  since  the  time  when  that  distin- 
guished champion  fell  beneath  the  sword  of  Sir  Tris- 
tram. Arthur  now  took  Tristram  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  to  that  seat.  Immediately  the  most  melodious 
sounds  were  heard,  and  exquisite  perfumes  filled  the 
place;  the  name  of  Moraunt  disappeared,  and  that  of 
Tristram  blazed  forth  in  light.  The  rare  modesty  of 
Tristram  had  now  to  be  subjected  to  a  severe  task;  for 
the  clerks  charged  with  the  duty  of  preserving  the  an- 
nals of  the  Round  Table  attended,  and  he  was  required 
by  the  law  of  his  order  to  declare  what  feats  of  arms 
,he  had  accomplished  to  entitle  him  to  take  that  seat. 
This  ceremony  being  ended,  Tristram  received  the  con- 
gratulations of  all  his  companions.  Sir  Launcelot  and 
Guenever  took  the  occasion  to  speak  to  him  of  the  fair 
Isoude,  and  to  express  their  wish  that  some  happy 
chance  might  bring  her  to  the  kingdom  of  Loegria. 

While  Tristram  was  thus  honored  and  caressed  at  the 
court  of  King  Arthur,  the  most  gloomy  and  malignant 
jealousy  harassed  the  soul  of  Mark.  He  could  not  look 
upon  Isoude  without  remembering  that  she  loved  Tris- 
tram, and  the  good  fortune  of  his  nephew  goaded  him 
to  thoughts  of  vengeance.  He  at  last  resolved  to  go 
disguised  into  the  kingdom  of  Loegria,  attack  Tristram 
by  stealth,  and  put  him  to  death.  He  took  with  him  two 
knights,  brought  up  in  his  court,  who  he  thought  were 
devoted  to  him ;  and,  not  willing  to  leave  Isoude  behind, 
named  two  of  her  maidens  to  attend  her,  together  with 
her  faithful  Brengwain,  and  made  them  accompany  him. 

Having  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camelot,  Mark 
imparted  his  plan  to  his  two  knights,  but  they  rejected 
it  with  horror ;  nay,  more,  they  declared  that  they  would 
no  longer  remain  in  his  service;  and  left  him,  giving 


THE  ROUND  TABLE  469 

him  reason  to  suppose  that  they  should  repair  to  the 
court  to  accuse  him  before  Arthur.  It  was  necessary  for 
Mark  to  meet  and  rebut  their  accusation;  so,  leav- 
ing Isoude  in  an  abbey,  he  pursued  his  way  alone  to 
Camelot. 

Mark  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  encountered  a  party 
of  knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and  would  have  avoided 
them,  for  he  knew  their  habit  of  challenging  to  a  just 
every  stranger  knight  whom  they  met.  But  it  was  too 
late.  They  had  seen  his  armor,  and  recognized  him  as 
a  Cornish  knight,  and  at  once  resolved  to  have  some 
sport  with  him.  It  happened  they  had  with  them  Dague- 
net,  King  Arthur's  fool,  who,  though  deformed  and  weak 
of  body,  was  not  wanting  in  courage.  The  knights  as 
Mark  approached  laid  their  plan  that  Daguenet  should 
personate  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  challenge  the 
Cornish  knight.  They  equipped  him  in  armor  belonging 
to  one  of  their  number  who  was  ill,  and  sent  him  for- 
ward to  the  cross-road  to  defy  the  strange  knight.  Mark, 
who  saw  that  his  antagonist  was  by  no  means  formidable 
in  appearance,  was  not  disinclined  to  the  combat;  but 
when  the  dwarf  rode  towards  him,  calling  out  that  he 
was  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  his  fears  prevailed,  he 
put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  rode  away  at  full  speed, 
pursued  by  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  party. 

Meanwhile  Isoude,  remaining  at  the  abbey  with  her 
faithful  Brengwain,  found  her  only  amusement  in  walk- 
ing occasionally  in  a  forest  adjoining  the  abbey.  There, 
on  the  brink  of  a  fountain  girdled  with  trees,  she  thought 
of  her  love,  and  sometimes  joined  her  voice  and  her  harp 
in  lays  reviving  the  memory  of  its  pains  or  pleasures. 
One  day  the  caitiff  knight,  Breuse  the  Pitiless,  heard 
her  voice,  concealed  himself,  and  drew  near.  She  sang: 

"Sweet  silence,  shadowy  bower,  and  verdant  lair, 

Ye  court  my  troubled  spirit  to  repose, 
Whilst  I,  such  dear  remembrance  rises  there, 
Awaken  every  echo  with  my  woes. 

"Within  these  woods,  by  nature's  hand  arrayed, 

A  fountain  springs,  and  feeds  a  thousand  flowers; 
Ah !  how  my  groans  do  all  its  murmurs  aid ! 

How  my  sad  eyes  do  swell  it  with  their  showers ! 


470       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"What  doth  my  knight  the  while?  to  him  is  given 

A  double  meed;  in  love  and  arms'  emprise, 
Him  the  Round  Table  elevates  to  heaven! 

Tristram !  ah  me !  he  hears  not  Isoude' s  cries." 

Breuse  the  Pitiless,  who  like  most  other  caitiffs  had 
felt  the  weight  of  Tristram's  arm,  and  hated  him  ac- 
cordingly, at  hearing  his  name  breathed  forth  by  the 
beautiful  songstress,  impelled  by  a  double  impulse, 
rushed  forth  from  his  concealment  and  laid  hands  on 
his  victim.  Isoude  fainted,  and  Brengwain  filled  the 
air  with  her  shrieks.  Breuse  carried  Isoude  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  horse;  but  the  animal  had  got 
away  from  his  bridle,  and  was  at  some  distance.  He 
was  obliged  to  lay  down  his  fair  burden,  and  go  in  pur- 
suit of  his  horse.  Just  then  a  knight  came  up,  drawn 
by  the  cries  of  Brengwain,  and  demanded  the  cause  of 
her  distress.  She  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to  her 
mistress  lying  insensible  on  the  ground. 

Breuse  had  by  this  time  returned,  and  the  cries  of 
Brengwain,  renewed  at  seeing  him,  sufficiently  showed 
the  stranger  the  cause  of  the  distress.  Tristram  spurred 
his  horse  towards  Breuse,  who,  not  unprepared,  ran  to 
the  encounter.  Breuse  was  unhorsed,  and  lay  motion- 
less, pretending  to  be  dead ;  but  when  the  stranger  knight 
left  him  to  attend  to  the  distressed  damsels,  he  mounted 
his  horse,  and  made  his  escape. 

The  knight  now  approached  Isoude,  gently  raised  her 
head,  drew  aside  the  golden  hair  which  covered  her 
countenance,  gazed  thereon  for  an  instant,  uttered  a  cry, 
and  fell  back  insensible.  Brengwain  came ;  her  cares 
soon  restored  her  mistress  to  life,  and  they  then  turned 
their  attention  to  the  fallen  warrior.  They  raised  his 
visor,  and  discovered  the  countenance  of  Sir  Tristram. 
Isoude  threw  herself  on  the  body  of  her  lover,  and 
bedewed  his  face  with  her  tears.  Their  warmth  revived 
the  knight,  and  Tristram  on  awaking  found  himself  in 
the  arms  of  his  dear  Isoude. 

It  was  the  law  of  the  Round  Table  that  each  knight 
after  his  admission  should  pass  the  next  ten  days  in 
quest  of  adventures,  during  which  time  his  companions 
aigbt  meet  him  in  disguised  armor  and  try  their  strength 


THE  ROUND  TABLE  471 

with  him.  Tristram  had  now  been  out  seven  days,  and 
in  that  time  had  encountered  many  of  the  best  knights 
of  the  Round  Table,  and  acquitted  himself  with  honor. 
During  the  remaining  three  days,  Isoude  remained  at  the 
abbey,  under  his  protection,  and  then  set  out  with  her 
maidens,  escorted  by  Sir  Tristram,  to  rejoin  King  Mark 
at  the  court  of  Camelot. 

This  happy  journey  was  one  of  the  brightest  epochs  in 
the  lives  of  Tristram  and  Isoude.  He  celebrated  it  by 
a  lay  upon  the  harp  in  a  peculiar  measure,  to  which  the 
French  give  the  name  of  Triolet. 

"With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah!  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead! 
How  blest  for  ever  thus  to  rove, 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love! 
As  she  wills,  I  live  and  move, 
And    cloudless    days   to    days    succeed: 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah!  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead! 

"Journeying  on   from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair? 
Yon  green  turf  invites  to  play ; 
Journeying  on  from  day  to  day, 
Ah !  let  us  to  that  shade  away, 
Were  it  but  to  slumber  there! 
Journeying  on  from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair?" 

They  arrived  at  Camelot,  where  Sir  Launcelot  received 
them  most  cordially.  Isoude  was  introduced  to  King 
Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever,  who  welcomed  her  as  a 
sister.  As  King  Mark  was  held  in  arrest  under  the  ac- 
cusation of  the  two  Cornish  knights,  Queen  Isoude  could 
not  rejoin  her  husband,  and  Sir  Launcelot  placed  his 
castle  of  La  Joyeuse  Garde  at  the  disposal  of  his  friends, 
who  there  took  up  their  abode. 

King  Mark,  who  found  himself  obliged  to  confess  the 
truth  of  the  charge  against  him,  or  to  clear  himself  by 
combat  with  his  accusers,  preferred  the  former,  and 
King  Arthur,  as  his  crime  had  not  been  perpetrated,  re- 
mitted the  penalty,  only  enjoining  upon  him,  under  pain 
of  his  signal  displeasure,  to  lay  aside  all  thoughts  of 


472      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

vengeance  against  his  nephew.  In  the  presence  of  the 
king  and  his  court  all  parties  were  formally  reconciled; 
Mark  and  his  queen  departed  for  their  home,  and  Tris- 
tram remained  at  Arthur's  court. 


f 


CHAPTER    XVI 

SIR    PALAMEDES 

WHILE  Sir  Tristram  and  the  fair  Isoude  abode  yet  at 
La  Joyeuse  Garde,  Sir  Tristram  rode  forth  one  day, 
without  armor,  having  no  weapon  but  his  spear  and  his 
sword.  And  as  he  rode  he  came  to  a  place  where  he  saw 
two  knights  in  battle,  and  one  of  them  had  gotten  the 
better  and  the  other  lay  overthrown.  The  knight  who 
had  the  better  was  Sir  Palamedes.  When  Sir  Palamedes 
knew  Sir  Tristram,  he  cried  out,  "Sir  Tristram,  now 
we  be  met,  and  ere  we  depart  we  will  redress  our  old 
wrongs."  "As  for  that/*  said  Sir  Tristram,  "there  never 

^et  was  Christian  man  that  might  make  his  boast  that 
ever  fled  from  him,  and  thou  that  art  a  Saracen  shalt 
never  say  that  of  me."  And  therewith  Sir  Tristram 
made  his  horse  to  run,  and  with  all  his  might  came 
straight  upon  Sir  Palamedes,  and  broke  his  spear  upon 
him.  Then  he  drew  his  sword  and  struck  at  Sir  Pala- 
medes six  great  strokes,  upon  his  helm.  Sir  Palamedes 
saw  that  Sir  Tristram  had  not  his  armor  on,  and  he 
marvelled  at  his  rashness  and  his  great  folly;  and  said 
to  himself,  "If  I  meet  and  slay  him,  I  am  shamed 
wheresoever  I  go."  Then  Sir  Tristram  cried  out  and 
said,  "Thou  coward  knight,  why  wilt  thou  not  do  battle 
with  me?  for  have  thou  no  doubt  I  shall  endure  all  thy 
malice."  "Ah,  Sir  Tristram  !"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "thou 
knowest  I  may  not  fight  with  thee  for  shame;  for  thou 
art  here  naked,  and  I  am  armed ;  now  I  require  that 
thou  answer  me  a  question  that  I  shall  ask  you."  "Tell 
me  what  it  is,"  said  Sir  Tristram.  "I  put  the  case/' 
said  Palamedes,  "that  you  were  well  armed,  and  I  naked 
us  ye  be;  what  would  you  do  to  me  now,  by  your  true 


SIR  PALAMEDES  473 

knighthood?"  "Ah!"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "now  I  under- 
stand thee  well,  Sir  Palamedes;  and,  as  God  bless  me, 
what  I  shall  say  shall  not  be  said  for  fear  that  I  have  of 
thee.  But  if  it  were  so,  thou  shouldest  depart  from  me, 
for  I  would  not  have  to  do  with  thee."  "No  more  will 
I  with  thee,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "and  therefore  ride 
forth  on  thy  way."  "As  for  that,  I  may  choose,"  said 
Sir  Tristram,  "either  to  ride  or  to  abide.  But,  Sir 
Palamedes,  I  marvel  at  one  thing, — that  thou  art  so 
good  a  knight,  yet  that  thou  wilt  not  be  christened." 
"As  for  that,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "I  may  not  yet  be 
christened,  for  a  vow  which  I  made  many  years  ago; 
yet  in  my  heart  I  believe  in  our  Saviour  and  his  mild 
mother,  Mary ;  but  I  have  yet  one  battle  to  do,  and  when 
that  is  done  I  will  be  christened,  with  a  good  will."  "By 
my  head,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "as  for  that  one  battle, 
thou  shalt  seek  it  no  longer;  for  yonder  is  a  knight, 
whom  you  have  smitten  down.  Now  help  me  to  be 
clothed  in  his  armor,  and  I  will  soon  fulfil  thy  vow." 
"As  ye  will,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "so  shall  it  be."  So 
they  rode  both  unto  that  knight  that  sat  on  a  bank;  and 
Sir  Tristram  saluted  him,  and  he  full  weary  saluted  him 
again.  "Sir,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "I  pray  you  to  lend 
me  your  whole  armor ;  for  I  am  unarmed,  and  I  must 
do  battle  with  this  knight."  "Sir,"  said  the  hurt  knight, 
"you  shall  have  it,  with  a  right  good  will."  Then  Sir 
Tristram  unarmed  Sir  Galleron,  for  that  was  the  name 
of  the  hurt  knight,  and  he  as  well  as  he  could  helped  to 
arm  Sir  Tristram.  Then  Sir  Tristram  mounted  upon 
his  own  horse,  and  in  his  hand  he  took  Sir  Galleron's 
spear.  Thereupon  Sir  Palamedes  was  ready,  and  so  they 
came  hurling  together,  and  each  smote  the  other  in  the 
midst  of  their  shields.  Sir  Palamedes*  spear  broke,  and 
Sir  Tristram  smote  down  the  horse.  Then  Sir  Pala- 
medes leapt  from  his  horse,  and  drew  out  his  sword. 
That  saw  Sir  Tristram,  and  therewith  he  alighted  and 
tied  his  horse  to  a  tree.  Then  they  came  together  as 
two  wild  beasts,  lashing  the  one  on  the  other,  and  so 
fought  more  than  two  hours;  and  often  Sir  Tristram 
smote  such  strokes  at  Sir  Palamedes  that  he  made  him 
to  kneel,  and  Sir  Palamedes  broke  away  Sir  Tristram's 


474       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

shield,  and  wounded  him.  Then  Sir  Tristram  was  wroth 
out  of  measure,  and  he  rushed  to  Sir  Palamedes  and 
wounded  him  passing  sore  through  the  shoulder,  and  by 
fortune  smote  Sir  Palamedes'  sword  out  of  his  hand. 
And  if  Sir  Palamedes  had  stooped  for  his  sword  Sir 
Tristram  had  slain  him.  Then  Sir  Palamedes  stood 
and  beheld  his  sword  with  a  full  sorrowful  heart. 
"Now,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "I  have  thee  at  a  vantage,  as 
thou  hadst  me  to-day ;  but  it  shall  never  be  said,  in  court, 
or  among  good  knights,  that  Sir  Tristram  did  slay  any 
knight  that  was  weaponless;  therefore  take  thou  thy 
sword,  and  let  us  fight  this  battle  to  the  end."  Then 
spoke  Sir  Palamedes  to  Sir  Tristram :  "I  have  no  wish 
to  fight  this  battle  any  more.  The  offence  that  I  have 
done  unto  you  is  not  so  great  but  that,  if  it  please  you, 
we  may  be  friends.  All  that  I  have  offended  is  for  the 
love  of  the  queen,  La  Belle  Isoude,  and  I  dare  maintain 
that  she  is  peerless  among  ladies;  and  for  that  offence 
ye  have  given  me  many  grievous  and  sad  strokes,  and 
some  I  have  given  you  again.  Wherefore  I  require  you, 
my  lord  Sir  Tristram,  forgive  me  all  that  I  have  offended 
you,  and  this  day  have  me  unto  the  next  church ;  and  first 
I  will  be  clean  confessed,  and  after  that  see  you  that 
I  be  truly  baptized,  and  then  we  will  ride  together  unto 
the  court  of  my  lord,  King  Arthur,  so  that  we  may  be 
there  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost."  "Now  take  your 
horse,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "and  as  you  have  said,  so  shal1 
it  be  done."  So  they  took  their  horses,  and  Sir  Galleror 
rode  with  them.  When  they  came  to  the  church  of  Car- 
lisle, the  bishop  commanded  to  fill  a  great  vessel  with 
water;  and  when  he  had  hallowed  it,  he  then  confessed 
Sir  Palamedes  clean,  and  christened  him,  and  Sir  Tris- 
tram and  Sir  Galleron  were  his  godfathers.  Then  soon 
after  they  departed,  and  rode  towards  Camelot,  where 
the  noble  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever  were  keep- 
ing a  court  royal.  And  the  king  and  all  the  court  were 
glad  that  Sir  Palamedes  was  christened.  Then  Sir  Tris- 
tram returned  again  to  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  and  Sir 
Palamedes  went  his  way. 

Not  long  after  these  events  Sir  Gawain  returned  from 
Brittany,   and   related   to   King  Arthur  the  adventure 


SIR  TRISTRAM  475 

which  befell  him  in  the  forest  of  Breciliande,  how  Mer- 
lin had  there  spoken  to  him,  and  enjoined  him  to  charge 
the  king  to  go  without  delay  upon  the  quest  of  the  Holy 
Greal.  While  King  Arthur  deliberated  Tristram  deter- 
mined to  enter  upon  the  quest,  and  the  more  readily,  as 
it  was  well  known  to  him  that  this  holy  adventure  would, 
if  achieved,  procure  him  the  pardon  of  all  his  sins.  He 
immediately  departed  for  the  kingdom  of  Brittany,  hop- 
ing there  to  obtain  from  Merlin  counsel  as  to  the  proper 
course  to  pursue  to  insure  success. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

SIR  TRISTRAM 

ON  arriving  in  Brittany  Tristram  found  King  Hoel 
engaged  in  a  war  with  a  rebellious  vassal,  and  hard 
pressed  by  his  enemy.  His  best  knights  had  fallen  in 
a  late  battle,  and  he  knew  not  where  to  turn  for  as- 
sistance. Tristram  volunteered  his  aid.  It  was  accepted ; 
and  the  army  of  Hoel,  led  by  Tristram,  and  inspired  by 
his  example,  gained  a  complete  victory.  The  king,  pene- 
trated by  the  most  lively  sentiments  of  gratitude,  and 
having  informed  himself  of  Tristram's  birth,  offered  him 
his  daughter  in  marriage.  The  princess  was  beautiful 
and  accomplished,  and  bore  the  same  name  with  the 
Queen  of  Cornwall ;  but  this  one  is  designated  by  the 
Romancers  as  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands,  to  distinguish 
her  from  Isoude  the  Fair. 

How  can  we  describe  the  conflict  that  agitated  the 
heart  of  Tristram?  He  adored  the  first  Isoude,  but  his 
love  for  her  was  hopeless,  and  not  unaccompanied  by 
remorse.  Moreover,  the  sacred  quest  on  which  he  had 
now  entered  demanded  of  him  perfect  purity  of  life.  It 
seemed  as  if  a  happy  destiny  had  provided  for  him  in 
the  charming  princess  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  the 
best  security  for  all  his  good  resolutions.  This  last 
reflection  determined  him.  They  were  married,  and 
uassed  some  months  in  tranquil  happiness  at  the  court  of 


476       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

King  Hoel.  The  pleasure  which  Tristram  felt  in  his 
wife's  society  increased  day  by  day.  An  inward  grace 
seemed  to  stir  within  him  from  the  moment  when  he 
took  the  oath  to  go  on  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Greal;  it 
seemed  even  to  triumph  over  the  power  of  the  magic 
love-potion. 

The  war,  which  had  been  quelled  for  a  time,  now 
burst  out  anew.  Tristram  as  usual  was  foremost  in 
every  danger.  The  enemy  was  worsted  in  successive 
conflicts,  and  at  last  shut  himself  up  in  his  principal 
city.  Tristram  led  on  the  attack  of  the  city.  As  he 
mounted  a  ladder  to  scale  the  walls  he  was  struck  on 
the  head  by  a  fragment  of  rock,  which  the  besieged 
threw  down  upon  him.  It  bore  him  to  the  ground,  where 
he  lay  insensible. 

As  soon  as  he  recovered  consciousness  he  demanded  to 
be  carried  to  his  wife.  The  princess,  skilled  in  the  art 
of  surgery,  would  not  suffer  any  one  but  herself  to  touch 
her  beloved  husband.  Her  fair  hands  bound  up  his 
wounds;  Tristram  kissed  them  with  gratitude,  which 
began  to  grow  into  love.  At  first  the  devoted  cares  of 
Isoude  seemed  to  meet  with  great  success;  but  after 
a  while  these  flattering  appearances  vanished,  and,  in 
spite  of  all  her  care,  the  malady  grew  more  serious  day 
by  day. 

In  this  perplexity,  an  old  squire  of  Tristram's  re- 
minded his  master  that  the  princess  of  Ireland,  after- 
wards queen  of  Cornwall,  had  once  cured  him  under  cir- 
cumstances quite  as  discouraging.  He  called  Isoude  of 
the  White  Hands  to  him,  told  her  of  his  former  cure, 
added  that  he  believed  that  the  Queen  Isoude  could  heal 
him,  and  that  he  felt  sure  that  she  would  come  to  his 
relief,  if  sent  for. 

Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  Gesnes, 
a  trusty  man  and  skilful  navigator,  should  be  sent  to 
Cornwall.  Tristram  called  him,  and,  giving  him  a  ring, 
"Take  this,"  he  said,  "to  the  Queen  of  Cornwall.  Tell 
her  that  Tristram,  near  to  death,  demands  her  aid.  If 
you  succeed  in  bringing  her  with  you,  place  white  sails 
to  your  vessel  on  your  return,  that  we  may  know  of  your 
success  when  the  vessel  first  heaves  in  sight.  But  if 


SIR  TRISTRAM  477 

Queen  Isoude  refuses,  put  on  black  sails;  they  will  be 
the  presage  of  my  impending  death." 

Gesnes  performed  his  mission  successfully.  King 
Mark  happened  to  be  absent  from  his  capital,  and  the 
queen  readily  consented  to  return  with  the  bark  to 
Brittany.  Gesnes  clothed  his  vessel  in  the  whitest  of 
sails,  and  sped  his  way  back  to  Brittany. 

Meantime  the  wound  of  Tristram  grew  more  des- 
perate day  by  day.  His  strength,  quite  prostrated,  no 
longer  permitted  him  to  be  carried  to  the  seaside  daily, 
as  had  been  his  custom  from  the  first  moment  when  it 
was  possible  for  the  bark  to  be  on  the  way  homeward. 
He  called  a  young  damsel,  and  gave  her  in  charge  to 
keep  watch  in  the  direction  of  Cornwall,  and  to  come 
and  tell  him  the  color  of  the  sails  of  the  first  vessel  she 
should  see  approaching. 

When  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  the 
queen  of  Cornwall  should  be  sent  for,  she  had  not  known 
all  the  reasons  which  she  had  for  fearing  the  influence 
which  renewed  intercourse  with  that  princess  might  have 
on  her  own  happiness.  She  had  now  learned  more,  and 
felt  the  danger  more  keenly.  She  thought,  if  she  could 
only  keep  the  knowledge  of  the  queen's  arrival  from  her 
husband,  she  might  employ  in  his  service  any  resources 
which  her  skill  could  supply,  and  still  avert  the  dangers 
which  she  apprehended.  When  the  vessel  was  seen  ap- 
proaching, with  its  white  sails  sparkling  in  the  sun,  the 
damsel,  by  command  of  her  mistress,  carried  word  to 
Tristram  that  the  sails  were  black. 

Tristram,  penetrated  with  inexpressible  grief,  breathed 
a  profound  sigh,  turned  away  his  face,  and  said,  "Alas, 
my  beloved!  we  shall  never  see  one  another  again!" 
Then  he  commended  himself  to  God,  and  breathed  his 
last. 

The  death  of  Tristram  was  the  first  intelligence  which 
the  queen  of  Cornwall  heard  on  landing.  She  was  con- 
ducted almost  senseless  into  the  chamber  of  Tristram, 
and  expired  holding  him  in  her  arms. 

Tristram,  before  his  death,  had  requested  that  his  body 
should  be  sent  to  Cornwall,  and  that  his  sword,  with 
a  letter  he  had  written,  should  be  delivered  to  King 


478       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Mark.  The  remains  of  Tristram  and  Isoude  were  em- 
barked in  a  vessel,  along  with  the  sword,  which  was  pre- 
sented to  the  king  of  Cornwall.  He  was  melted  with 
tenderness  when  he  saw  the  weapon  which  slew  Moraunt 
of  Ireland, — which  had  so  often  saved  his  life,  and  re- 
deemed the  honor  of  his  kingdom.  In  the  letter  Tristram 
begged  pardon  of  his  uncle,  and  related  the  story  of  the 
amorous  draught. 

Mark  ordered  the  lovers  to  be  buried  in  his  own 
chapel.  From  the  tomb  of  Tristram  there  sprung  a  vine, 
which  went  along  the  walls,  and  descended  into  the  grave 
of  the  queen.  It  was  cut  down  three  times,  but  each 
time  sprung  up  again  more  vigorous  than  before,  and 
this  wonderful  plant  has  ever  since  shaded  the  tombs  of 
Tristram  and  Isoude. 


Spenser  introduces  Sir  Tristram  in  his  "Faery 
Queene."  In  Book  VI.,  Canto  ii.,  Sir  Calidore  encoun- 
ters in  the  forest  a  young  hunter,  whom  he  thus  de- 
scribes : 

"Him  steadfastly  he  marked,  and  saw  to  be 
A  goodly  youth  of  amiable  grace, 
Yet  but  a  slender  slip,  that  scarce  did  see 
Yet  seventeen  yeares;  but  tall  and  faire  of  face, 
That  sure  he  deemed  him  borne  of  noble  race. 
All  in  a  woodman's  jacket  he  was  clad 
Of  Lincoln  greene,  belayed  with  silver  lace; 
And  on  his  head  an  hood  with  aglets  *  sprad, 
And  by  his  side  his  hunter's  home  he  hanging  had. 

"Buskins  he  wore  of  costliest  cordawayne, 
Pinckt  upon  gold,  and  paled  part  per  part,1 
As  then  the  guize  was  for  each  gentle  swayne. 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  trembling  dart, 
Whose  fellow  he  before  had  sent  apart; 
And  in  his  left  he  held  a  sharp  bore-speare, 
With  which  he  wont  to  launch  the  salvage  heart 
Of  many  a  lyon,  and  of  many  a  beare, 
That  first  unto  his  hand  in  chase  did  happen  neare." 

1  Aglets,  points  or  tags. 

a  Pvnckt  upon  gold,  etc.,  adorned  with  golden  points,  or  eyelets,  and 
regularly  intersected  with  stripes.  Paled  (in  heraldry),  striped. 


PERCEVAL  479 

CHAPTER   XVIII 

PERCEVAL 

THE  father  and  two  elder  brothers  of  Perceval  had 
fallen  in  battle  or  tournaments,  and  hence,  as  the  last 
hope  of  his  family,  his  mother  retired  with  him  into  a 
solitary  region,  where  he  was  brought  up  in  total  igno- 
rance of  arms  and  chivalry.  He  was  allowed  no  weapon 
but  "a  lyttel  Scots  spere,"  which  was  the  only  thing  of 
all  "her  lordes  faire  gere"  that  his  mother  carried  to  the 
wood  with  her.  In  the  use  of  this  he  became  so  skilful, 
that  he  could  kill  with  it  not  only  the  animals  of  the 
chase  for  the  table,  but  even  birds  on  the  wing.  At 
length,  however,  Perceval  was  roused  to  a  desire  of 
military  renown  by  seeing  in  the  forest  five  knights  who 
were  in  complete  armor.  He  said  to  his  mother, 
"Mother,  what  are  those  yonder?"  "They  are  angels, 
my  son,"  said  she.  "By  my  faith,  I  will  go  and  be- 
come an  angel  with  them."  And  Perceval  went  to  the 
road  and  met  them.  "Tell  me,  good  lad,"  said  one  of 
them,  "sawest  thou  a  knight  pass  this  way  either  to-day 
or  yesterday?"  "I  know  not,"  said  he,  "what  a  knight 
is."  "Such  an  one  as  I  am,"  said  the  knight.  "If  thou 
wilt  tell  me  what  I  ask  thee,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou 
askest  me."  "Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  said  Sir  Owain,  for 
that  was  the  knight's  name.  "What  is  this?"  demanded 
Perceval,  touching  the  saddle.  "It  is  a  saddle,"  said 
Owain.  Then  he  asked  about  all  the  accoutrements  which 
he  saw  upon  the  men  and  the  horses,  and  about  the  arms, 
and  what  they  were  for,  and  how  they  were  used.  And 
Sir  Owain  showed  him  all  those  things  fully.  And  Per- 
ceval in  return  gave  him  such  information  as  he  had. 

Then  Perceval  returned  to  his  mother,  and  said  to 
her,  "Mother,  those  were  not  angels,  but  honorable 
knights."  Then  his  mother  swooned  away.  And  Per- 
ceval went  to  the  place  where  they  kept  the  horses  that 
carried  firewood  and  provisions  for  the  castle,  and  he 
took  a  bony,  piebald  horse,  which  seemed  to  him  the 


480      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

strongest  of  them.  And  he  pressed  a  pack  into  the  form 
of  a  saddle,  and  with  twisted  twigs  he  imitated  the 
trappings  which  he  had  seen  upon  the  horses.  When  he 
came  again  to  his  mother,  the  countess  had  recovered 
from  her  swoon.  "My  son,"  said  she,  "desirest  thou  to 
ride  forth  ?"  "Yes,  with  thy  leave,"  said  he.  "Go  for- 
ward, then,"  she  said,  "to  the  court  of  Arthur,  where 
there  are  the  best  and  the  noblest  and  the  most  boun- 
tiful of  men,  and  tell  him  thou  art  Perceval,  the  son 
of  Pelenore,  and  ask  of  him  to  bestow  knighthood  on 
thee.  And  whenever  thou  seest  a  church,  repeat  there 
thy  pater-noster ;  and  if  thou  see  meat  and  drink,  and 
hast  need  of  them,  thou  mayest  take  them.  If  thou  hear 
an  outcry  of  one  in  distress,  proceed  toward  it,  especially 
if  it  be  the  cry  of  a  woman,  and  render  her  what  service 
thou  canst.  If  thou  see  a  fair  jewel,  win  it,  for  thus 
shalt  thou  acquire  fame;  yet  freely  give  it  to  another,  for 
thus  thou  shalt  obtain  praise.  If  thou  see  a  fair  woman, 
pay  court  to  her,  for  thus  thou  wilt  obtain  love." 

After  this  discourse  Perceval  mounted  the  horse  and 
taking  a  number  of  sharp-pointed  sticks  in  his  hand  he 
rode  forth.  And  he  rode  far  in  the  woody  wilderness 
without  food  or  drink.  At  last  he  came  to  an  opening 
in  the  wood  where  he  saw  a  tent,  and  as  he  thought  it 
might  be  a  church  he  said  his  pater-noster  to  it.  And 
he  went  towards  it;  and  the  door  of  the  tent  was  open. 
And  Perceval  dismounted  and  entered  the  tent.  In 
the  tent  he  found  a  maiden  sitting,  with  a  golden  front- 
let on  her  forehead  and  a  gold  ring  on  her  hand.  And 
Perceval  said,  "Maiden,  I  salute  you,  for  my  mother 
told  me  whenever  I  met  a  lady  I  must  respectfully  salute 
her."  Perceiving  in  one  corner  of  the  tent  some  food, 
two  flasks  full  of  wine,  and  some  boar's  flesh  roasted, 
he  said,  "My  mother  told  me,  whenever  I  saw  meat  and 
drink  to  take  it."  And  he  ate  greedily,  for  he  was  very 
hungry.  The  maiden  said,  "Sir,  thou  hadst  best  go 
quickly  from  here,  for  fear  that  my  friends  should  come, 
and  evil  should  befall  you."  But  Perceval  said,  "My 
mother  told  me  wheresoever  I  saw  a  fair  jewel  to  take 
it,"  and  he  took  the  gold  ring  from  her  finger,  and  put 
it  on  his  own;  and  he  gave  the  maiden  his  own  ring  in 


PERCEVAL  481 

exchange  for  hers ;  then  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
away. 

Perceval  journeyed  on  till  he  arrived  at  Arthur's  court. 
And  it  so  happened  that  just  at  that  time  an  uncpurte- 
ous  knight  had  offered  Queen  Guenever  a  gross  insult. 
For  when  her  page  was  serving  the  queen  with  a  golden 
goblet,  this  knight  struck  the  arm  of  the  page  and  dashed 
the  wine  in  the  queen's  face  and  over  her  stomacher. 
Then  he  said,  "If  any  have  boldness  to  avenge  this  in- 
sult to  Guenever,  let  him  follow  me  to  the  meadow." 
So  the  knight  took  his  horse  and  rode  to  the  meadow, 
carrying  away  the  golden  goblet.  And  all  the  household 
hung  down  their  heads  and  no  one  offered  to  follow 
the  knight  to  take  vengeance  upon  him.  For  it  seemed 
to  them  that  no  one  would  have  ventured  on  so  daring 
an  outrage  unless  he  possessed  such  powers,  through 
magic  or  charms,  that  none  could  be  able  to  punish 
him.  Just  then,  behold,  Perceval  entered  the  hall  upon 
the  bony,  piebald  horse,  with  his  uncouth  trappings.  In 
the  centre  of  the  hall  stood  Kay  the  Seneschal.  "Tell 
me,  tall  man,"  said  Perceval,  "is  that  Arthur  yonder?" 
"What  wouldst  thou  with  Arthur?"  asked  Kay.  "My 
mother  told  me  to  go  to  Arthur  and  receive  knighthood 
from  him."  "By  my  faith,"  said  he,  "thou  art  all  too 
meanly  equipped  with  horse  and  with  arms."  Then  all 
the  household  began  to  jeer  and  laugh  at  him.  But  there 
was  a  certain  damsel  who  had  been  a  whole  year  at 
Arthur's  court,  and  had  never  been  known  to  smile.  And 
the  king's  fool1  had  said  that  this  damsel  would  not  smile 
till  she  had  seen  him  who  would  be  the  flower  of  chiv- 
alry. Now  this  damsel  came  up  to  Perceval  and  told 
him,  smiling,  that  if  he  lived  he  would  be  one  of  the 
bravest  and  best  of  knights.  "Truly,"  said  Kay,  "thou 
art  ill  taught  to  remain  a  year  at  Arthur's  court,  with 
choice  of  society,  and  smile  on  no  one,  and  now  before 
the  face  of  Arthur  and  all  his  knights  to  call  such  a 
man  as  this  the  flower  of  knighthood ;"  and  he  gave  her 

1  A  fool  was  a  common  appendage  of  the  courts  of  those  days  when  this 
romance  was  written.  A  fool  was  the  ornament  held  in  next  estimation 
to  a  dwarf.  He  wore  a  white  dress  with  a  yellow  bonnet,  and  carried  a 
bell  or  bawble  in  his  hand.  Though  called  a  fool,  his  words  were  often 
weighed  and  remembered  as  if  there  were  a  sort  of  oracular  meaning  m 
them. 


482      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

a  box  on  the  ear,  that  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground. 
Then  said  Kay  to  Perceval,  "Go  after  the  knight  who 
went  hence  to  the  meadow,  overthrow  him  and  recover 
the  golden  goblet,  and  possess  thyself  of  his  horse  and 
arms,  and  thou  shalt  have  knighthood."  "I  will  do  so, 
tall  man,"  said  Perceval.  So  he  turned  his  horse's  head 
toward  the  meadow.  And  when  he  came  there,  the 
knight  was  riding  up  and  down,  proud  of  his  strength 
and  valor  and  noble  mien.  "Tell  me,"  said  the  knight, 
"didst  thou  see  any  one  coming  after  me  from  the 
court?"  "The  tall  man  that  was  there,"  said  Perceval, 
"told  me  to  come  and  overthrow  thee,  and  to  take  from 
thee  the  goblet  and  thy  horse  and  armor  for  myself." 
"Silence!"  said  the  knight;  "go  back  to  the  court,  and 
tell  Arthur  either  to  come  himself,  or  to  send  some 
other  to  fight  with  me;  and  unless  he  do  so  quickly,  I 
will  not  wait  for  him."  "By  my  faith,"  said  Perceval, 
"choose  thou  whether  it  shall  be  willingly  or  unwill- 
ingly, for  I  will  have  the  horse  and  the  arms  and  the 
goblet."  Upon  this  the  knight  ran  at  him  furiously,  and 
struck  him  a  violent  blow  with  the  shaft  of  his  spear, 
between  the  neck  and  the  shoulder.  "Ha,  ha,  lad !"  said 
Perceval,  "my  mother's  servants  were  not  used  to  play 
with  me  in  this  wise;  so  thus  will  I  play  with  thee." 
And  he  threw  at  him  one  of  his  sharp-pointed  sticks,  and 
it  struck  him  in  the  eye,  and  came  out  at  the  back  of  his 
head,  so  that  he  fell  down  lifeless. 

"Verily,"  said  Sir  Owain,  the  son  of  Urien,  to  Kay 
the  Seneschal,  "thou  wast  ill-advised  to  send  that  mad- 
man after  the  knight,  for  he  must  either  be  overthrown 
or  flee,  and  either  way  it  will  be  a  disgrace  to  Arthur 
and  his  warriors;  therefore  will  I  go  to  see  what  has 
befallen  him."  So  Sir  Owain  went  to  the  meadow,  and 
he  found  Perceval  trying  in  vain  to  get  the  dead  knight's 
armor  off,  in  order  to  clothe  himself  with  it.  Sir  Owain 
unfastened  the  armor,  and  helped  Perceval  to  put  it  on, 
and  taught  him  how  to  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and 
use  the  spur;  for  Perceval  had  never  used  stirrup  nor 
spur,  but  rode  without  saddle,  and  urged  on  his  horse 
with  a  stick.  Then  Owain  would  have  had  him  return 
to  the  court  to  receive  the  praise  that  was  his  due;  but 


PERCEVAL  483 

Perceval  said,  "I  will  not  come  to  the  court  till  I  have 
encountered  the  tall  man  that  is  there,  to  revenge  the 
injury  he  did  to  the  maiden.  But  take  thou  the  goblet  to 
Queen  Guenever,  and  tell  King  Arthur  that,  wherever 
1  am,  I  will  be  his  vassal,  and  will  do  him  what  profit 
and  service  I  can.'*  And  Sir  Owain  went  back  to  the 
court,  and  related  all  these  things  to  Arthur  and 
Guenever,  and  to  all  the  household. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  he  came  to  a  lake 
on  the  side  of  which  was  a  fair  castle,  and  on  the 
border  of  the  lake  he  saw  a  hoary-headed  man  sitting 
upon  a  velvet  cushion,  and  his  attendants  were  fishing  in 
the  lake.  When  the  hoary-headed  man  beheld  Perceval 
approaching,  he  arose  and  went  into  the  castle.  Per- 
ceval rode  to  the  castle,  and  the  door  was  open,  and  he 
entered  the  hall.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  received 
Perceval  courteously,  and  asked  him  to  sit  by  him  on 
the  cushion.  When  it  was  time  the  tables  were  set,  and 
they  went  to  meat.  And  when  they  had  finished  their 
meat  the  hoary-headed  man  asked  Perceval  if  he  knew 
how  to  fight  with  the  sword.  "I  know  not,"  said  Pei- 
ceval,  "but  were  I  to  be  taught,  doubtless  T  should/' 
And  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  him,  "I  am  thy  uncle, 
thy  mother's  brother ;  I  am  called  Kin£  Pecheur.1  Thou 
shalt  remain  with  me  a  space,  in  order  to  learn  the  man- 
ners and  customs  of  different  countries,  and  courtesy 
and  noble  bearing.  And  this  do  thou  remember,  if  thou 
seest  aught  to  cause  thy  wonder,  ask  not  the  meaning 
of  it;  if  no  one  has  the  courtesy  to  inform  thee,  the  re- 
proach will  not  fall  upon  thee,  but  upon  me  that  am  thy 
teacher."  While  Perceval  and  his  uncle  discoursed  to- 
gether, Perceval  beheld  two  youths  enter  the  hall  bear- 
ing a  golden  cup  and  a  spear  of  mighty  size,  with  blood 
dropping  from  its  point  to  the  ground.  And  when  all 
the  company  saw  this  they  began  to  weep  and  lament. 
But  for  all  that,  the  man  did  not  break  off  his  dis- 
course with  Perceval.  And  as  he  did  not  tell  him  the 
meaning  of  what  he  saw,  he  forebore  to  ask  him  con- 
cerning it.  Now  the  cup  that  Perceval  saw  was  the 
Sangreal,  and  the  spear  the  sacred  spear;  and  afterwards 

1  The  word  means  both  fisher  and  sinner. 


484      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

King  Pecheur  removed  with  those  sacred  relics  into  a 
far  country. 

One  evening  Perceval  entered  a  valley,  and  came  to 
a  hermit's  cell;  and  the  hermit  welcomed  him  gladly, 
and  there  he  spent  the  night.  And  in  the  morning  he 
arose,  and  when  he  went  forth,  behold!  a  shower  of 
snow  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  a  hawk  had  killed  a 
wild-fowl  in  front  of  the  cell.  And  the  noise  of  the 
horse  had  scared  the  hawk  away,  and  a  raven  alighted 
on  the  bird.  And  Perceval  stood  and  compared  the 
blackness  of  the  raven  and  the  whiteness  of  the  snow 
and  the  redness  of  the  blood  to  the  hair  of  the  lady  that 
best  he  loved,  which  was  blacker  than  jet,  and  to  her 
skin,  which  was  whiter  than  the  snow,  and  to  the  two 
red  spots  upon  her  cheeks,  which  were  redder  than  the 
blood  upon  the  snow. 

Now  Arthur  and  his  household  were  in  search  of 
Perceval,  and  by  chance  they  came  that  way.  "Know 
ye/'  said  Arthur,  "who  is  the  knight  with  the  long  spear 
that  stands  by  the  brook  up  yonder  ?"  "Lord/*  said  one 
of  them,  "I  will  go  and  learn  who  he  is."  So  the  youth 
came  to  the  place  where  Perceval  was,  and  asked  him 
what  he  did  thus,  and  who  he  was.  But  Perceval  was 
so  intent  upon  his  thought  that  he  gave  him  no  answer. 
Then  the  youth  thrust  at  Perceval  with  his  lance;  and 
Perceval  turned  upon  him,  and  struck  him  to  the  ground. 
And  when  the  youth  returned  to  the  king,  and  told 
how  rudely  he  had  been  treated,  Sir  Kay  said,  "I  will 
go  myself."  And  when  he  greeted  Perceval,  and  got  no 
answer,  he  spoke  to  him  rudely  and  angrily.  And  Per- 
ceval thrust  at  him  with  his  lance,  and  cast  him  down 
so  that  he  broke  his  arm  and  his  shoulder-blade.  And 
while  he  lay  thus  stunned  his  horse  returned  back  at  a 
wild  and  prancing  pace. 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  surnamed  the  Golden-Tongued, 
because  he  was  the  most  courteous  knight  in  Arthur's 
court:  "It  is  not  fitting  that  any  should  disturb  an  hon- 
orable knight  from  his  thought  unadvisedly;  for  either 
he  is  pondering  some  damage  that  he  has  sustained,  or 
he  is  thinking  of  the  lady  whom  best  he  loves.  If  it 


PERCEVAL  485 

seem  well  to  thee,  lord,  I  will  go  and  see  if  this 
knight  has  changed  from  his  thought,  and  if  he  has,  I 
will  ask  him  courteously  to  come  and  yisit  thee." 

And  Perceval  was  resting  on  the  shaft  of  his  spear, 
pondering  the  same  thought,  and  Sir  Gawain  came  to 
him,  and  said:  "If  I  thought  it  would  be  as  agreeable 
to  thee  as  it  would  be  to  me,  I  would  converse  with 
thee.  I  have  also  a  message  from  Arthur  unto  thee,  to 
pray  thee  to  come  and  visit  him.  And  two  men  have 
been  before  on  this  errand."  "That  is  true,"  said  Per- 
ceval ;  "and  uncourteously  they  came.  They  attacked  me, 
and  I  was  annoyed  thereat."  Then  he  told  him  the 
thought  that  occupied  his  mind,  and  Gawain  said,  "This 
was  not  an  ungentle  thought,  and  I  should  marvel  if  it 
were  pleasant  for  thee  to  be  drawn  from  it."  Then 
said  Perceval,  "Tell  me,  is  Sir  Kay  in  Arthur's  court?" 
"He  is,"  said  Gawain;  "and  truly  he  is  the  knight  who 
fought  with  thee  last."  "Verily,"  said  Perceval,  "I  am 
not  sorry  to  have  thus  avenged  the  insult  to  the  smiling 
maiden."  Then  Perceval  told  him  his  name,  and  said, 
"Who  art  thou?"  And  he  replied,  "I  am  Gawain."  "I 
am  right  glad  to  meet  thee,"  said  Perceval,  "for  I  have 
everywhere  heard  of  thy  prowess  and  uprightness;  and 
I  solicit  thy  fellowship."  *'Thou  shalt  have  it,  by  my 
faith;  and  grant  me  thine,"  said  he.  "Gladly  will  I  do 
so,"  answered  Perceval. 

So  they  went  together  to  Arthur,  and  saluted  him. 

"Behold,  lord,"  said  Gawain,  "him  whom  thou  hast 
sought  so  long."  "Welcome  unto  thee,  chieftain/*  said 
Arthur.  And  hereupon  there  came  the  queen  and  her 
handmaidens,  and  Perceval  saluted  them.  And  they 
were  rejoiced  to  see  him,  and  bade  him  welcome.  And 
Arthur  did  him  great  honor  and  respect  and  they  re- 
turned tcwpmte  Caetleon. 


486      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 
CHAPTER   XIX 

THE    SANGREAL,    OR    HOLY    GRAAL 

THE  Sangreal  was  the  cup  from  which  our  Saviour 
drank  at  his  last  supper.  He  was  supposed  to  have  given 
it  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  who  carried  it  to  Europe, 
together  with  the  spear  with  which  the  soldier  pierced 
the  Saviour's  side.  From  generation  to  generation,  one 
of  the  descendants  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  had  been  de- 
voted to  the  guardianship  of  these  precious  relics;  but 
on  the  sole  condition  of  leading  a  life  of  purity  in 
thought,  word,  and  deed.  For  a  long  time  the  Sangreal 
was  visible  to  all  pilgrims,  and  its  presence  conferred 
blessings  upon  the  land  in  which  it  was  preserved.  But 
at  length  one  of  those  holy  men  to  whom  its  guardian- 
ship had  descended  so  far  forgot  the  obligation  of  his 
sacred  office  as  to  look  with  unhallowed  eye  upon  a 
young  female  pilgrim  whose  robe  was  accidentally  loos- 
ened as  she  knelt  before  him.  The  sacred  lance  instantly 
punished  his  frailty,  spontaneously  falling  upon  him,  and 
inflicting  a  deep  wound.  The  marvellous  wound  could 
by  no  means  be  healed,  and  the  guardian  of  the  Sangreal 
was  ever  after  called  "Le  Roi  Pescheur," — The  Sinner 
King.  The  Sangreal  withdrew  its  visible  presence  from 
the  crowds  who  came  to  worship,  and  an  iron  age  suc- 
ceeded to  the  happiness  which  its  presence  had  diffused 
among  the  tribes  of  Britain. 

"But  then  the  times 
Grew  to  such  evil  that  the  Holy  cup 
Was  caught  away  to  heaven  and  disappeared." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

We  have  told  in  the  history  of  Merlin  how  that  great 
prophet  and  enchanter  sent  a  message  to  King  Arthur 
by  Sir  Gawain,  directing  him  to  undertake  the  recovery 
of  the  Sangreal,  informing  him  at  the  same  time  that 
the  knight  who  should  accomplish  that  sacred  quest  was 
already  born,  and  of  a  suitable  age  to  enter  upon  it. 


THE  SANGREAL,  OR  HOLY  GRAAL'   487 

Sir  Gawain  delivered  his  message,  and  the  king  was 
anxiously  revolving  in  his  mind  how  best  to  achieve  the 
enterprise,  when,  at  the  vigil  of  Pentecost,  all  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  Round  Table  being  met  together  at  Camelot, 
as  they  sat  at  meat,  suddenly  there  was  heard  a  clap  of 
thunder,  and  then  a  bright  light  burst  forth,  and  every 
knight,  as  he  looked  on  his  fellow,  saw  him,  in  seeming, 
fairer  than  ever  before.  All  the  hall  was  filled  with 
sweet  odors,  and  every  knight  had  such  meat  and  drink 
as  he  best  loved.  Then  there  entered  into  the  hall  the 
Holy  Graal,  covered  with  white  samite,  so  that  none 
could  see  it,  and  it  passed  through  the  hall  suddenly, 
and  disappeared.  During  this  time  no  one  spoke  a  word, 
but  when  they  had  recovered  breath  to  speak  King 
Arthur  said,  "Certainly  we  ought  greatly  to  thank  the 
Lord  for  what  he  hath  showed  us  this  day."  Then  Sir 
Gawain  rose  up,  and  made  a  vow  that  for  twelve  months 
and  a  day  he  would  seek  the  Sangreal,  and  not  return 
till  he  had  seen  it,  if  so  he  might  speed.  When  they  of 
the  Round  Table  heard  Sir  Gawain  say  so,  they  arose, 
the  most  part  of  them,  and  vowed  the  same.  When  King 
Arthur  heard  this,  he  was  greatly  displeased,  for  he 
knew  well  that  they  might  not  gainsay  their  vows. 
"Alas !"  said  he  to  Sir  Gawain,  "you  have  nigh  slain  me 
with  the  vow  and  promise  that  ye  have  made,  for  ye 
have  bereft  me  of  the  fairest  fellowship  that  ever  were 
seen  together  in  any  realm  of  the  world ;  for  when  they 
shall  depart  hence,  I  am  sure  that  all  shall  never  meet 
more  in  this  world/' 

SIR  GALAHAD 

At  that  time  there  entered  the  hall  a  good  old  man, 
and  with  him  he  brought  a  young  knight,  and  these 
words  he  said:  "Peace  be  with  you,  fair  lords."  Then 
the  old  man  said  unto  King  Arthur,  "Sir,  I  bring  you 
here  a  young  knight  that  is  of  kings'  lineage,  and  of 
the  kindred  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  being  the  son  of 
Dame  Elaine,  the  daughter  of  King  Pelles,  king  of  the 
foreign  country."  Now  the  name  of  the  young  knight 
was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he  was  the  son  of  Sir  Launcelot 


488      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

du  Lac;  but  he  had  dwelt  with  his  mother,  at  the  court 
of  King  Pelles,  his  grandfather,  till  now  he  was  old 
enough  to  bear  arms,  and  his  mother  had  sent  him  in 
the  charge  of  a  holy  hermit  to  King  Arthur's  court. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  beheld  his  son,  and  had  great  joy 
of  him.  And  Sir  Bohort  told  his  fellows,  "Upon  my 
life,  this  young  knight  shall  come  to  great  worship/'  The 
noise  was  great  in  all  the  court,  so  that  it  came  to  the 
queen.  And  she  said,  "I  would  fain  see  him,  for  he 
must  needs  be  a  noble  knight,  for  so  is  his  father."  And 
the  queen  and  her  ladies  all  said  that  he  resembled  much 
unto  his  father;  and  he  was  seemly  and  demure  as  a 
dove,  with  all  manner  of  good  features,  that  in  the  whole 
world  men  might  not  find  his  match.  And  King  Arthur 
said,  "God  make  him  a  good  man,  for  beauty  faileth 
him  not,  as  any  that  liveth." 

Then  the  hermit  led  the  young  knight  to  the  Siege 
Perilous;  and  he  lifted  up  the  cloth,  and  found  there 
letters  that  said,  "This  is  the  seat  of  Sir  Galahad,  the 
good  knight;"  and  he  made  him  sit  in  that  seat.  And 
all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  marvelled  greatly  at 
Sir  Galahad,  seeing  him  sit  securely  in  that  seat,  and 
said,  "This  is  he  by  whom  the  Sangreal  shall  be  achieved, 
for  there  never  sat  one  before  in  that  seat  without  being 
mischieved," 

On  the  next  day  the  king  said,  "Now,  at  this  quest 
of  the  Sangreal  shall  all  ye  of  the  Round  Table  depart, 
and  never  shall  I  see  you  again  altogether;  therefore  I 
will  that  ye  all  repair  to  the  meadow  of  Camelot,  for 
to  just  and  tourney  yet  once  more  before  ye  depart." 
But  all  the  meaning  of  the  king  was  to  see  Sir  Galahad 
proved.  So  then  were  they  all  assembled  in  the  meadow. 
Then  Sir  Galahad,  by  request  of  the  king  and  queen, 
put  on  his  harness  and  his  helm,  but  shield  would  he  take 
'xme  for  any  prayer  of  the  king.  And  the  queen  was 
in  a  tower,  with  all  her  ladies,  to  behold  that  tourna- 
ment. Then  Sir  Galahad  rode  into  the  midst  of  the 
meadow;  and  there  he  began  to  break  spears  marvel- 
lously, so  that  all  men  had  wonder  of  him,  for  he  sur- 
mounted all  knights  that  encountered  with  him,  except 
two,  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Perceval. 


THE  SANGREAL,  OR  HOLY  GRAAL   489 

"So  many  knights,  that  all  the  people  cried, 
And  almost  burst  the  barriers  in  their  heat, 
Shouting  'Sir  Galahad  and  Sir  Perceval ! ' " 

— Sir  Galahad. 

Then  the  king,  at  the  queen's  request,  made  him  to  alight, 
and  presented  him  to  the  queen;  and  she  said,  "Never 
two  men  resembled  one  another  more  than  he  and  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  therefore  it  is  no  marvel  that  he  is  like 
him  in  prowess." 

Then  the  king  and  the  queen  went  to  the  minster, 
and  the  knights  followed  them.  And  after  the  service 
was  done  they  put  on  their  helms  and  departed,  and 
there  was  great  sorrow.  They  rode  through  the  streets 
of  Camelot,  and  there  was  weeping  of  the  rich  and  poor ; 
and  the  king  turned  away,  and  might  not  speak  for 
weeping.  And  so  they  departed,  and  every  knight  took 
the  way  that  him  best  liked. 

Sir  Galahad  rode  forth  without  shield,  and  rode  four 
days,  and  found  no  adventure.  And  on  the  fourth  day 
he  came  to  a  white  abbey;  and  there  he  was  received 
with  great  reverence,  and  led  to  a  chamber.  He  met 
there  two  knights,  King  Bagdemagus  and  Sir  Uwaine, 
and  they  made  of  him  great  solace.  "Sirs,"  said  Sir 
Galahad,  "what  adventure  brought  you  hither?"  "Sir," 
said  they,  "it  is  told  us  that  within  this  place  is  a  shield, 
which  no  man  may  bear  unless  he  be  worthy ;  and  if  one 
unworthy  should  attempt  to  bear  it,  it  shall  surely  do 
him  a  mischief.  Then  King  Bagdemagus  said,  "I  fear 
not  to  bear  it,  and  that  shall  ye  see  to-morrow." 

So  on  the  morrow  they  arose,  and  heard  mass;  then 
King  Bagdemagus  asked  where  the  adventurous  shield 
was.  Anon  a  monk  led  him  behind  an  altar,  where  the 
shield  hung,  as  white  as  snow;  but  in  the  midst  there 
was  a  red  cross.  Then  King  Bagdemagus  took  the 
shield,  and  bare  it  out  of  the  minster;  and  he  said  to 
Sir  Galahad,  "If  it  please  you,  abide  here  till  ye  know 
how  I  shall  speed." 

Then  King  Bagdemagus  and  his  squire  rode  forth; 
and  when  they  had  ridden  a  mile  or  two,  they  saw  a 
goodly  knight  come  towards  them,  in  white  armor,  horse 
and  all;  and  he  came  as  fast  as  his  horse  might  run, 


490      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

with  his  spear  in  the  rest;  and  King  Bagdemagus  di- 
rected his  spear  against  him,  and  broke  it  upon  the 
white  knight,  but  the  other  struck  him  so  hard  that  he 
broke  the  mails,  and  thrust  him  through  the  right  shoul- 
der, for  the  shield  covered  him  not,  and  so  he  bare  him 
from  his  horse.  Then  the  white  knight  turned  his  horse 
and  rode  away. 

Then  the  squire  went  to  King  Bagdemagus,  and  asked 
him  whether  he  were  sore  wounded  or  not.  "I  am  sore 
wounded/'  said  he,  "and  full  hardly  shall  I  escape  death." 
Then  the  squire  set  him  on  his  horse,  and  brought  him  to 
an  abbey;  and  there  he  was  taken  down  softly,  and  un- 
armed, and  laid  in  a  bed,  and  his  wound  was  looked  to, 
for  he  lay  there  long,  and  hardly  escaped  with  his  life. 
And  the  squire  brought  the  shield  back  to  the  abbey. 

The  next  day  Sir  Galahad  took  the  shield,  and  within 
a  while  he  came  to  the  hermitage,  where  he  met  the  white 
knight,  and  each  saluted  the  other  courteously.  "Sir," 
said  Sir  Galahad,  "can  you  tell  me  the  marvel  of  the 
shield?"  "Sir,"  said  the  white  knight,  "that  shield  be- 
longed of  old  to  the  gentle  knight,  Joseph  of  Arimathea; 
and  when  he  came  to  die  he  said,  'Never  shall  man  bear 
this  shield  about  his  neck  but  he  shall  repent  it,  unto  the 
time  that  Sir  Galahad  the  good  knight  bear  it,  the  last  of 
my  lineage,  the  which  shall  do  many  marvellous  deeds/  " 
And  then  the  white  knight  vanished  away. 

SIR  GAWAIN 

After  Sir  Gawain  departed,  he  rode  many  days,  both 
toward  and  forward,  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  abbey 
where  Sir  Galahad  took  the  white  shield.  And  they  told 
Sir  Gawain  of  the  marvellous  adventure  that  Sir  Galahad 
had  done.  "Truly,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "I  am  not  happy 
that  I  took  not  the  way  that  he  went,  for,  if  I  may  meet 
with  him,  I  will  not  part  from  him  lightly,  that  I  may 
partake  with  him  all  the  marvellous  adventures  which  he 
shall  achieve."  "Sir,"  said  one  of  the  monks,  "he  will 
not  be  of  your  fellowship."  "Why?"  said  Sir  Gawain. 
"Sir,"  said  he,  "because  ye  be  sinful,  and  he  is  blissful." 
Then  said  the  monk,  "Sir  Gawain,  thou  must  do  penance 


THE  SANGREAL  *91 

for  thy  sins."  "Sir,  what  penance  shall  I  do?"  "Such 
as  I  will  show,"  said  the  good  man.  "Nay,"  said  Sii 
Gawain,  "I  will  do  no  penance,  for  we  knights  adven- 
turous often  suffer  great  woe  and  pain."  "Well,"  said 
the  good  man;  and  he  held  his  peace.  And  Sir  Gawain 
departed. 

Now  it  happened,  not  long  after  this,  that  Sir  Gawain 
and  Sir  Hector  rode  together,  and  they  came  to  a  castle 
where  was  a  great  tournament.  And  Sir  Gawain 
and  Sir  Hector  joined  themselves  to  the  party  that  seemed 
the  weaker,  and  they  drove  before  them  the  other  party. 
Then  suddenly  came  into  the  lists  a  knight,  bearing  a 
white  shield  with  a  red  cross,  and  by  adventure  he  came 
by  Sir  Gawain,  and  he  smote  him  so  hard  that  he  clave 
his  helm  and  wounded  his  head,  so  that  Sir  Gawain  fell 
to  the  earth.  When  Sir  Hector  saw  that,  he  knew  that 
the  knight  with  the  white  shield  was  Sir  Galahad,  and  he 
thought  it  no  wisdom  to  abide  him,  and  also  for  natural 
love,  that  he  was  his  uncle.  Then  Sir  Galahad  retired 
privily,  so  that  none  knew  where  he  had  gone.  And  Sir 
Hector  raised  up  Sir  Gawain,  and  said,  "Sir,  me  seemeth 
your  quest  is  done."  "It  is  done,"  said  Sir  Gawain ; 
"I  shall  seek  no  further."  Then  Gawain  was  borne  into 
the  castle,  and  unarmed,  and  laid  in  a  rich  bed,  and  a 
leech  found  to  search  his  wound.  And  Sir  Gawain  and 
Sir  Hector  abode  together,  for  Sir  Hector  would  not 
away  till  Sir  Gawain  were  whole. 


CHAPTER   XX 
THE  SANGREAL  (Continued) 

SIR  LAUNCELOT 

SIR  LAUNCELOT  rode  overthwart  and  endlong  in  a 
wide  forest,  and  held  no  path  but  as  wild  adventure  led 
htm. 

"My  golden  spurs  now  bring  to  me, 

And  bring  to  me  my  richest  mail, 
For  to-morrow  I  go  over  land  and  sea 
In  search  of  the  Holy,  Holy  Grail. 


492       KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Shall  never  a  bed  for  me  be  spread, 

Nor  shall  a  pillow  be  under  my  head, 

Till  I  begin  my  vow  to  keep. 

Here  on  the  rushes  will  I  sleep, 

And  perchance  there  may  come  a  vision  true 

Ere  day  create  the  world  anew." 

— Lowell's  Holy  Grail. 

And  at  last  he  came  to  a  stone  cross.  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  looked  round  him,  and  saw  an  old  chapel.  So 
he  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  put  off  his  shield,  and 
hung  it  upon  a  tree;  and  then  he  went  into  the  chapel, 
and  looked  through  a  place  where  the  wall  was  broken. 
And  within  he  saw  a  fair  altar,  full  richly  arrayed  with 
cloth  of  silk;  and  there  stood  a  fair  candlestick,  which 
bare  six  great  candles,  and  the  candlestick  was  of  silver. 
When  Sir  Launcelot  saw  this  sight,  he  had  a  great  wish 
to  enter  the  chapel,  but  he  could  find  no  place  where  he 
might  enter.  Then  was  he  passing  heavy  and  dismayed. 
And  he  returned  and  came  again  to  his  horse,  and  took 
off  his  saddle  and  his  bridle,  and  let  him  pasture;  and 
unlaced  his  helm,  and  ungirded  his  sword,  and  laid  him 
down  to  sleep  upon  his  shield  before  the  cross. 

And  as  he  lay,  half  waking  and  half  sleeping,  he  saw 
come  by  him  two  palfreys,  both  fair  and  white,  which 
oare  a  litter,  on  which  lay  a  sick  knight.  And  when  he 
was  nigh  the  cross,  he  there  abode  still.  And  Sir  Launce- 
lot heard  him  say,  "O  sweet  Lord,  when  shall  this  sor- 
row leave  me,  and  when  shall  the  holy  vessel  come  by 
me  whereby  I  shall  be  healed  ?"  And  thus  a  great  while 
complained  the  knight,  and  Sir  Launcelot  heard  it.  Then 
Sir  Launcelot  saw  the  candlestick,  with  the  lighted  ta- 
pers, come  before  the  cross,  but  he  could  see  nobody  that 
brought  it.  Also  there  came  a  salver  of  silver  and  the 
holy  vessel  of  the  Sangreal;  and  therewithal  the  sick 
knight  sat  him  upright,  and  held  up  both  his  hands,  and 
said,  "Fair,  sweet  Lord,  which  is  here  within  the  holy 
vessel,  take  heed  to  me,  that  I  may  be  whole  of  this 
great  malady."  And  therewith,  upon  his  hands  and 
upon  his  knees,  he  went  so  nigh  that  he  touched  the  holy 
vessel  and  kissed  it.  And  anon  he  was  whole.  Then 
the  holy  vessel  went  into  the  chapel  again,  with  the  can- 


THE  SANGREAL  493 

dlestick  and  the  light,  so  that  Sir  Launcelot  wist  not 
what  became  of  it. 

Then  the  sick  knight  rose  up  and  kissed  the  cross; 
and  anon  his  squire  brought  him  his  arms  and  asked  his 
lord  how  he  did.  "I  thank  God  right  heartily/'  said  he, 
"for,  through  the  holy  vessel,  I  am  healed.  But  I  have 
great  marvel  of  this  sleeping  knight,  who  hath  had 
neither  grace  nor  power  to  awake  during  the  time  that 
the  holy  vessel  hath  been  here  present."  "I  dare  it  right 
well  say,"  said  the  squire,  "that  this  same  knight  is 
stained  with  some  manner  of  deadly  sin,  whereof  he  was 
never  confessed."  So  they  departed. 

Then  anon  Sir  Launcelot  waked,  and  set  himself  up- 
right, and  bethought  him  of  what  he  had  seen  and 
whether  it  were  dreams  or  not.  And  he  was  passing 
heavy,  and  wist  not  what  to  do.  And  he  said:  "My 
sin  and  my  wretchedness  hath  brought  me  into  great 
dishonor.  For  when  I  sought  worldly  adventures  and 
worldly  desires,  I  ever  achieved  them,  and  had  the  bet- 
ter in  every  place,  and  never  was  I  discomfited  in  any 
quarrel,  were  it  right  or  wrong.  And  now  I  take  upon 
me  the  adventure  of  holy  things,  I  see  and  understand 
that  mine  old  sin  hindereth  me,  so  that  I  had  no  power 
to  stir  nor  to  speak  when  the  holy  blood  appeared  be- 
fore me."  So  thus  he  sorrowed  till  it  was  day,  and 
heard  the  fowls  of  the  air  sing.  Then  was  he  somewhat 
comforted. 

Then  he  departed  from  the  cross  into  the  forest.  And 
there  he  found  a  hermitage,  and  a  hermit  therein,  who 
was  going  to  mass.  So  when  mass  was  done  Sir  Launce- 
lot called  the  hermit  to  him,  and  prayed  him  for  charity 
to  hear  his  confession.  "With  a  good  will,"  said  the 
good  man.  And  then  he  told  that  good  man  all  his 
life,  and  how  he  had  loved  a  queen  unmeasurably  many 
years.  "And  all  my  great  deeds  of  arms  that  I  have 
done  I  did  the  most  part  for  the  queen's  sake,  and  for 
her  sake  would  I  do  battle,  were  it  right  or  wrong,  and 
never  did  I  battle  all  only  for  God's  sake,  but  for  to  win 
worship,  and  to  cause  me  to  be  better  beloved ;  and  little 
or  naught  I  thanked  God  for  it.  I  pray  you  counsel 
me." 


494      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

"I  will  counsel  you/'  said  the  hermit,  "if  ye  will  in- 
sure me  that  ye  will  never  come  in  that  queen's  fellow- 
ship as  much  as  ye  may  forbear."  And  then  Sir  Launce- 
lot  promised  the  hermit,  by  his  faith,  that  he  would  no 
more  come  in  her  company.  "Look  that  your  heart  and 
your  mouth  accord,"  said  the  good  man,  "and  I  shall 
insure  you  that  ye  shall  have  more  worship  than  ever 
ye  had." 

Then  the  good  man  enjoined  Sir  Launcelot  such  pen- 
ance as  he  might  do,  and  he  assailed  Sir  Launcelot  and 
made  him  abide  with  him  all  that  day.  And  Sir  Launce- 
lot repented  him  greatly. 

SIR    PERCEVAL 

Sir  Perceval  departed  and  rode  till  the  hour  of  noon ; 
and  he  met  in  a  valley  about  twenty  men  of  arms.  And 
when  they  saw  Sir  Perceval,  they  asked  him  whence 
he  was;  and  he  answered:  "Of  the  court  of  King  Ar- 
thur." Then  they  cried  all  at  once,  "Slay  him."  But 
Sir  Perceval  smote  the  first  to  the  earth,  and  his  horse 
upon  him.  Then  seven  of  the  knights  smote  upon  his 
shield  all  at  once,  and  the  remnant  slew  his  horse,  so 
that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  So  had  they  slain  him  or 
taken  him,  had  not  the  good  knight  Sir  Galahad,  with 
the  red  cross,  come  there  by  adventure.  And  when  he 
saw  all  the  knights  upon  one,  he  cried  out,  "Save  me 
that  knight's  life."  Then  he  rode  toward  the  twenty  men 
of  arms  as  fast  as  his  horse  might  drive,  with  his  spear 
in  the  rest,  and  smote  the  foremost  horse  and  man  to 
the  earth.  And  when  his  spear  was  broken,  he  set  his 
hand  to  his  sword,  and  smote  on  the  right  hand  and  on 
the  left,  that  it  was  marvel  to  see ;  and  at  every  stroke 
he  smote  down  one,  or  put  him  to  rebuke,  so  that 
they  would  fight  no  more,  but  fled  to  a  thick  forest,  and 
Sir  Galahad  followed  them.  And  when  Sir  Perceval 
saw  him  chase  them  so,  he  made  great  sorrow  that  his 
horse  was  slain.  And  he  wist  well  it  was  Sir  Galahad. 
Then  he  cried  aloud,  "Ah,  fair  knight,  abide,  and  suffer 
me  to  do  thanks  unto  thee;  for  right  well  have  ye  done 
LOT  me."  But  Sir  Galahad  rode  so  fast  that  at  last  he 


THE  SANGREAL  495 

passed  out  of  his  sight.  When  Sir  Perceval  saw  that  he 
would  not  turn,  he  said,  "Now  am  I  a  very  wretch,  and 
most  unhappy  above  all  other  knights."  So  in  his  sor- 
row he  abode  all  that  day  till  it  was  night;  and  then 
he  was  faint,  and  laid  him  down  and  slept  till  midnight ; 
and  then  he  awaked  and  saw  before  him  a  woman,  who 
said  unto  him,  "Sir  Perceval,  what  dost  thou  here  ?"  He 
answered,  "I  do  neither  good,  nor  great  ill."  "If  thou 
wilt  promise  me,"  said  she,  "that  thou  wilt  fulfil  my  will 
when  I  summon  thee,  I  will  lend  thee  my  own  horse, 
which  shall  bear  thee  whither  thou  wilt."  Sir  Perceval 
was  glad  of  her  proffer,  and  insured  her  to  fulfil  all 
her  desire.  "Then  abide  me  here,  and  I  will  go  fetch 
you  a  horse."  And  so  she  soon  came  again,  and  brought 
a  horse  with  her  that  was  inky  black.  When  Perceval 
beheld  that  horse  he  marvelled,  it  was  so  great  and  so 
well  apparelled.  And  he  leapt  upon  him  and  took  no 
heed  of  himself.  And  he  thrust  him  with  his  spurs,  and 
within  an  hour  and  less  he  bare  him  four  days'  journey 
thence,  until  he  came  to  a  rough  water,  which  roared, 
and  his  horse  would  have  borne  him  into  it.  And  when 
Sir  Perceval  came  nigh  the  brim  and  saw  the  water  so 
boisterous  he  doubted  to  overpass  it.  And  then  he  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead.  When  the  fiend 
felt  him  so  charged,  he  shook  off  Sir  Perceval,  and  went 
into  the  water  crying  and  roaring;  and  it  seemed  unto 
him  that  the  water  burned.  Then  Sir  Perceval  per- 
ceived it  was  a  fiend  that  would  have  brought  him  unto 
his  perdition.  Then  he  commended  himself  unto  God,  and 
prayed  our  Lord  to  keep  him  from  all  such  temptations ; 
and  so  he  prayed  all  that  night  till  it  was  day.  Then  he 
saw  that  he  was  in  a  wild  place,  that  was  closed  with 
the  sea  nigh  all  about.  And  Sir  Perceval  looked  forth 
over  the  sea,  and  saw  a  ship  come  sailing  towards  him; 
and  it  came  and  stood  still  under  the  rock.  And  when 
Sir  Perceval  saw  this,  he  hied  him  thither,  and  found 
the  ship  covered  with  silk;  and  therein  was  a  lady  of 
great  beauty,  and  clothed  so  richly  that  none  might  be 
better. 

And  when  she  saw  Sir  Perceval,  she  saluted  him,  and 
Sir  Perceval  returned  her  salutation.     Then  he  asked 


496      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

her  of  her  country  and  her  lineage.  And  she  said,  "I 
am  a  gentlewoman  that  am  disinherited,  and  was  once 
the  richest  woman  of  the  world."  "Damsel,"  said  Sir 
Perceval,  "who  hath  disinherited  you?  for  I  have  great 
pity  of  you."  "Sir,"  said  she,  "my  enemy  is  a  great 
and  powerful  lord,  and  aforetime  he  made  much  of  me, 
so  that  of  his  favor  and  of  my  beauty  I  had  a  little  pride 
more  than  I  ought  to  have  had.  Also  I  said  a  word  that 
pleased  him  not.  So  he  drove  me  from  his  company  and 
from  mine  heritage.  Therefore  I  know  no  good  knight 
nor  good  man,  but  I  get  him  on  my  side  if  I  may.  And 
for  that  I  know  that  thou  art  a  good  knight,  I  beseech 
thee  to  help  me." 

Then  Sir  Perceval  promised  her  all  the  help  that  he 
might,  and  she  thanked  him. 

And  at  that  time  the  weather  was  hot,  and  she  called 
to  her  a  gentlewoman,  and  bade  her  bring  forth  a  pa- 
vilion. And  she  did  so,  and  pitched  it  upon  the  gravel. 
"Sir,"  said  she,  "now  may  ye  rest  you  in  this  heat  of  the 
day."  Then  he  thanked  her,  and  she  put  off  his  helm 
and  his  shield,  and  there  he  slept  a  great  while.  Then 
he  awoke,  and  asked  her  if  she  had  any  meat,  and  she 
said  yea,  and  so  there  was  set  upon  the  table  all  man- 
ner of  meats  that  he  could  think  on.  Also  he  drank 
there  the  strongest  wine  that  ever  he  drank,  and  there- 
with he  was  a  little  chafed  more  than  he  ought  to  be. 
With  that  he  beheld  the  lady,  and  he  thought  she  was  the 
fairest  creature  that  ever  he  saw.  And  then  Sir  Perce- 
val proffered  her  love,  and  prayed  her  that  she  would  be 
his.  Then  she  refused  him  in  a  manner,  for  the  cause 
he  should  be  the  more  ardent  on  her,  and  ever  he  ceased 
not  to  pray  her  of  love.  And  when  she  saw  him  well  en- 
chafed,  then  she  said,  "Sir  Perceval,  wit  you  well  I  shall 
not  give  ye  my  love,  unless  you  swear  from  henceforth 
you  will  be  my  true  servant,  and  do  no  thing  but  that  I 
shall  command  you.  Will  you  insure  me  this,  as  ye 
be  a  true  knight?"  "Yea,"  said  he,  "fair  lady,  by  the 
faith  of  my  body."  And  as  he  said  this,  by  adventure 
and  grace,  he  saw  his  sword  lie  on  the  ground  naked, 
in  whose  pommel  was  a  red  cross,  and  the  sign  of  the 
crucifix  thereon.  Then  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on 


THE  SANGREAL  497 

his  forehead,  and  therewith  the  pavilion  shrivelled  up, 
and  changed  into  a  smoke  and  a  black  cloud.  And  the 
damsel  cried  aloud,  and  hasted  into  the  ship,  and  so  she 
went  with  the  wind  roaring  and  yelling  that  it  seemed  all 
the  water  burned  after  her.  Then  Sir  Perceval  made 
great  sorrow,  and  called  himself  a  wretch,  saying,  "How 
nigh  was  I  lost !"  Then  he  took  his  arms,  and  departed 
thence. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  SANGREAL   (Continued) 

SIR  BOHORT 

WHEN  Sir  Bohort  departed  from  Camelot  he  met 
with  a  religious  man,  riding  upon  an  ass;  and  Sir  Bo- 
hort saluted  him,  "What  are  ye?"  said  the  good  man. 
"Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "I  am  a  knight  that  fain  would 
be  counselled  in  the  quest  of  the  Sangreal."  So  rode 
they  both  together  till  they  came  to  a  hermitage;  and 
there  he  prayed  Sir  Bohort  to  dwell  that  night  with  him. 
So  he  alighted,  and  put  away  his  armor,  and  prayed 
him  that  he  might  be  confessed.  And  they  went  both 
into  the  chapel,  and  there  he  was  clean  confessed.  And 
they  ate  bread  and  drank  water  together.  "Now,"  said 
the  good  man,  "I  pray  thee  that  thou  eat  none  other  till 
thou  sit  at  the  table  where  the  Sangreal  shall  be."  "Sir," 
said  Sir  Bohort,  "but  how  know  ye  that  I  shall  sit 
there?"  "Yea,"  said  the  good  man,  "that  I  know  well; 
but  there  shall  be  few  of  your  fellows  with  you."  Then 
said  Sir  Bohort,  "I  agree  me  thereto."  And  the  good 
man  when  he  had  heard  his  confession  found  him  in  so 
pure  a  life  and  so  stable  that  he  marvelled  thereof. 

On  the  morrow,  as  soon  as  the  day  appeared,  Sir 
Bohort  departed  thence,  and  rode  into  a  forest  unto  the 
hour  of  midday.  And  there  befell  him  a  marvellous 
adventure.  For  he  met,  at  the  parting  of  two  ways,  two 
knights  that  led  Sir  Lionel,  his  brother,  all  naked,  bound 
upon  a  strong  hackney,  and  his  hands  bound  before  hic 


498      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

breast;  and  each  of  them  held  in  his  hand  thorns  where- 
with they  went  beating  him,  so  that  he  was  all  bloody 
before  and  behind;  but  he  said  never  a  word,  but,  as  he 
was  great  of  heart,  he  suffered  all  that  they  did  to  him 
as  though  he  had  felt  none  anguish.  Sir  Bohort  prepared 
to  rescue  his  brother.  But  he  looked  on  the  other  side  of 
him,  and  saw  a  knight  dragging  along  a  fair  gentle- 
woman, who  cried  out,  "Saint  Mary!  succor  your  maid!" 
And  when  she  saw  Sir  Bohort,  she  called  to  him,  and 
said,  "By  the  faith  that  ye  owe  to  knighthood,  help  me !" 
When  Sir  Bohort  heard  her  say  thus  he  had  such  sor- 
row that  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  "For  if  I  let  my 
brother  be  he  must  be  sliin,  and  that  would  I  not  for  all 
the  earth;  and  if  I  help  not  the  maid  I  am  shamed  for 
ever."  Then  lift  he  up  his  eyes  and  said,  weeping,  "Fair 
Lord,  whose  liegeman  I  am.  keep  Sir  Lionel,  my  brother, 
that  none  of  these  knights  slay  him,  and  for  pity  of 
you,  and  our  Lady's  sake,  I  shall  succor  this  maid." 

Then  he  cried  out  to  the  knight,  "Sir  knight,  lay  your 
hand  off  that  maid,  or  else  ye  be  but  dead."  Then  the 
knight  set  down  the  maid,  and  took  his  shield,  and  drew 
out  his  sword.  And  Sir  Bohort  smote  him  so  hard  that 
it  went  through  his  shield  and  habergeon,  on  the  left 
shoulder,  and  he  fell  down  to  the  earth.  Then  came 
Sir  Bohort  to  the  maid,  "Ye  be  delivered  of  this  knight 
this  time."  "Now,"  said  she,  "I  pray  you  lead  me  there 
where  this  knight  took  me."  "I  shall  gladly  do  it,"  said  Sir 
Bohort.  So  he  took  the  horse  of  the  wounded  knight, 
and  set  the  gentlewoman  upon  it,  and  brought  her  there 
where  she  desired  to  be.  And  there  he  found  twelve 
knights  seeking  after  her;  and  when  she  told  them  how 
Sir  Bohort  had  delivered  her,  they  made  great  joy,  and 
besought  him  to  come  to  her  father,  a  great  lord,  and  he 
should  be  right  welcomed.  "Truly,"  said  Sir  Bohort, 
"that  may  not  be;  for  I  have  a  great  adventure  to  do." 
So  he  commended  them  to  God  and  departed. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  rode  after  Sir  Lionel,  his  brother,  by 
the  trace  of  their  horses.  Thus  he  rode  seeking,  a  great 
while.  Then  he  overtook  a  man  clothed  in  a  religious 
clothing,  who  said,  "Sir  Knight,  what  seek  ye?"  "Sir," 
said  Sir  Bohort,  "I  seek  my  brother,  that  I  saw  within  a 


THE  SANGREAL  499 

little  space  beaten  of  two  knights."  "Ah,  Sir  Bohort, 
trouble  not  thyself  to  seek  for  him,  for  truly  he  is  dead/' 
Then  he  showed  him  a  new-slain  body,  lying  in  a  thick 
bush;  and  it  seemed  him  that  it  was  the  body  of  Sir 
Lionel.  And  then  he  made  such  sorrow  that  he  fell  to 
the  ground  in  a  swoon,  and  lay  there  long.  And  when 
he  came  to  himself  again,  he  said,  "Fair  brother,  since 
the  fellowship  of  you  and  me  is  sundered,  shall  I  never 
have  joy  again;  and  now  He  that  I  have  taken  for  my 
Master,  He  be  my  help !"  And  when  he  had  said  thus  he 
took  up  the  body  in  his  arms,  and  put  it  upon  the  horse. 
And  then  he  said  to  the  man,  "Canst  thou  tell  me  the 
way  to  some  chapel,  where  I  may  bury  this  body?" 
"Come  on,"  said  the  man,  "here  is  one  fast  by."  And 
so  they  rode  till  they  saw  a  fair  tower,  and  beside  it  a 
chapel.  Then  they  alighted  both,  and  put  the  body  into 
a  tomb  of  marble. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  commended  the  good  man  unto  God 
and  departed.  And  he  rode  all  that  day,  and  harbored 
with  an  old  lady.  And  on  the  morrow  he  rode  unto  the 
castle  in  a  valley,  and  there  he  met  with  a  yeoman, 
"Tell  me/'  said  Sir  Bohort,  "knowest  thou  of  any  ad- 
venture?" "Sir,"  said  he,  "here  shall  be,  under  thi? 
castle,  a  great  and  marvellous  tournament."  Then  Sii 
Bohort  thought  to  be  there,  if  he  might  meet  with  an\ 
of  the  fellowship  that  were  in  quest  of  the  Sangreal ;  sc 
he  turned  to  a  hermitage  that  was  on  the  border  of  th< 
forest.  And  when  he  was  come  hither,  he  found  there 
Sir  Lionel  his  brother,  who  sat  all  armed  at  the  entr) 
of  the  chapel  door.  And  when  Sir  Bohort  saw  him,  he 
had  great  joy,  and  he  alighted  off  his  horse,  and  said 
"Fair  brother,  when  came  ye  hither?"  As  soon  as  Sii 
Lionel  saw  him  he  said,  "Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  make  ye  nc 
false  show,  for,  as  for  you,  I  might  have  been  slain,  foi 
ye  left  me  in  peril  of  death  to  go  succor  a  gentlewoman 
and  for  that  misdeed  I  now  assure  you  but  death,  foi 
ye  have  right  well  deserved  it."  When  Sir  Bohort  per 
ceived  his  brother's  wrath  he  kneeled  down  to  the  eartl 
and  cried  him  mercy,  holding  up  both  his  hands,  am 
prayed  him  to  forgive  him.  "Nay,"  said  Sir  Lionel 
"thou  shalt  have  but  death  for  it  if  I  have  the  uppei 


500     KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

hand;  therefore  leap  upon  thy  horse  and  keep  thyself, 
and  if  thou  do  not  I  will  run  upon  thee  there  as  thou 
standest  on  foot,  and  so  the  shame  shall  be  mine,  and 
the  harm  thine,  but  of  that  I  reck  not."  When  Sir  Bp- 
hort  saw  that  he  must  fight  with  his  brother  or  else  die, 
he  wist  not  what  to  do.  Then  his  heart  counselled  him 
not  so  to  do,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Lionel  was  his  elder 
brother,  wherefore  he  ought  to  bear  him  reverence. 
Yet  kneeled  he  down  before  Sir  Lionel's  horse's  feet,  and 
said,  "Fair  brother,  have  mercy  upon  me  and  slay  me 
not."  But  Sir  Lionel  cared  not,  for  the  fiend  had 
brought  him  in  such  a  will  that  he  should  slay  him. 
When  he  saw  that  Sir  Bohort  would  not  rise  to  give  him 
battle,  he  rushed  over  him,  so  that  he  smote  him  with  his 
horse's  feet  to  the  earth,  and  hurt  him  sore,  that  he 
swooned  of  distress.  When  Sir  Lionel  saw  this  he 
alighted  from  his  horse  for  to  have  smitten  off  his  head ; 
and  so  he  took  him  by  the  helm,  and  would  have  rent  it 
from  his  head.  But  it  happened  that  Sir  Colgrevance,  a 
knight  of  the  Round  Table,  came  at  that  time  thither,  as 
it  was  our  Lord's  will;  and  then  he  beheld  how  Sir 
Lionel  would  have  slain  his  brother,  and  he  knew  Sir 
Bohort,  whom  he  loved  right  well. 

Then  leapt  he  down  from  his  horse  and  took  Sir 
Lionel  by  the  shoulders,  and  drew  him  strongly  back 
from  Sir  Bohort,  and  said,  "Sir  Lionel,  will  ye  slay  your 
brother?"  "Why,"  said  Sir  Lionel,  "will  ye  stay  me? 
If  ye  interfere  in  this  I  will  slay  you,  and  him  after." 
Then  he  ran  upon  Sir  Bohort,  and  would  have  smitten 
him;  but  Sir  Colgrevance  ran  between  them,  and  said, 
"If  ye  persist  to  do  so  any  more,  we  two  shall  meddle 
together."  Then  Sir  Lionel  defied  him,  and  gave  him  a 
great  stroke  through  the  helm.  Then  he  drew  his  sword, 
for  he  was  a  passing  good  knight,  and  defended  him- 
self right  manfully.  So  long  endured  the  battle,  that  Sir 
Bohort  rose  up  all  anguishly,  and  beheld  Sir  Colgre- 
vance, the  good  knight,  fight  with  his  brother  for  his 
quarrel.  Then  was  he  full  sorry  and  heavy,  and  thought 
that  if  Sir  Colgrevance  slew  him  that  was  his  brother 
he  should  never  have  joy,  and  if  his  brother  slew  Sir 
Colgrevance  the  shame  should  ever  be  his. 


THE  SANGREAL  501 

Then  would  he  have  risen  for  to  have  parted  them, 
but  he  had  not  so  much  strength  to  stand  on  his  feet ;  so 
he  staid  so  long  that  Sir  Colgrevance  had  the  worse ;  for 
Sir  Lionel  was  of  great  chivalry  and  right  hardy.  Then 
cried  Sir  Colgrevance,  "Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  why  come  ye 
not  to  bring  me  out  of  peril  of  death,  wherein  I  have 
put  me  to  succor  you  ?"  With  that,  Sir  Lionel  smote  off 
his  helm  and  bore  him  to  the  earth.  And  when  he  had 
slain  Sir  Colgrevance  he  ran  upon  his  brother  as  a 
fiendly  man,  and  gave  him  such  a  stroke  that  he  made 
him  stoop.  And  he  that  was  full  of  humility  prayed 
him,  "for  God's  sake  leave  this  battle,  for  if  it  befell, 
fair  brother,  that  I  slew  you,  or  ye  me,  we  should  be 
dead  of  that  sin/'  "Pray  ye  not  me  for  mercy,"  said 
Sir  Lionel.  Then  Sir  Bohort,  all  weeping,  drew  his 
sword,  and  said,  "Now  God  have  mercy  upon  me,  though 
I  defend  my  life  against  my  brother."  With  that  Sir 
Bohort  lifted  up  his  sword,  and  would  have  smitten 
his  brother.  Then  he  heard  a  voice  that  said,  "Flee,  Sir 
Bohort,  and  touch  him  not."  Right  so  alighted  a  cloud 
between  them,  in  the  likeness  of  a  fire  and  a  marvellous 
flame,  so  that  they  both  fell  to  the  earth,  and  lay  there 
a  great  while  in  a  swoon.  And  when  they  came  to  them- 
selves, Sir  Bohort  saw  that  his  brother  had  no  harm; 
and  he  was  right  glad,  for  he  dread  sore  that  God  had 
taken  vengeance  upon  him.  Then  Sir  Lionel  said  to  his 
brother,  "Brother,  forgive  me,  for  God's  sake,  all  that 
I  have  trespassed  against  you."  And  Sir  Bohort  an- 
swered, "God  forgive  it  thee,  and  I  do." 

With  that  Sir  Bohort  heard  a  voice  say,  "Sir  Bohort, 
take  thy  way  anon,  right  to  the  sea,  for  Sir  Perceval 
abideth  thee  there."  So  Sir  Bohort  departed,  and  rode 
the  nearest  way  to  the  sea.  And  at  last  he  came  to  an 
abbey  that  was  nigh  the  sea.  That  night  he  rested  him 
there,  and  in  his  sleep  there  came  a  voice  unto  him  and 
bade  him  go  to  the  sea-shore.  He  started  up,  and  made 
a  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead,  and  armed  himself, 
and  made  ready  his  horse  and  mounted  him,  and  at  a 
broken  wall  he  rode  out,  and  came  to  the  sea-shore.  And 
there  he  found  a  ship,  covered  all  with  white  samite. 
And  he  entered  into  the  ship;  but  it  was  anon  so  dark 


502      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

that  he  might  see  no  man,  and  he  laid  him  down  and 
slept  till  it  was  day.  Then  he  awaked,  and  saw  in  the 
middle  of  the  ship  a  knight  all  armed,  save  his  helm. 
And  then  he  knew  it  was  Sir  Perceval  de  Galis,  and 
each  made  of  other  right  great  joy.  Then  said  Sir  Per- 
ceval, "We  lack  nothing  now  but  the  good  knight  Sir 
Galahad." 

SIR  LAUNCELOT  (Resumed) 

It  befell  upon  a  night  Sir  Launcelot  arrived  before  a 
castle,  which  was  rich  and  fair.  And  there  was  a  pos- 
tern that  was  opened  toward  the  sea,  and  was  open 
without  any  keeping,  save  two  lions  kept  the  entry ; 
and  the  moon  shined  clear.  Anon  Sir  Launcelot  heard 
a  voice  that  said,  "Launcelot,  enter  into  the  castle, 
where  thou  shalt  see  a  great  part  of  thy  desire."  So 
he  went  unto  the  gate,  and  saw  the  two  lions;  then 
he  set  hands  to  his  sword,  and  drew  it.  Then  there 
came  suddenly  as  it  were  a  stroke  upon  the  arm,  so 
sore  that  the  sword  fell  out  of  his  hand,  and  he 
heard  a  voice  that  said,  "O  man  of  evil  faith,  where- 
fore believest  thou  more  in  thy  armor  than  in  thy 
Maker?"  Then  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "Fair  Lord,  I  thank 
thee  of  thy  great  mercy,  that  thou  reprovest  me  of  my 
misdeed;  now  see  I  well  that  thou  holdest  me  for  thy 
servant."  Then  he  made  a  cross  on  his  forehead,  and 
came  to  the  lions;  and  they  made  semblance  to  do  him 
harm,  but  he  passed  them  without  hurt,  and  entered  into 
the  castle,  and  he  found  no  gate  nor  door  but  it  was 
open.  But  at  the  last  he  found  a  chamber  whereof  the 
door  was  shut;  and  he  set  his  hand  thereto,  to  have 
opened  it,  but  he  might  not.  Then  he  listened,  and  heard 
a  voice  which  sung  so  sweetly  that  it  seemed  none  earth- 
ly thing;  and  the  voice  said,  "Joy  and  honor  be  to  the 
Father  of  heaven."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down 
before  the  chamber,  for  well  he  wist  that  there  was  the 
Sangreal  in  that  chamber.  Then  said  he,  "Fair,  sweet 
Lord,  if  ever  I  did  anything  that  pleased  thee,  for  thy 
pity  show  me  something  of  that  which  I  seek."  And 
with  that  he  saw  the  chamber  door  open,  and  there  came 


THE  SANGREAL  503 

out  a  great  clearness,  that  the  house  was  as  bright  as 
though  all  the  torches  of  the  world  had  been  there.  So 
he  came  to  the  chamber  door,  and  would  have  entered; 
and  anon  a  voice  said  unto  him,  "Stay,  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  enter  not."  And  he  withdrew  him  back,  and  was 
right  heavy  in  his  mind.  Then  looked  he  in  the  midst 
of  the  chamber,  and  saw  a  table  of  silver,  and  the  holy 
vessel,  covered  with  red  samite,  and  many  angels  about 
it;  whereof  one  held  a  candle  of  wax  burning,  and  an- 
other held  a  cross,  and  the  ornaments  of  the  altar. 

"O,  yet  methought  I  saw  the  Holy  Grail, 
All  pall'd  in  crimson  samite,  and  around 
Great  angels,  a^  ful  shapes,  and  wings  and  eyes." 

— The  Holy  Grail. 

Then  for  very  wonder  and  thankfulness  Sir  Launcelot 
forgot  himself  and  he  stepped  forward  and  entered  the 
chamber.  And  suddenly  a  breath  that  seemed  intermixed 
with  fire  smote  him  so  sore  in  the  visage  that  therewith 
he  fell  to  the  ground,  and  had  no  power  to  rise.  Then 
felt  he  many  hands  about  him,  which  took  him  up  and 
bare  him  out  of  the  chamber,  without  any  amending  of 
his  swoon,  and  left  him  there,  seeming  dead  to  all  the 
people.  So  on  the  morrow,  when  it  was  fair  daylight, 
and  they  within  were  arisen,  they  found  Sir  Launcelot 
lying  before  the  chamber  door.  And  they  looked  upon 
him  and  felt  his  pulse,  to  know  if  there  were  any  life  in 
him.  And  they  found  life  in  him,  but  he  might  neither 
stand  nor  stir  any  member  that  he  had.  So  they  took 
him  and  bare  him  into  a  chamber,  and  laid  him  upon  a 
bed,  far  from  all  folk,  and  there  he  lay  many  days.  Then 
the  one  said  he  was  alive,  and  the  others  said  nay.  But 
said  an  old  man,  "He  is  as  full  of  life  as  the  mightiest  of 
you  all,  and  therefore  I  counsel  you  that  he  be  well 
kept  till  God  bring  him  back  again."  And  after  twenty- 
four  days  he  opened  his  eyes;  and  when  he  saw  folk  he 
made  great  sorrow,  and  said,  "Why  have  ye  wakened 
me?  for  I  was  better  at  ease  than  I  am  now."  "What 
have  ye  seen?"  said  they  about  him.  "I  have  seen," 
said  he,  "great  marvels  that  no  tongue  can  tell,  and  more 
than  any  heart  can  think."  Then  they  said,  "Sir,  the 


504      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

quest  of  the  Sangreal  is  achieved  right  now  in  you,  and 
never  shall  ye  see  more  of  it  than  ye  have  seen."  "I 
thank  God/1  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "of  his  great  mercy,  for 
that  I  have  seen,  for  it  sufficeth  me."  Then  he  rose  up 
and  clothed  himself;  and  when  he  was  so  arrayed  they 
marvelled  all,  for  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot  the 
good  knight.  And  after  four  days  he  took  his  leave  of 
the  lord  of  the  castle,  and  of  all  the  fellowship  that  were 
there,  and  thanked  them  for  their  great  labor  and  care 
of  him.  Then  he  departed,  and  turned  to  Camelot,  where 
he  found  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever;  but  many 
of  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table  were  slain  and  de- 
stroyed, more  than  half.  Then  all  the  court  was  passing 
glad  of  Sir  Launcelot ;  and  he  told  the  king  all  his  ad- 
ventures that  had  befallen  him  since  he  departed. 

SIR    GALAHAD 

Now,  when  Sir  Galahad  had  rescued  Perceval  from 
the  twenty  knights,  he  rode  into  a  vast  forest,  wherein 
he  abode  many  days.  Then  he  took  his  way  to  the  sea, 
and  it  befell  him  that  he  was  benighted  in  a  hermit- 
age. And  the  good  man  was  glad  when  he  saw  he 
was  a  knight-errant.  And  when  they  were  at  rest, 
there  came  a  gentlewoman  knocking  at  the  door;  and 
the  good  man  came  to  the  door  to  wit  what  she 
would.  Then  she  said,  "I  would  speak  with  the  knight 
which  is  with  you."  Then  Galahad  went  to  her,  and 
asked  her  what  she  would.  "Sir  Galahad,"  said  she,  "I 
will  that  ye  arm  you,  and  mount  upon  your  horse,  and 
follow  me;  for  I  will  show  you  the  highest  adventure 
that  ever  knight  saw."  Then  Galahad  armed  himself  and 
commended  himself  to  God,  and  bade  the  damsel  go  be- 
fore, and  he  would  follow  where  she  led. 

So  she  rode  as  fast  as  her  palfrey  might  bear  her,  till 
she  came  to  the  sea;  and  there  they  found  the  ship 
where  Sir  Bohort  and  Sir  Perceval  were,  who  cried 
from  the  ship,  "Sir  Galahad,  you  are  welcome;  we  have 
waited  you  long."  And  when  he  heard  them,  he  asked 
the  damsel  who  they  were.  "Sir,"  said  she,  "leave  your 
horse  here,  and  I  shall  leave  mine,  and  we  will  join  our- 


THE  SANGREAL  505 

selves  to  their  company."  So  they  entered  into  the 
ship,  and  the  two  knights  received  them  both  with  great 
joy.  For  they  knew  the  damsel,  that  she  was  Sir  Per- 
ceval's sister.  Then  the  wind  arose  and  drove  them 
through  the  sea  all  that  day  and  the  next,  till  the  ship 
arrived  between  two  rocks,  passing  great  and  marvel- 
lous; but  there  they  might  not  land,  for  there  was  a 
whirlpool;  but  there  was  another  ship,  and  upon  it  they 
might  go  without  danger.  "Go  we  thither,"  said  the 
gentlewoman,  "and  there  we  shall  see  adventures,  for 
such  is  our  Lord's  will."  Then  Sir  Galahad  blessed  him, 
and  entered  therein,  and  then  next  the  gentlewoman,  and 
then  Sir  Bohort  and  Sir  Perceval.  And  when  they  came 
on  board  they  found  there  the  table  of  silver,  and  the 
Sangreal,  which  was  covered  with  red  samite.  And  they 
made  great  reverence  thereto,  and  Sir  Galahad  prayed  a 
long  time  to  our  Lord,  that  at  what  time  he  should  ask 
to  pass  out  of  this  world  he  should  do  so;  and  a  voice 
said  to  him,  "Galahad,  thou  shalt  have  thy  request;  and 
when  thou  askest  the  death  of  thy  body,  thou  shalt  have 
it,  and  then  shalt  thou  find  the  life  of  thy  soul." 

And  anon  the  wind  drove  them  across  the  sea,  till 
they  came  to  the  city  of  Sarras.  Then  took  they  out  of 
the  ship  the  table  of  silver,  and  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bo- 
hort took  it  before,  and  Sir  Galahad  came  behind,  and 
right  so  they  went  to  the  city.  And  at  the  gate  of  the 
city  they  saw  an  old  man,  a  cripple. 

"And  Sir  Launfal  said,  'I  behold  in  thee 
An  image  of  Him  who  died  on  the  tree. 
Thou  also  hast  had  thy  crown  of  thorns, 
Thou  also  hast  had  the  world's  buffets  and  scorns ; 
And  to  thy  life  were  not  denied 
The  wounds  in  thy  hands  and  feet  and  side. 
Mild  Mary's  son,  acknowledge  me ; 
Behold,  through  Him  I  give  to  thee !' " 

— Lowell's  Holy  Grail. 

Then  Galahad  called  him,  and  bade  him  help  to  bear 
this  heavy  thing.  "Truly,"  said  the  old  man,  "it  is  ten 
years  since  I  could  not  go  but  with  crutches."  "Care 
thou  not,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  "but  arise  up,  and  show  thy 
good  will."  Then  the  old  man  rose  up,  and  assayed,  and 


506     KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

found  himself  as  whole  as  ever  he  was ;  and  he  ran  to  the 
table,  and  took  one  part  with  Sir  Galahad. 

When  they  came  to  the  city  it  chanced  that  the  king 
was  just  dead,  and  all  the  city  was  dismayed,  and  wist 
not  who  might  be  their  king.  Right  so,  as  they  were  in 
counsel,  there  came  a  voice  among  them,  and  bade  them 
choose  the  youngest  knight  of  those  three  to  be  their 
king.  So  they  made  Sir  Galahad  king,  by  all  the  assent 
of  the  city.  And  when  he  was  made  king,  he  command- 
ed to  make  a  chest  of  gold  and  of  precious  stones  to  hold 
the  holy  vessel.  And  every  day  the  three  companions 
would  come  before  it  and  make  their  prayers. 

Now  at  the  year's  end,  and  the  same  day  of  the  year 
that  Sir  Galahad  received  the  crown,  he  got  up  early, 
and,  with  his  fellows,  came  to  where  the  holy  vessel 
was ;  and  they  saw  one  kneeling  before  it  that  had  about 
him  a  great  fellowship  of  angels ;  and  he  called  Sir  Gala- 
had, and  said,  "Come,  thou  servant  of  the  Lord,  and 
thou  shalt  see  what  thou  hast  much  desired  to  see."  And 
Sir  Galahad's  mortal  flesh  trembled  right  hard  when  he 
began  to  behold  the  spiritual  things.  Then  said  the  good 
man,  "Now  wottest  thou  who  I  am?"  "Nay,"  said 
Sir  Galahad.  "I  am  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  wnom  our 
Lord  hath  sent  here  to  thee,  to  bear  thee  fellowship." 
Then  Sir  Galahad  held  up  his  hands  toward  heaven, 
and  said,  "Now,  blessed  Lord,  would  I  not  longer  live, 
if  it  might  please  thee."  And  when  he  had  said  these 
words,  Sir  Galahad  went  to  Sir  Perceval  and  to  Sir 
Bohort  and  kissed  them,  and  commended  them  to  God. 
And  then  he  kneeled  down  before  the  table,  and  made 
his  prayers,  and  suddenly  his  soul  departed,  and  a  great 
multitude  of  angels  bare  his  soul  up  to  heaven,  so  as  the 
two  fellows  could  well  behold  it.  Also  they  saw  come 
from  heaven  a  hand,  but  they  saw  not  the  body;  and 
the  hand  came  right  to  the  vessel  and  bare  it  up  to 
heaven.  Since  then  was  there  never  one  so  hardy  as  to 
say  that  he  had  seen  the  Sangreal  on  earth  any  more. 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON  507 

CHAPTER   XXII 
SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON 

WHEN  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort  saw  Sir  Galahad 
dead  they  made  as  much  sorrow  as  ever  did  two  men. 
And  if  they  had  not  been  good  men  they  might  have 
fallen  into  despair.  As  soon  as  Sir  Galahad  was  buried 
Sir  Perceval  retired  to  a  hermitage  out  of  the  city,  and 
took  a  religious  clothing;  and  Sir  Bohort  was  always 
with  him,  but  did  not  change  his  secular  clothing,  be- 
cause he  purposed  to  return  to  the  realm  of  Loegria. 
Thus  a  year  and  two  months  lived  Sir  Perceval  in  the 
hermitage  a  full  holy  life,  and  then  passed  out  of  this 
world,  and  Sir  Bohort  buried  him  by  his  sister  and  Sir 
Galahad.  Then  Sir  Bohort  armed  himself  and  departed 
from  Sarras,  and  entered  into  a  ship,  and  sailed  to  the 
kingdom  of  Loegria,  and  in  due  time  arrived  safe  at 
Camelot,  where  the  king  was.  Then  was  there  great 
joy  made  of  him  in  the  whole  court,  for  they  feared  he 
had  been  dead.  Then  the  king  made  great  clerks  to 
come  before  him,  that  they  should  chronicle  of  the 
high  adventures  of  the  good  knights.  And  Sir  Bohort 
told  him  of  the  adventures  that  had  befallen  him,  and 
his  two  fellows,  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Galahad.  And 
Sir  Launcelot  told  the  adventures  of  the  Sangreal  that 
he  had  seen.  All  this  was  made  in  great  books,  and  put 
up  in  the  church  at  Salisbury. 

So  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever  made  great  joy 
of  the  remnant  that  were  come  home,  and  chiefly  of  Sir 
Launcelot  and  Sir  Bohort.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  began 
to  resort  unto  Queen  Guenever  again,  and  forgot  the 
promise  that  he  made  in  the  quest;  so  that  many  in  the 
court  spoke  of  it,  and  in  especial  Sir  Agrivain,  Sir 
Gawain's  brother,  for  he  was  ever  open-mouthed.  So 
it  happened  Sir  Gawain  and  all  his  brothers  were  in  King 
Arthur's  chamber,  and  then  Sir  Agrivain  said  thus 
openly,  "I  marvel  that  we  all  are  not  ashamed  to  see 
and  to  know  so  noble  a  knight  as  King  Arthur  so  to 


508      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

be  shamed  by  the  conduct  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  the 
queen."  Then  spoke  Sir  Gawain,  and  said,  "Brother, 
Sir  Agrivain,  I  pray  you  and  charge  you  move  not  such 
matters  any  more  before  me,  for  be  ye  assured  I  will 
not  be  of  your  counsel."  "Neither  will  we,"  said  Sir 
Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth.  "Then  will  I,"  said  Sir  Mo- 
dred. "I  doubt  you  not,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "for  to  all 
mischief  ever  were  ye  prone;  yet  I  would  that  ye  left 
all  this,  for  I  know  what  will  come  of  it." 

"Modred's  narrow  foxy  face, 
Heart-hiding  smile,  and  gray  persistent  eye: 
Henceforward,  too,  the  Powers  that  tend  the  soul 
To  help  it  from  the  death  that  cannot  die, 
And  save  it  even  in  extremes,  began 
To  vex  and  plague." 

— Guinevere. 

"Fall  of  it  what  fall  may,"  said  Sir  Agrivain,  "I  will 
disclose  it  to  the  king."  With  that  came  to  them  King 
Arthur.  "Now,  brothers,  hold  your  peace,"  said  Sir 
Gawain.  "We  will  not,"  said  Sir  Agrivain.  Then  said 
Sir  Gawain,  "I  will  not  hear  your  tales  nor  be  of  your 
counsel."  "No  more  will  I,"  said  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir 
Gaheris,  and  therewith  they  departed,  making  great 
sorrow. 

Then  Sir  Agrivain  told  the  king  all  that  was  said  in 
the  court  of  the  conduct  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  queen, 
and  it  grieved  the  king  very  much.  But  he  would  not 
believe  it  to  be  true  without  proof.  So  Sir  Agrivain 
laid  a  plot  to  entrap  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  queen,  in- 
tending to  take  them  together  unawares.  Sir  Agrivain 
and  Sir  Modred  led  a  party  for  this  purpose,  but  Sir 
Launcelot  escaped  from  them,  having  slain  Sir  Agrivain 
and  wounded  Sir  Modred.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  hastened 
to  his  friends,  and  told  them  what  had  happened,  and 
withdrew  with  them  to  the  forest;  but  he  left  spies  to 
bring  him  tidings  of  whatever  might  be  done. 

So  Sir  Launcelot  escaped,  but  the  queen  remained  in 
the  king's  power,  and  Arthur  could  no  longer  doubt 
of  her  guilt.  And  the  law  was  such  in  those  days  that 
they  who  committed  such  crimes,  of  what  estate  or 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON  509 

condition  soever  they  were,  must  be  burned  to  death, 
and  so  it  was  ordained  for  Queen  Guenever.  Then  said 
King  Arthur  to  Sir  Gawain,  "I  pray  you  make  you 
ready,  in  your  best  armor,  with  your  brethren,  Sir 
Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth,  to  bring  my  queen  to  the  fire, 
there  to  receive  her  death."  "Nay,  my  most  noble  lord," 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "that  will  I  never  do;  for  know  thou 
well,  my  heart  will  never  serve  me  to  see  her  die,  and 
it  shall  never  be  said  that  I  was  of  your  counsel  in  her 
death."  Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir 
Gareth  to  be  there,  and  they  said,  "We  will  be  there,  as 
ye  command  us,  sire,  but  in  peaceable  wise,  and  bear  no 
armor  upon  us." 

So  the  queen  was  led  forth,  and  her  ghostly  father 
was  brought  to  her  to  shrive  her,  and  there  was  weep- 
ing and  wailing  of  many  lords  and  ladies.  And  one 
went  and  told  Sir  Launcelot  that  the  queen  was  led 
forth  to  her  death.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  the  knights 
that  were  with  him  fell  upon  the  troop  that  guarded  the 
queen,  and  dispersed  them,  and  slew  all  who  withstood 
them.  And  in  the  confusion  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris 
were  slain,  for  they  were  unarmed  and  defenceless.  And 
Sir  Launcelot  carried  away  the  queen  to  his  castle  of  La 
Joyeuse  Garde. 

Then  there  came  one  to  Sir  Gawain  and  told  him  how 
that  Sir  Launcelot  had  slain  the  knights  and  carried 
away  the  queen.  "O  Lord,  defend  my  brethren !"  said 
Sir  Gawain.  "Truly,"  said  the  man,  "Sir  Gareth  and  Sir 
Gaheris  are  slain,"  "Alas !"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "now  is 
my  joy  gone."  And  then  he  fell  down  and  swooned, 
and  long  he  lay  there  as  he  had  been  dead. 

When  he  arose  out  of  his  swoon  Sir  Gawain  ran  to 
the  king,  crying,  "O  King  Arthur,  mine  uncle,  my  broth- 
ers are  slain."  Then  the  king  wept  and  he  both.  "My 
king,  my  lord,  and  mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "bear 
witness  now  that  I  make  you  a  promise  that  I  shall  hold 
by  my  knighthood,  and  from  this  day  I  will  never  fail 
Sir  Launcelot  until  the  one  of  us  have  slain  the  other. 
I  will  seek  Sir  Launcelot  throughout  seven  kings*  realms, 
but  I  shall  slay  him  or  he  shall  slay  me."  "Ye  shall  not 
need  to  seek  him,"  said  the  king,  "for  as  I  hear,  Sir 


510      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Launcelot  will  abide  me  and  you  in  the  Joyeuse  Garde ; 
and  much  people  draweth  unto  him,  as  I  hear  say." 
"That  rnay  I  believe,"  said  Sir  Gawain;  "but,  my  lord, 
summon  your  friends,  and  I  will  summon  mine."  "It 
shall  be  done,"  said  the  king.  So  then  the  king  sent 
letters  and  writs  throughout  all  England,  both  in  the 
length  and  breadth,  to  summon  all  his  knights.  And  unto 
Arthur  drew  many  knights,  dukes,  and  earls,  so  that 
he  had  a  great  host.  Thereof  heard  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
collected  all  whom  he  could ;  and  many  good  knights  held 
with  him,  both  for  his  sake  and  for  the  queen's  sake. 
But  King  Arthur's  host  was  too  great  for  Sir  Launcelot 
to  abide  him  in  the  field ;  and  he  was  full  loath  to  do 
battle  against  the  king.  So  Sir  Launcelot  drew  him  to 
his  strong  castle,  with  all  manner  of  provisions.  Then 
came  King  Arthur  with  Sir  Gawain,  and  laid  siege  all 
about  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  both  the  town  and  the  castle ; 
but  in  no  wise  would  Sir  Launcelot  ride  out  of  his  castle, 
neither  suffer  any  of  his  knights  to  issue  out,  until  many 
weeks  were  past. 

Then  it  befell  upon  a  day  in  harvest-time,  Sir  Launce- 
lot looked  over  the  wall,  and  spoke  aloud  to  King  Arthur 
and  Sir  Gawain,  "My  lords  both,  all  is  in  vain  that  ye 
do  at  this  siege,  for  here  ye  shall  win  no  worship,  but 
only  dishonor;  for  if  I  list  to  come  out,  and  my  good 
knights,  I  shall  soon  make  an  end  of  this  war."  "Come 
forth,"  said  Arthur,  "if  thou  darest,  and  I  promise  thee 
I  shall  meet  thee  in  the  midst  of  the  field."  "God  forbid 
me,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "that  I  should  encounter  with 
the  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight."  "Fie  upon 
thy  fair  language,"  said  the  king,  "for  know  thou  well 
I  am  thy  mortal  foe,  and  ever  will  be  to  my  dying  day." 
And  Sir  Gawain  said,  "What  cause  hadst  thou  to  slay 
my  brother,  Sir  Gaheris,  who  bore  no  arms  against  thee, 
and  Sir  Gareth,  whom  thou  madest  knight,  and  who 
loved  tftee  more  than  all  my  kin  ?  Therefore  know  thou 
well  I  shall  make  war  to  thee  all  the  while  that  I  may 
live." 

When  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir 
Lionel  heard  this  outcry,  they  called  to  them  Sir  Pala- 
medes,  and  Sir  Saffire  his  brother,  and  Sir  Lawayn,  with 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON  511 

many  more,  and  all  went  to  Sir  Launcelot.  And  they 
said,  "My  lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  we  pray  you,  if  you  will 
have  our  service  keep  us  no  longer  within  these  walls, 
for  know  well  all  your  fair  speech  and  forbearance  will 
not  avail  you."  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "to  ride 
forth  and  to  do  battle  I  am  full  loath/'  Then  he  spake 
again  unto  the  king  and  Sir  Gawain,  and  willed  them  to 
keep  out  of  the  battle ;  but  they  despised  his  words.  So 
then  Sir  Launcelot's  fellowship  came  out  of  the  castle  in 
full  good  array.  And  always  Sir  Launcelot  charged  all 
his  knights,  in  any  wise,  to  save  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Gawain. 

Then  came  forth  Sir  Gawain  from  the  king's  host 
and  offered  combat,  and  Sir  Lionel  encountered  with 
him,  and  there  Sir  Gawain  smote  Sir  Lionel  through  the 
body,  that  he  fell  to  the  earth  as  if  dead.  Then  there 
began  a  great  conflict,  and  much  people  were  slain;  but 
ever  Sir  Launcelot  did  what  he  might  to  save  the  people 
on  King  Arthur's  party,  and  ever  King  Arthur  followed 
Sir  Launcelot  to  slay  him;  but  Sir  Launcelot  suffered 
him,  and  would  not  strike  again.  Then  Sir  Bohort  en- 
countered with  King  Arthur,  and  smote  him  down ;  and 
he  alighted  and  drew  his  sword,  and  said  to  Sir  Launce- 
lot, "Shall  I  make  an  end  of  this  war?"  for  he  meant 
to  have  slain  King  Arthur.  "Not  so,"  said  Sir  Launce- 
lot, "touch  him  no  more,  for  I  will  never  see  that  most 
noble  king  that  made  me  knight  either  slain  or  shamed ;" 
and  therewith  Sir  Launcelot  alighted  off  his  horse,  and 
took  up  the  king,  and  horsed  him  again,  and  said  thus: 
"My  lord  Arthur,  for  God's  love,  cease  this  strife."  And 
King  Arthur  looked  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  tears 
burst  from  his  eyes,  thinking  on  the  great  courtesy  that 
was  in  Sir  Launcelot  more  than  in  any  other  man;  and 
therewith  the  king  rode  his  way.  Then  anon  both  parties 
withdrew  to  repose  them,  and  buried  the  dead. 

But  the  war  continued,  and  it  was  noised  abroad 
through  all  Christendom,  and  at  last  it  was  told  afore 
the  pope ;  and  he,  considering  the  great  goodness  of  King 
Arthur,  and  of  Sir  Launcelot,  called  unto  him  a  noble 
clerk,  which  was  the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  who  was  then 
in  his  dominions,  and  sent  him  to  King  Arthur,  charging 


512      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

him  that  he  take  his  queen,  dame  Guenever,  unto  him 
again,  and  make  peace  with  Sir  Launcelot. 

So,  by  means  of  this  bishop,  peace  was  made  for  the 
space  of  one  year;  and  King*  Arthur  received  back  the 
queen,  and  Sir  Launcelot  departed  from  the  kingdom 
with  all  his  knights,  and  went  to  his  own  country.  So 
they  shipped  at  Cardiff,  and  sailed  unto  Benwick,  which 
some  men  call  Bayonne.  And  all  the  people  of  those 
lands  came  to  Sir  Launcelot,  and  received  him  home 
right  joyfully.  And  Sir  Launcelot  stablished  and  gar- 
nished all  his  towns  and  castles,  and  he  greatly  advanced 
all  his  noble  knights,  Sir  Lionel  and  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir 
Hector  de  Marys,  Sir  Blamor,  Sir  Lawayne,  and  many 
others,  and  made  them  lords  of  lands  and  castles;  till 
he  left  himself  no  more  than  any  one  of  them. 

"Then  Arthur  made  vast  banquets,  and  strange  knights 
From  the  four  winds  came  in :  and  each  one  sat, 
Tho'  served  with  choice  from  air,  land,  stream  and  sea, 
Oft  in  mid-banquet  measuring  with  his  eyes 
His  neighbor's  make  and  might." 

—Pelleas  and  Ettarre. 

But  when  the  year  was  passed,  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Gawain  came  with  a  great  host,  and  landed  upon  Sir 
Launcelot's  lands,  and  burned  and  wasted  all  that  they 
might  overrun.  Then  spake  Sir  Bohort  and  said,  "My 
lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  give  us  leave  to  meet  them  in  the 
field,  and  we  shall  make  them  rue  the  time  that  ever 
they  came  to  this  country."  Then  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
"I  am  full  loath  to  ride  out  with  my  knights  for  shed- 
ding of  Christian  blood;  so  we  will  yet  a  while  keep 
our  walls,  and  I  will  send  a  messenger  unto  my  lord 
Arthur,  to  propose  a  treaty;  for  better  is  peace  than 
always  war."  So  Sir  Launcelot  sent  forth  a  damsel, 
and  a  dwarf  with  her,  requiring  King  Arthur  to  leave 
his  warring  upon  his  lands;  and  so  she  started  on  a 
palfrey,  and  the  dwarf  ran  by  her  side.  And  when  she 
came  to  the  pavilion  of  King  Arthur,  she  alighted,  and 
there  met  her  a  gentle  knight,  Sir  Lucan,  the  butler, 
and  said,  "Fair  damsel,  come  ye  from  Sir  Launcelot  du 
Lac?"  "Yea,  sir,"  she  said,  "I  come  hither  to  speak 


SIR  AGRIVAIN'S  TREASON  513 

with  the  king/'  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Lucan,  "my  lord 
Arthur  would  be  reconciled  to  Sir  Launcelot,  but  Sir 
Gawain  will  not  suffer  him."  And  with  this  Sir  Lucan 
led  the  damsel  to  the  king,  where  he  sat  with  Sir  Gawain, 
to  hear  what  she  would  say.  So  when  she  had  told 
her  tale,  the  tears  ran  out  of  the  king's  eyes ;  and  all  the 
lords  were  forward  to  advise  the  king  to  be  accorded 
with  Sir  Launcelot,  save  only  Sir  Gawain ;  and  he  said, 
"My  lord,  mine  uncle,  what  will  ye  do?  Will  you  now 
turn  back,  now  you  are  so  far  advanced  upon  your  jour- 
ney? If  ye  do  all  the  world  will  speak  shame  of  you." 
"Nay,"  said  K'ng  Arthur,  "I  will  do  as  ye  advise  me; 
but  do  thou  give  the  damsel  her  answer,  for  I  may  not 
speak  to  her  for  pity." 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  "Damsel,  say  ye  to  Sir  Launce- 
lot, that  it  is  waste  labor  to  sue  to  mine  uncle  for  peacef 
and  say  that  I,  Sir  Gawain,  send  him  word  that  I  prom- 
ise him,  by  the  faith  I  owe  unto  God  and  to  knight- 
hood, I  shall  never  leave  him  till  he  have  slain  me 
or  I  him."  So  the  damsel  returned;  and  when  Sir 
Launcelot  had  heard  this  answer  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks. 

Then  it  befell  on  a  day  Sir  Gawain  came  before  the 
gates,  armed  at  all  points,  and  cried  with  a  loud  voice, 
"Where  art  thou  now,  thou  false  traitor,  Sir  Launcelot? 
Why  hidest  thou  thyself  within  holes  and  walls  like  a 
coward?  Look  out  now,  thou  traitor  knight,  and  I  will 
avenge  upon  thy  body  the  death  of  my  three  brethren." 
All  this  language  heard  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  knights 
which  were  about  him;  and  they  said  to  him,  "Sir 
Launcelot,  now  must  ye  defend  you  like  a  knight,  or  else 
be  shamed  for  ever,  for  you  have  slept  overlong  and 
suffered  overmuch."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  spake  on  high 
unto  King  Arthur,  and  said,  "My  lord  Arthur,  now  I 
have  forborne  long,  and  suffered  you  and  Sir  Gawain 
to  do  what  ye  would,  and  now  must  I  needs  defend  my- 
self, inasmuch  as  Sir  Gawain  hath  appealed  me  of  trea- 
son." Then  Sir  Launcelot  armed  him  and  mounted  upon 
his  horse,  and  the  noble  knights  came  out  of  the  city, 
and  the  host  without  stood  all  apart;  and  so  the  cove- 
nant was  made  that  no  man  should  come  near  the  two 


514      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

knights,  nor  deal  with  them,  till  one  were  dead  or 
yielded. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Gawain  departed  a  great 
way  asunder,  and  then  they  came  together  with  all  their 
horses'  might,  and  each  smote  the  other  in  the  middle  of 
their  shields,  but  neither  of  them  was  unhorsed,  but 
their  horses  fell  to  the  earth.  And  then  they  leapt  from 
their  horses,  and  drew  their  swords,  and  gave  many 
sad  strokes,  so  that  the  blood  burst  out  in  many  places. 
Now  Sir  Gawain  had  this  gift  from  a  holy  man,  that 
every  day  in  the  year,  from  morning  to  noon,  his 
strength  was  increased  threefold,  and  then  it  fell  again 
to  its  natural  measure.  Sir  Launcelot  was  aware  of 
this,  and  therefore,  during  the  three  hours  that  Sir 
Gawain's  strength  was  at  the  height,  Sir  Launcelot  cov- 
ered himself  with  his  shield,  and  kept  his  might  in  re- 
serve. And  during  that  time  Sir  Gawain  gave  him  many 
sad  brunts,  that  all  the  knights  that  looked  on  marvelled 
how  Sir  Launcelot  might  endure  them.  Then,  when  it 
was  past  noon,  Sir  Gawain  had  only  his  own  might; 
and  when  Sir  Launcelot  felt  him  so  brought  down  he 
stretched  himself  up,  and  doubled  his  strokes,  and  gave 
Sir  Gawain  such  a  buffet  that  he  fell  down  on  his  side; 
and  Sir 'Launcelot  drew  back  and  would  strike  no  more. 
"Why  withdrawest  thou,  false  traitor?"  then  said  Sir 
Gawain ;  "now  turn  again  and  slay  me,  for  if  thou  leave 
me  thus  when  I  am  whole  again,  1  shall  do  battle  with 
thee  again."  "I  shall  endure  you,  sir,  by  God's  grace," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "but  know  thou  well  Sir  Gawain, 
I  will  never  smite  a  felled  knight."  And  so  Sir  Launce- 
lot went  into  the  city,  and  Sir  Gawain  was  borne  into 
King  Arthur's  pavilion,  and  his  wounds  were  looked  to. 

Thus  the  siege  endured,  and  Sir  Gawain  lay  helpless 
near  a  month;  and  when  he  was  near  recovered  came 
tidings  unto  King  Arthur  that  made  him  return  with  all 
his  host  to  England. 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR  515 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

MORTE    D' ARTHUR 

SIR  MODRED  was  left  ruler  of  all  England,  and  he 
caused  letters  to  be  written,  as  if  from  beyond  sea, 
that  King  Arthur  was  slain  in  battle.  So  he  called  a 
Parliament,  and  made  himself  be  crowned  king;  and 
he  took  the  queen  Guenever,  and  said  plainly  that  he 
would  wed  her,  but  she  escaped  from  him  and  took 
refuge  in  the  Tower  of  London.  And  Sir  Modred 
went  and  laid  siege  about  the  Tower  of  London,  and 
made  great  assaults  thereat,  but  all  might  not  avail  him. 
Then  came  word  to  Sir  Modred  that  King  Arthur  had 
raised  the  siege  of  Sir  Launcelot,  and  was  coming  home. 
Then  Sir  Modred  summoned  all  the  barony  of  the  land  ; 
and  much  people  drew  unto  Sir  Modred,  and  said  they 
would  abide  with  him  for  better  and  for  worse ;  and  he 
drew  a  great  host  to  Dover,  for  there  he  heard  say  that 
King  Arthur  would  arrive. 

"I  hear  the  steps  of  Modred  in  the  west, 
And  with  him  many  of  thy  people,  and  knights 
Once  thine,  whom  thou  hast  loved,  but  grosser  grown 
Than  heathen,  spitting  at  their  vows  and  thee." 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

And  as  Sir  Modred  was  at  Dover  with  his  host,  came 
King  Arthur,  with  a  great  number  of  ships  and  galleys, 
and  there  was  Sir  Modred  awaiting  upon  the  landing. 
Then  was  there  launching  of  great  boats  and  small,  full 
of  noble  men  of  arms,  and  there  was  much  slaughter 
of  gentle  knights  on  both  parts.  But  King  Arthur  was 
so  courageous,  there  might  no  manner  of  knights  pre- 
vent him  to  land,  and  his  knights  fiercely  followed  him; 
and  so  they  landed,  and  put  Sir  Modred  aback  so  that 
he  fled,  and  all  his  people.  And  when  the  battle  was 
done,  King  Arthur  commanded  to  bury  his  people  that 
were  dead.  And  then  was  noble  Sir  Gawain  found,  in 
a  great  boat,  lying  more  than  half  dead  And  King 


516      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Arthur  went  to  him,  and  made  sorrow  out  of  measure. 
"Mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "know  thou  well  my 
death-day  is  come,  and  all  is  through  mine  own  hasti- 
ness and  wilfulness,  for  I  am  smitten  upon  the  old 
wound  which  Sir  Launcelot  gave  me,  of  which  I  feel  I 
must  die.  And  had  Sir  Launcelot  been  with  you  as  of 
old,  this  war  had  never  begun,  and  of  all  this  I  am  the 
cause."  Then  Sir  Gawain  prayed  the  king  to  send  for 
Sir  Launcelot,  and  to  cherish  him  above  all  other 
knights.  And  so  at  the  hour  of  noon  Sir  Gawain  yielded 
up  his  spirit,  and  then  the  king  bade  inter  him  in  a 
chapel  within  Dover  Castle;  and  there  all  men  may  see 
the  skull  of  him,  and  the  same  wound  is  seen  that  Sir 
Launcelot  gave  him  in  battle. 

Then  was  it  told  the  king  that  Sir  Modred  had  pitched 
his  camp  upon  Barrendown ;  and  the  king  rode  thither, 
and  there  was  a  great  battle  betwixt  them,  and  King 
Arthur's  party  stood  best,  and  Sir  Modred  and  his  party 
fled  unto  Canterbury. 

And  there  was  a  day  assigned  betwixt  King  Arthur 
and  Sir  Modred  that  they  should  meet  upon  a  down 
beside  Salisbury,  and  not  far  from  the  sea-side,  to  do 
battle  yet  again.  And  at  night,  as  the  king  slept,  he 
dreamed  a  wonderful  dream.  It  seemed  him  verily 
that  there  came  Sir  Gawain  unto  him,  with  a  number 
of  fair  ladies  with  him.  And  when  King  Arthur  saw 
him,  he  said,  "Welcome,  my  sister's  son;  I  weened  thou 
hadst  been  dead;  and  now  I  see  thee  alive  great  is  my 
joy.  But,  O  fair  nephew,  what  be  these  ladies  that 
hither  be  come  with  you?"  "Sir,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "all 
these  be  ladies  for  whom  I  have  fought  when  I  was  a 
living  man;  and  because  I  did  battle  for  them  in 
righteous  quarrel  they  have  given  me  grace  to  bring  me 
hither  unto  you  to  warn  you  of  your  death,  if  ye  fight 
to-morrow  with  Sir  Modred.  Therefore  take  ye  treaty, 
and  proffer  you  largely  for  a  month's  delay ;  for  within 
a  month  shall  come  Sir  Launcelot  and  all  his  noble 
knights,  and  rescue  you  worshipfully,  and  slay  Sir  Mo- 
dred and  all  that  hold  with  him."  And  then  Sir  Gawain 
and  all  the  ladies  vanished.  And  anon  the  king  called 
to  fetch  his  noble  lords  and  wise  bishops  unto  him. 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR  517 

And  when  they  were  come,  the  king  told  them  his  vision, 
and  what  Sir  Gawain  had  told  him.  Then  the  king 
sent  Sir  Lucan,  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedivere,  with  two 
bishops,  and  charged  them  in  any  wise  to  take  a  treaty 
for  a  month  and  a  day  with  Sir  Modred.  So  they  de- 
parted, and  came  to  Sir  Modred ;  and  so,  at  the  last,  Sir 
Modred  was  agreed  to  have  Cornwall  and  Kent  during 
Arthur's  life,  and  all  England  after  his  death. 

"Sir  Modred ;  he  the  nearest  to  the  king, 
His  nephew,  ever  like  a  subtle  beast 
Lay  couchant  with  his  eyes  upon  the  throne, 
Ready  to  spring,  waiting  a  chance." 

— Guinevere. 

Then  was  it  agreed  that  King  Arthur  and  Sir  Modred 
should  meet  betwixt  both  their  hosts,  and  each  of  them 
should  bring  fourteen  persons,  and  then  and  there  they 
should  sign  the  treaty.  And  when  King  Arthur  and  his 
knights  were  prepared  to  go  forth,  he  warned  all  his 
host,  "If  so  be  ye  see  any  sword  drawn,  look  ye  come  on 
fiercely,  and  slay  whomsoever  withstandeth,  for  I  in  no 
wise  trust  that  traitor,  Sir  Modred."  In  like  wise  Sir 
Modred  warned  his  host.  So  they  met,  and  were  agreed 
and  accorded  thoroughly.  And  wine  was  brought,  and 
they  drank.  Right  then  came  an  adder  out  of  a  little 
heath-bush,  and  stung  a  knight  on  the  foot.  And  when 
the  knight  felt  him  sting,  he  looked  down  and  saw  the 
adder,  and  then  he  drew  his  sword  to  slay  the  adder, 
and  thought  of  no  other  harm.  And  when  the  host  on 
both  sides  saw  that  sword  drawn,  they  blew  trumpets 
and  horns,  and  shouted  greatly.  And  King  Arthur  took 
his  horse,  and  rode  to  his  party,  saying,  "Alas,  this  un- 
happy day!1'  And  Sir  Modred  did  in  like  wise.  And 
never  was  there  a  more  doleful  battle  in  Christian  land. 
And  ever  King  Arthur  rode  throughout  the  battle,  and 
did  full  nobly,  as  a  worthy  king  should,  and  Sir  Modred 
that  day  did  his  devoir,  and  put  himself  in  great  peril. 
And  thus  they  fought  all  the  long  day,  till  the  most  of 
all  the  noble  knights  lay  dead  upon  the  ground.  Then 
the  king  looked  about  him,  and  saw  of  all  his  host  were 
left  alive  but  two  knights,  Sir  Lucan,  the  butler,  and  Sir 


518      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Bedivere,  his  brother,  and  they  were  full  sore  wounded. 
Then  King  Arthur  saw  where  Sir  Modred  leaned 
upon  his  sword  among  a  great  heap  of  dead  men. 
"Now  give  me  my  spear,"  said  Arthur  unto  Sir  Lucan; 
"for  yonder  I  espy  the  traitor  that  hast  wrought  all 
this  woe."  "Sir,  let  him  be,"  said  Sir  Lucan;  "for 
if  ye  pass  this  unhappy  day,  ye  shall  be  right  well 
revenged  upon  him.  Remember  what  the  sprite  of  Sir 
Gawain  told  you,  and  leave  off  now,  for  ye  have  won 
the  field;  and  if  ye  leave  off  now  this  evil  day  of  destiny 
is  past."  "Betide  me  life,  betide  me  death,"  said  King 
Arthur,  "he  shall  not  now  escape  my  hands."  Then  the 
king  took  his  spear  in  both  hands,  and  ran  toward  Sir 
Modred,  crying,  "Traitor,  now  is  thy  death-day  come." 
And  there  King  Arthur  smote  Sir  Modred  under  the 
shield,  with  a  thrust  of  his  spear  through  the  body.  And 
when  Sir  Modred  felt  that  he  had  his  death-wound,  with 
the  might  that  he  had  he  smote  King  Arthur,  with  his 
sword  holden  in  both  his  hands,  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
that  the  sword  pierced  the  helmet  and  the  brain-pan; 
and  then  Sir  Modred  fell  stark  dead  upon  the  earth. 
And  the  noble  Arthur  fell  in  a  swoon  to  the  earth. 
And  Sir  Lucan,  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedivere  raised  him 
up,  and  gently  led  him  betwixt  them  both  to  a  little 
chapel  not  far  from  the  sea-side.  And  when  the  king 
was  there  he  thought  him  well  eased.  Then  heard  they 
people  cry  in  the  field.  And  Sir  Lucan  went  to  see 
what  that  cry  betokened;  and  he  saw  by  the  moonlight 
that  pillers  and  robbers  were  come  to  rob  the  dead. 
And  he  returned,  and  said  to  the  king,  "By  my  rede, 
it  is  best  that  we  bring  you  to  some  town."  "I  would 
it  were  so,"  said  the  king.  And  when  the  king  tried  to 
go  he  fainted.  Then  Sir  Lucan  took  up  the  king  on 
the  one  part,  and  Sir  Bedivere  on  the  other  part;  and 
in  the  lifting,  Sir  Lucan  fell  in  a  swoon  to  the  earth,  for 
he  was  grievously  wounded.  And  then  the  noble  knight's 
heart  burst.  And  when  the  king  awoke  he  beheld  Sir 
Lucan  how  he  lay  foaming  at  the  mouth,  and  speech- 
less. "Alas!"  said  the  king,  "this  is  to  me  a  full  heavy 
sight,  to  see  this  noble  duke  so  die  for  my  sake;  for 
he  would  have  holpen  me  that  had  more  need  of  help 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR  519 

than  I,  and  he  would  not  complain,  his  heart  was  so 
set  to  help  me."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  wept  for  his 
brother.  "Leave  this  mourning-  and  weeping,"  said  the 
king,  "for  wilt  thou  well,  if  I  might  live  myself,  the 
death  of  Sir  Lucan  would  grieve  me  evermore;  but 
my  time  hieth  fast.  Therefore/'  said  Arthur  unto  Sir 
Bedivere,  "take  thou  Excalibar,  my  good  sword,  and 
go  with  it  to  yonder  water-side;  and  when  thou  comest 
there  I  charge  thee  throw  my  sword  in  that  water,  and 
come  again  and  tell  me  what  thou  there  seest."  "My 
lord,"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "your  commandment  shall  be 
done."  So  Sir  Bedivere  departed,  and  by  the  way  he 
beheld  that  noble  sword,  that  the  pommel  and  the  haft 
were  all  of  precious  stones ;  and  then  he  said  to  himself, 
"If  I  throw  this  rich  sword  into  the  water  no  good  shall 
come  thereof,  but  only  harm  and  loss."  And  then  Sir 
Bedivere  hid  Excalibar  under  a  tree.  And  so,  as  soon 
as  he  might,  he  came  again  to  the  king.  "What  sawest 
thou  there?"  said  the  king.  "Sir,"  he  said,  "I  saw  noth- 
ing." "Alas!  thou  hast  deceived  me,"  said  the  king. 
"Go  thou  lightly  again,  and  as  thou  love  me,  spare  not 
to  throw  it  in."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  went  again,  and 
took  the  sword  in  his  hand  to  throw  it ;  but  again  it  be- 
seemed him  but  sin  and  shame  to  throw  away  that  noble 
sword,  and  he  hid  it  away  again,  and  returned,  and  told 
the  king  he  had  done  his  commandment.  "What  sawest 
thou  there?"  said  the  king.  "Sir,"  he  said,  "I  saw  noth- 
ing but  waters  deep  and  waves  wan."  "Ah,  traitor  un- 
true!" said  King  Arthur,  "now  hast  thou  betrayed  me 
twice.  And  yet  thou  art  named  a  noble  knight,  and  hast 
been  lief  and  dear  to  me.  But  now  go  again,  and  do  as 
I  bid  thee,  for  thy  long  tarrying  putteth  me  in  jeopardy 
of  my  life."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  went  to  the  sword, 
and  lightly  took  it  up,  and  went  to  the  water-side,  and 
he  bound  the  girdle  about  the  hilt,  and  then  he  threw 
the  sword  as  far  into  the  water  as  he  might.  And  there 
came  an  arm  and  a  hand  out  of  the  water,  and  met  it, 
and  caught  it,  and  shook  it  thrice  and  brandished  it, 
and  then  vanished  away  the  hand  with  the  sword  in  the 
water. 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  came  again  to  the  king,  and  told 


520      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

him  what  he  saw.  "Help  me  hence,"  said  the  king, 
"for  I  fear  I  have  tarried  too  long."  Then  Sir  Bedivere 
took  the  king  on  his  back,  and  so  went  with  him  to 
that  water-side;  and  when  they  came  there,  even  fast 
by  the  bank  there  rode  a  little  barge  with  many  fair 
ladies  in  it,  and  among  them  was  a  queen;  and  all  had 
black  hoods,  and  they  wept  and  shrieked  when  they 
saw  King  Arthur. 

"Now  put  me  in  the  barge,"  said  the  king.  And  there 
received  him  three  queens  with  great  mourning,  and  in 
one  of  their  laps  King  Arthur  laid  his  head.  And  the 
queen  said,  "Ah,  dear  brother,  why  have  ye  tarried  so 
long  ?  Alas !  this  wound  on  your  head  hath  caught  over- 
much cold."  And  then  they  rowed  from  the  land,  and 
Sir  Bedivere  beheld  them  go  from  him.  Then  he  cried : 
"Ah,  my  lord  Arthur,  will  ye  leave  me  here  alone  among 
mine  enemies?"  "Comfort  thyself,"  said  the  king,  "for 
in  me  is  no  further  help ;  for  I  will  to  the  Isle  of  Avalon, 
to  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound."  And  as  soon  as 
Sir  Bedivere  had  lost  sight  of  the  barge,  he  wept  and 
wailed ;  then  he  took  the  forest,  and  went  all  that  night, 
and  in  the  morning  he  was  ware  of  a  chapel  and  a 
hermitage. 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  thither;  and  when  he  came 
into  the  chapel,  he  saw  where  lay  an  hermit  on  the 
ground,  near  a  tomb  that  was  newly  graven.  "Sir," 
said  Sir  Bedivere,  "what  man  is  there  buried  that  ye 
pray  so  near  unto?"  "Fair  son,"  said  the  hermit,  "I 
know  not  verily.  But  this  night  there  came  a  number 
of  ladies,  and  brought  hither  one  dead,  and  prayed  me 
to  bury  him."  "Alas !"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "that  was 
my  lord,  King  Arthur."  Then  Sir  Bedivere  swooned; 
and  when  he  awoke  he  prayed  the  hermit  he  might  abide 
with  him,  to  live  with  fasting  and  prayers.  "Ye  are 
welcome,"  said  the  hermit.  So  there  bode  Sir  Bedivere 
with  the  hermit ;  and  he  put  on  poor  clothes,  and  served 
the  hermit  full  lowly  in  fasting  and  in  prayers. 

Thus  of  Arthur  I  find  never  more  written  in  books 
that  be  authorized,  nor  more  of  the  very  certainty  of  his 
death ;  but  thus  was  he  led  away  in  a  ship,  wherein  were 
three  queens;  the  one  was  King  Arthur's  sister,  Queer 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR  521 

Morgane  le  Fay ;  the  other  was  Viviane,  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake;  and  the  third  was  the  queen  of  North  Galis. 
And  this  tale  Sir  Bedivere,  knight  of  the  Table  Round, 
made  to  be  written. 

Yet  some  men  say  that  King  Arthur  is  not  dead, 
but  hid  away  into  another  place,  and  men  say  that  he 
shall  come  again  and  reign  over  England.  But  many  say 
that  there  is  written  on  his  tomb  this  verse: 

"Hie  jacet  Arthurus,  Rex  quondam,  Rexque  futurus." 
Here  Arthur  lies,  King  once  and  King  to  be. 

And  when  Queen  Guenever  understood  that  King 
Arthur  was  slain,  and  all  the  noble  knights  with  him,  she 
stole  away,  and  five  ladies  with  her;  and  so  she  went 
to  Almesbury,  and  made  herself  a  nun,  and  ware  white 
clothes  and  black,  and  took  great  penance  as  ever  did 
sinful  lady,  and  lived  in  fasting,  prayers,  and  alms-deeds. 
And  there  she  was  abbess  and  ruler  of  the  nuns. 

"And  when  she  came  to  Almesbury  she  spake 
There  to  the  nuns,  and  said,  'Mine  enemies 
Pursue  me,  but,  O  peaceful  Sisterhood, 
Receive,  and  yield  me  sanctuary,  nor  ask 
Her  name  to  whom  ye  yield  it,  till  her  time 
To  tell  you :'  and  her  beauty,  grace  and  power 
Wrought  as  a  charm  upon  them,  and  they  spared 
To  ask  it." 

— Guinevere. 

Now  turn  we  from  her,  and  speak  of  Sir  Launcelot  of 
the  Lake. 

When  Sir  Launcelot  heard  in  his  country  that  Sir 
Modred  was  crowned  king  of  England,  and  made  war 
against  his  own  uncle,  King  Arthur,  then  was  Sir 
Launcelot  wroth  out  of  measure,  and  said  to  his  kinsmen : 
"Alas,  that  double  traitor,  Sir  Modred!  now  it  repenteth 
me  that  ever  he  escaped  out  of  my  hands."  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  and  his  fellows  made  ready  in  all  haste,  with 
ships  and  galleys,  to  pass  into  England ;  and  so  he  passed 
over  till  he  came  to  Dover,  and  there  he  landed  with  a 
great  army.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  was  told  that  King  Ar- 
thur was  slain.  "Alas !"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "this  is  the 


522      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

heaviest  tidings  that  ever  came  to  me."  Then  he  called 
the  kings,  dukes,  barons,  and  knights,  and  said  thus: 
"My  fair  lords,  I  thank  you  all  for  coming  into  this  coun- 
try with  me,  but  we  came  too  late,  and  that  shall  repent 
me  while  I  live.  But  since  it  is  so/'  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
"I  will  myself  ride  and  seek  my  lady,  Queen  Guenever, 
for  I  have  heard  say  she  hath  fled  into  the  west;  there- 
fore ye  shall  abide  me  here  fifteen  days,  and  if  I  come 
not  within  that  time,  then  take  your  ships  and  your  host, 
and  depart  into  your  country." 

So  Sir  Launcelot  departed  and  rode  westerly,  and  there 
he  sought  many  days ;  and  at  last  he  came  to  a  nunnery, 
and  was  seen  of  Queen  Guenever  as  he  walked  in  the 
cloister;  and  when  she  saw  him  she  swooned  away.  And 
when  she  might  speak  she  bade  him  to  be  called  to  her. 
And  when  Sir  Launcelot  was  brought  to  her  she  said: 
"Sir  Launcelot,  I  require  thee  and  beseech  thee,  for  all 
the  love  that  ever  was  betwixt  us,  that  thou  never  see  me 
more,  but  return  to  thy  kingdom  and  take  thee  a  wife, 
and  live  with  her  with  joy  and  bliss ;  and  pray  for  me 
to  my  Lord,  that  I  may  get  my  soul's  health."  "Nay, 
madam,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "wit  you  well  that  I  shall 
never  do ;  but  the  same  destiny  that  ye  have  taken  you  to 
will  I  take  me  unto,  for  to  please  and  serve  God."  And 
so  they  parted,  with  tears  and  much  lamentation;  and 
the  ladies  bare  the  queen  to  her  chamber,  and  Sir  Launce- 
lot took  his  horse  and  rode  away,  weeping. 

And  at  last  Sir  Launcelot  was  ware  of  a  hermitage 
and  a  chapel,  and  then  he  heard  a  little  bell  ring  to  mass ; 
and  thither  he  rode  and  alighted,  and  tied  his  horse  to 
the  gate,  and  heard  mass.  And  he  that  sang  the  mass 
was  the  hermit  with  whom  Sir  Bedivere  had  taken  up 
his  abode;  and  Sir  Bedivere  knew  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
they  spake  together  after  mass.  But  when  Sir  Bedivere 
had  told  his  tale,  Sir  Launcelot's  heart  almost  burst  for 
sorrow.  Then  he  kneeled  down,  and  prayed  the  hermit 
to  shrive  him,  and  besought  that  he  might  be  his  brother. 
Then  the  hermit  said,  "I  will  gladly;"  and  then  he  put  a 
habit  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  there  he  served  God 
day  and  night,  with  prayers  and  fastings. 

And  the  great  host  abode  at  Dover  till  the  end  of  the 


MORTE  D'ARTHUR  523 

fifteen  days  set  by  Sir  Launcelot,  and  then  Sir  Bohort 
made  them  to  go  home  again  to  their  own  country ;  and 
Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  Sir  Blamor,  and  many 
others,  took  on  them  to  ride  through  all  England  to  seek 
Sir  Launcelot.  So  Sir  Bohort  by  fortune  rode  until  he 
came  to  the  same  chapel  where  Sir  Launcelot  was;  and 
when  he  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  th;:t  manner  of  clothing  he, 
prayed  the  hermit  that  he  might  be  in  that  same.  And  so 
there  was  an  habit  put  upon  him,  and  there  he  lived  in 
prayers  and  fasting.  And  within  half  a  year  came  others 
of  the  knights,  their  fellows,  and  took  such  a  habit  as 
Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Bohort  had.  Thus  they  endured 
in  great  penance  six  years. 

And  upon  a  night  there  came  a  vision  to  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  charged  him  to  haste  toward  Almesbury,  and  "by 
the  time  thou  come  there,  thou  shalt  find  Queen 
Guenever  dead."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  rose  up  early  and 
told  the  hermit  thereof.  Then  said  the  hermit,  "It  were 
well  that  ye  disobey  not  this  vision."  And  Sir  Launcelot 
took  his  seven  companions  with  him,  and  on  foot  they 
went  from  Glastonbury  to  Almesbury,  which  is  more 
than  thirty  miles.  And  when  they  were  come  to  Almes- 
bury, they  found  that  Queen  Guenever  died  but  half  an 
hour  before.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  her  visage,  but 
he  wept  not  greatly,  but  sighed.  And  so  he  did  all  the 
observance  of  the  service  himself,  both  the  "dirige"  at 
night,  and  at  morn  he  sang  mass.  And  there  was  pre- 
pared an  horse-bier,  and  Sir  Launcelot  and  his  fellows 
followed  the  bier  on  foot  from  Almesbury  until  they 
came  to  Glastonbury;  and  she  was  wrapped  in  cered 
clothes,  and  laid  in  a  coffin  of  marble.  And  when 
she  was  put  in  the  earth  Sir  Launcelot  swooned,  and  lay 
long  as  one  dead. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  never  after  ate  but  little  meat,  nor 
drank ;  but  continually  mourned.  And  within  six  weeks 
Sir  Launcelot  fell  sick;  and  he  sent  for  the  hermit  and 
all  his  true  fellows,  and  said,  "Sir  hermit,  I  pray  you 
give  me  all  my  rights  that  a  Christian  man  ought  to 
have.'*  "It  shall  not  need,"  said  the  hermit  and  all  his 
fellows;  "it  is  but  heaviness  of  your  blood,  and  to-mor- 
row morn  you  shall  be  well"  "My  fair  lords,"  said  Sir 


524      KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS 

Launcelot,  "my  careful  body  will  into  the  earth;  I  have 
warning  more  than  now  I  will  say ;  therefore  give  me  my 
rights."  So  when  he  was  houseled  and  aneled,  and  had 
all  that  a  Christian  man  ought  to  have,  he  prayed  the 
hermit  that  his  fellows  might  bear  his  body  to  Joyous 
Garde.  (Some  men  say  it  was  Alnwick,  and  some  say  it 
was  Bamborough.)  "It  repenteth  me  sore,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "but  I  made  a  vow  aforetime  that  in  Joyous 
Garde  I  would  be  buried."  Then  there  was  weeping  and 
wringing  of  hands  among  his  fellows.  And  that  night 
Sir  Launcelot  died ;  and  when  Sir  Bohort  and  his  fellows 
came  to  his  bedside  the  next  morning  they  found  him 
stark  dead;  and  he  lay  as  if  he  had  smiled,  and  the 
sweetest  savor  all  about  him  that  ever  they  knew. 

And  they  put  Sir  Launcelot  into  the  same  horse-bier 
that  Queen  Guenever  was  laid  in,  and  the  hermit  and 
they  altogether  went  with  the  body  till  they  came  to  Joy- 
ous Garde.  And  there  they  laid  his  corpse  in  the  body 
of  the  quire,  and  sang  and  read  many  psalms  and 
prayers  over  him.  And  ever  his  visage  was  laid  open  and 
naked,  that  all  folks  might  behold  him.  And  right  thus, 
as  they  were  at  their  service,  there  came  Sir  Hector  de 
Maris,  that  had  seven  years  sought  Sir  Launcelot,  his 
brother,  through  all  England,  Scotland  and  Wales.  And 
when  Sir  Hector  heard  such  sounds  in  the  chapel  of 
Joyous  Garde  he  alighted  and  came  into  the  quire.  And 
all  they  knew  Sir  Hector.  Then  went  Sir  Bohort,  and 
told  him  how  there  lay  Sir  Launcelot,  his  brother,  dead. 
Then  Sir  Hector  threw  his  shield,  his  sword,  and  helm 
from  him.  And  when  he  beheld  Sir  Launcelot's  visage 
it  were  hard  for  any  tongue  to  tell  the  doleful  com- 
plaints he  made  for  his  brother.  "Ah,  Sir  Launcelot !"  he 
said,  "there  thou  liest.  And  now  I  dare  to  say  thou  wert 
never  matched  of  none  earthly  knight's  hand.  And  thou 
wert  the  courteousest  knight  that  ever  bare  shield;  and 
thou  wert  the  truest  friend  to  thy  lover  that  ever  bestrode 
horse;  and  thou  wert  the  truest  lover,  of  a  sinful  man, 
that  ever  loved  woman;  and  thou  wert  the  kindest  man 
that  ever  struck  with  sword.  And  thou  wert  the  good- 
liest person  that  ever  came  among  press  of  knights.  And 
thou  wert  the  meekest  man,  and  the  gentlest,  that  ever 


MORTE  D'ARTHbR  525 

ate  in  hall  among  ladies.  And  thou  wert  the  sternest 
knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that  ever  put  spear  in  the  rest." 
Then  there  was  weeping  and  dolor  out  of  measure.  Thus 
they  kept  Sir  Launcelot's  corpse  fifteen  days,  and  then 
they  buried  it  with  great  devotion. 

Then  they  went  back  with  the  hermit  to  his  hermit- 
age. And  Sir  Bedivere  was  there  ever  still  hermit  to  his 
life's  end.  And  Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Kector,  Sir  Blamor,  and 
Sir  Bleoberis  went  into  the  Holy  Land.  And  these  four 
knights  did  many  battles  upon  the  miscreants,  the  Turks ; 
and  there  they  died  upon  a  Good  Friday,  as  it  pleased 
God. 

Thus  endeth  this  noble  and  joyous  book,  entitled  "La 
Morte  d' Arthur;"  notwithstanding  it  treateth  of  the 
birth,  life,  and  acts  of  the  said  King  Arthur,  and  of  his 
noble  Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  their  marvellous  en- 
quests  and  adventures,  the  achieving  of  the  Sangreal, 
and,  in  the  end,  le  Morte  d'Arthur,  with  the  dolorous 
death  and  departing  out  of  this  world  of  them  all.  Which 
book  was  reduced  into  English  by  Sir  Thomas  Mallory, 
Knight,  and  divided  into  twenty-one  books,  chaptered 
and  imprinted  and  finished  in  the  Abbey  Westmestre,  the 
last  day  of  July,  the  year  of  our  Lord  MCCCCLXXXV. 

Caxton  me  fieri  fecit. 


THE    MABINOGEON 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

IT  has  been  well  known  to  the  literati  and  antiquarians 
of  Europe  that  there  exist  in  the  great  public  libraries 
voluminous  manuscripts  of  romances  and  tales  once  pop- 
ular, but  which  on  the  invention  of  printing  had  already 
become  antiquated,  and  fallen  into  neglect.  They  were 
therefore  never  printed,  and  seldom  perused  even  by  the 
learned,  until  about  half  a  century  ago,  when  attention 
was  again  directed  to  them,  and  they  were  found  very 
curious  monuments  of  ancient  manners,  habits,  and 
modes  of  thinking.  Several  have  since  been  edited,  some 
by  individuals,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  the  poet  Southey, 
others  by  antiquarian  societies.  The  class  of  readers 
which  could  be  counted  on  for  such  publications  was  so 
small  that  no  inducement  of  profit  could  be  found  to 
tempt  editors  and  publishers  to  give  them  to  the  world. 
It  was  therefore  only  a  few,  and  those  the  most  accessi- 
ble, which  were  put  in  print.  There  was  a  class  of 
manuscripts  of  this  kind  which  were  known,  or  rather 
suspected,  to  be  both  curious  and  valuable,  but  which  it 
seemed  almost  hopeless  to  expect  ever  to  see  in  fair 
printed  English.  These  were  the  Welsh  popular  tales 
called  Mabinogeon,  a  plural  word,  the  singular  being  Ma- 
binogi,  a  tale.  Manuscripts  of  these  were  contained  in 
the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford  and  elsewhere,  but  the 
difficulty  was  to  find  translators  and  editors.  The  Welsh 
is  a  spoken  language  among  the  peasantry  of  Wales,  but 
is  entirely  neglected  by  the  learned,  unless  they  are  na- 
tives of  the  principality.  Of  the  few  Welsh  scholars 
none  were  found  who  took  sufficient  interest  in  this 
branch  of  learning  to  give  these  productions  to  the 
English  public.  Southey  and  Scott,  and  others,  who. 
like  them,  loved  the  old  romantic  legends  of  their  couri' 

527 


528  THE  MABINOGEON 

try,  often  urged  upon  the  Welsh  literati  the  duty  of  re- 
producing the  Mabinogeon.  Southey,  in  the  preface  of 
his  edition  of  "Moted'Arthur,"  says :  "The  specimens 
which  I  have  seen  are  exceedingly  curious ;  nor  is  there 
a  greater  desideratum  in  British  literature  than  an  edi- 
tion of  these  tales,  with  a  literal  version,  and  such  com- 
ments as  Mr.  Davies  of  all  men  is  best  qualified  to  give. 
Certain  it  is  that  many  of  the  round  table  fictions  origi- 
nated in  Wales,  or  in  Bretagne,  and  probably  might  still 
be  traced  there/' 

Again,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Charles  W.  W.  Wynn,  dated 
1819,  he  says : 

"I  begin  almost  to  despair  of  ever  seeing  more  of  the 
Mabinogeon ;  and  yet  if  some  competent  Welshman  could 
be  found  to  edit  it  carefully,  with  as  literal  a  version  as 
possible,  I  am  sure  it  might  be  made  worth  his  while  by 
a  subscription,  printing  a  small  edition  at  a  high  price, 
perhaps  two  hundred  at  five  guineas.  I  myself  would 
gladly  subscribe  at  that  price  per  volume  for  such  an 
edition  of  the  whole  of  your  genuine  remains  in  prose 
and  verse.  Till  some  such  collection  is  made,  the  'gen- 
tlemen of  Wales'  ought  to  be  prohibited  from  wearing  a 
leek;  ay,  and  interdicted  from  toasted  cheese  also.  Your 
bards  would  have  met  with  better  usage  if  they  had  been 
Scotchmen." 

Sharon  Turner  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  also  expressed  a 
similar  wish  for  the  publication  of  the  Welsh  manu- 
scripts. The  former  took  part  in  an  attempt  to  effect  it, 
through  the  instrumentality  of  a  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welsh- 
man, but,  we  judge,  by  what  Southey  says  of  him,  im- 
perfectly acquainted  with  English.  Southey's  language 
is  "William  Owen  lent  me  three  parts  of  the  Mabinogeon, 
delightfully  translated  into  so  Welsh  an  idiom  and  syn- 
tax that  such  a  translation  is  as  instructive  as  an  origi- 
nal." In  another  letter  he  adds,  "Let  Sharon  make  his 
language  grammatical,  but  not  alter  their  idiom  in  the 
slightest  point." 

It  is  probable  Mr.  Owen  did  not  proceed  far  in  an  un- 
dertaking which,  so  executed,  could  expect  but  little 
popular  patronage.  It  was  not  till  an  individual  should 
appear  possessed  of  the  requisite  knowledge  of  the  two 


THE  BRITONS  S29 

languages,  of  enthusiasm  sufficient  for  the  task,  and  of 
pecuniary  resources  sufficient  to  be  independent  of  the 
booksellers  and  of  the  reading  public,  that  such  a  work 
could  be  confidently  expected.  Such  an  individual  has, 
since  Southey's  day  and  Scott's,  appeared  in  the  persoiii 
of  Lady  Charlotte  Guest,  an  English  lady  united  to  a 
gentleman  of  property  in  Wales,  who,  having  acquired 
the  language  of  the  principality,  and  become  enthusias- 
tically fond  of  its  literary  treasures,  has  given  them  to 
the  English  reader,  in  a  dress  which  the  printer's  and  the 
engraver's  arts  have  done  their  best  to  adorn.  In  four 
royal  octavo  volumes  containing  the  Welsh  originals,  the 
translation,  and  ample  illustrations  from  French,  Ger- 
man, and  other  contemporary  and  affiliated  literature, 
the  Mabinogeon  is  spread  before  us.  To  the  antiquarian 
and  the  student  of  language  and  ethnology  an  invalua- 
ble treasure,  it  yet  can  hardly  in  such  a  form  win  its 
way  to  popular  acquaintance.  We  claim  no  other  merit 
than  that  of  bringing  it  to  the  knowledge  of  our  readers, 
of  abridging  its  details,  of  selecting  its  most  attractive 
portions,  and  of  faithfully  preserving  throughout  the  style 
in  which  Lady  Guest  has  clothed  her  legends.  For  this 
service  we  hope  that  our  readers  will  confess  we  have 
laid  them  under  no  light  obligation. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  BRITONS 

THE  earliest  inhabitants  of  Britain  are  supposed  to 
have  been  a  branch  of  that  great  family  known  in  history 
by  the  designation  of  Celts.  Cambria,  which  is  a  fre- 
quent name  for  Wales,  is  thought  to  be  derived  from 
Cymri,  the  name  which  the  Welsh  traditions  apply  to  an 
immigrant  people  who  entered  the  island  from  the  adja- 
cent continent.  This  name  is  thought  to  be  identical 
with  those  of  Cimmerians  and  Cimbri,  under  which  the 
Greek  and  Roman  historians  describe  a  barbarous  peo- 
ple, who  spread  themselves  from  the  north  of  the  Euxine 
over  the  whole  of  Northwestern  Europe. 


530  THE  MABINOGEON 

The  origin  of  the  names  Wales  and  Welsh  has  been 
much  canvassed.  Some  writers  make  them  a  derivation 
from  Gael  or  Gaul,  which  names  are  said  to  signify 
"woodlanders ;"  others  observe  that  Walsh,  in  the  north- 
ern languages,  signifies  a  stranger,  and  that  the  aborigi- 
nal Britons  were  so  called  by  those  who  at  a  later  era 
invaded  the  island  and  possessed  the  greater  part  of  it, 
the  Saxons  and  Angles. 

The  Romans  held  Britain  from  the  invasion  of  Julius 
Caesar  till  their  voluntary  withdrawal  from  the  island, 
A.D.  420, — that  is,  about  five  hundred  years.  In  that 
time  there  must  have  been  a  wide  diffusion  of  their  arts 
and  institutions  among  the  natives.  The  remains  of 
roads,  cities,  and  fortifications  show  that  they  did  much 
to  develop  and  improve  the  country,  while  those  of  their 
villas  and  castles  prove  that  many  of  the  settlers  pos- 
sessed wealth  and  taste  for  the  ornamental  arts.  Yet  the 
Roman  sway  was  sustained  chiefly  by  force,  and  never 
extended  over  the  entire  island.  The  northern  portion, 
now  Scotland,  remained  independent,  and  the  western 
portion,  constituting  Wales  and  Cornwall,  was  only  nomi- 
nally subjected. 

Neither  did  the  later  invading  hordes  succeed  in  sub- 
duing the  remoter  sections  of  the  island.  For  ages  after 
the  arrival  of  the  Saxons  under  Hengist  and  Horsa,  A.D. 
449,  the  whole  western  coast  of  Britain  was  possessed  by 
the  aboriginal  inhabitants,  engaged  in  constant  warfare 
with  the  invaders. 

It  has,  therefore,  been  a  favorite  boast  of  the  people 
of  Wales  and  Cornwall  that  the  original  British  stock 
flourishes  in  its  unmixed  purity  only  among  them.  We 
see  this  notion  flashing  out  in  poetry  occasionally,  as 
when  Gray,  in  "The  Bard,"  prophetically  describing 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  of  the  Tudor,  a  Welsh  race, 
says: 

"Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Briton  line;" 

and,  contrasting  the  princes  of  the  Tudor  with  those  of 
the  Norman  race,  he  exclaims : 

"All  hail,  ye  genuine  kings,  Britannia's  issue,  hail ! " 


THE  BRITONS  531 


THE   WELSH    LANGUAGE   AND   LITERATURE 

The  Welsh  language  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Europe. 
It  possesses  poems  the  origin  of  which  is  referred  with 
probability  to  the  sixth  century.  The  language  of  some 
of  these  is  so  antiquated  that  the  best  scholars  differ 
about  the  interpretation  of  many  passages ;  but,  generally 
speaking,  the  body  of  poetry  which  the  Welsh  possess, 
from  the  year  1000  downwards,  is  intelligible  to  those 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  modern  language. 

Till  within  the  last  half-century  these  compositions 
remained  buried  in  the  libraries  of  colleges  or  of  individ- 
uals, and  so  difficult  of  access  that  no  successful  attempt 
was  made  to  give  them  to  the  world.  This  reproach  was 
removed  after  ineffectual  appeals  to  the  patriotism  of 
the  gentry  of  Wales,  by  Owen  Jones,  a  furrier  of  Lon- 
don, who  at  his  own  expense  collected  and  published  the 
chief  productions  of  Welsh  literature,  under  the  title  of 
the  Myvyrian  Archaeology  of  Wales.  In  this  task  he 
was  assisted  by  Dr.  Owen  and  other  Welsh  scholars. 

After  the  cessation  of  Jones'  exertions  the  old  apathy 
returned,  and  continued  till  within  a  few  years.  Dr. 
Owen  exerted  himself  to  obtain  support  for  the  publica- 
tion of  the  Mabinogeon  or  Prose  Tales  of  the  Welsh, 
but  died  without  accomplishing  his  purpose,  which  has 
since  been  carried  into  execution  by  Lady  Charlotte 
Guest.  The  legends  which  fill  the  remainder  of  this  vol- 
ume are  taken  from  this  work,  of  which  we  have  already 
spoken  more  fully  in  the  introductory  chapter  to  the  First 
Part. 

THE  WELSH  BARDS 

The  authors  to  whom  the  oldest  Welsh  poems  are 
attributed  are  Aneurin,  who  is  supposed  to  have  lived 
A.D.  500  to  550,  and  Taliesin,  Llywarch  Hen  (Llywarch 
the  Aged),  and  Myrddin  or  Merlin,  who  were  a  few 
years  later.  The  authenticity  of  the  poems  which  bear 
their  names  has  been  assailed,  and  it  is  still  an  open 
question  how  many  and  which  of  them  are  authentic, 
though  it  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  some  are  so.  The 
poem  of  Aneurin  entitled  the  "Gododm,"  bears  very 


532  THE  MABINOGEON 

strong  marks  of  authenticity.  Aneurin  was  one  of  the 
Northern  Britons  of  Strath-Clyde,  who  have  left  to  that 
part  of  the  district  they  inhabited  the  name  of  Cumber- 
land, or  Land  of  the  Cymri.  In  this  poem  he  laments  the 
defeat  of  his  countrymen  by  the  Saxons  at  the  battle  of 
Cattraeth,  in  consequence  of  having  partaken  too  freely 
of  the  mead  before  joining  in  combat.  The  bard  himself 
and  two  of  his  fellow-warriors  were  all  who  escaped 
from  the  field.  A  portion  of  this  poem  has  been  trans- 
lated by  Gray,  of  which  the  following  is  an  extract : 

"To  Cattraeth's  vale,  in  glittering  row, 
Twice  two  hundred  warriors  go ; 
Every  warrior's  manly  neck 
Chains  of  regal  honor  deck, 
Wreathed  in  many  a  golden  link; 
From  the  golden  cup  they  drink 
Nectar  that  the  bees  produce, 
Or  the  grape's  exalted  juice. 
Flushed  with  mirth  and  hope  they  burn, 
But  none  to  Cattraeth's  vale  return, 
Save  Aeron  brave,  and  Conan  strong, 
Bursting  through  the  bloody  throng, 
And  I,  the  meanest  of  them  all, 
That  live  to  weep,  and  sing  their  fall." 

The  works  of  Taliesin  are  of  much  more  questionable 
authenticity.  There  is  a  story  of  the  adventures  of  Talie- 
sin so  strongly  marked  with  mythical  traits  as  to  cast 
suspicion  on  the  writings  attributed  to  him.  This  story 
will  be  found  in  the  subsequent  pages. 


THE   TRIADS 

The  Triads  are  a  peculiar  species  of  poetical  composi- 
tion, of  which  the  Welsh  bards  have  left  numerous  ex- 
amples. They  are  enumerations  of  a  triad  of  persons, 
or  events,  or  observations,  strung  together  in  one  short 
sentence.  This  form  of  composition,  originally  invented, 
in  all  likelihood,  to  assist  the  memory,  has  been  raised 
by  the  Welsh  to  a  degree  of  elegance  of  which  it  hardly 
at  first  sight  appears  susceptible.  The  Triads  are  of  all 
ages,  some  of  them  probably  as  old  as  anything  in  the 
language.  Short  as  they  are  individually,  the  collection 


THE  BRITONS  533 

in  the  Myvyrian  Archaeology  occupies  more  than  one 
hundred  and  seventy  pages  of  double  columns.  We  will 
give  some  specimens,  beginning  with  personal  triads,  and 
giving  the  first  place  to  one  of  King  Arthur's  own  com- 
position : 

"I  have  three  heroes  in  battle : 
Mael  the  tall,  and  Llyr,  with  his  army, 
And  Caradoc,  the  pillar  of  Wales." 

"The  three  principal  bards  of  the  island  of  Britain: — 
Merlin  Ambrose 

Merlin  the  son  of  Mprfyn,  called  also  Merlin  the  Wild, 
And  Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards." 

"The  three  golden-tongued  knights  of  the  court  of  Arthur: — 
Gawain,  son  of  Gwyar, 
Drydvas,  son  of  Tryphin, 
And  Eliwlod,  son  of  Madag,  ap  Uther." 

"The  three  honorable  feasts  of  the  island  of  Britain : — 
The  feast  of  Caswallaun,  after  repelling  Julius  Caesar  from  this 

isle; 
The  feast  of  Aurelius  Ambrosius,  after  he  had  conquered  the 

Saxons ; 
And  the  feast  of  King  Arthur,  at  Carleon  upon  Usk." 

"Guenever,  the  daughter  of  Laodegan  the  giant, 
Bad  when  little,  worse  when  great." 

Next  follow  some  moral  triads: 

"Hast  thpu  heard  what  Dremhidydd  sung, 
An  ancient  watchman  on  the  castle  walls? 
A  refusal  is  better  than  a  promise  unperformed." 

"Hast  thou  heard  what  Llenleawg  sung, 
The  noble  chief  wearing  the  golden  torques? 
The  grave  is  better  than  a  life  of  want." 

"Hast  thou  heard  what  Garselit  sung, 
The  Irishman  whom  it  is  safe  to  follow? 
Sin  is  bad,  if  long  pursued." 

"Hast  thou  heard  what  Avaon  sung, 
The  son  of  Taliesin,  of  the  recording  verse? 
The  cheek  will  not  conceal  the  anguish  of  the  heart." 

"Didst  thou  hear  what  Llywarch  sung, 
The  intrepid  and  brave  old  man? 
Greet  kindly,  though  there  be  no  acquaintance." 


534  THE  MABINOGEON 

CHAPTER  II 
THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN 

KYNON'S  ADVENTURE 

KING  ARTHUR  was  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk;  and  one 
day  he  sat  in  his  chamber,  and  with  him  were  Owain,  the 
son  of  Urien,  and  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno,  and  Kay, 
the  son  of  Kyner,  and  Guenever  and  her  handmaidens  at 
needlework  by  the  window.  In  the  centre  of  the  cham- 
ber King  Arthur  sat,  upon  a  seat  of  green  rushes,1  over 
which  was  spread  a  covering  of  flame-covered  satin,  and 
a  cushion  of  red  satin  was  under  his  elbow. 

Then  Arthur  spoke.  "If  I  thought  you  would  not  dis- 
parage me,"  said  he,  "I  would  sleep  while  1  wait  for  my 
repast;  and  you  can  entertain  one  another  with  relating 
tales,  and  can  obtain  a  flagon  of  mead  and  some  meat 
from  Kay."  And  the  king  went  to  sleep.  And  Kynon 
the  son  of  Clydno  asked  Kay  for  that  which  Arthur  had 
promised  them.  "I  too  will  have  the  good  tale  which  he 
promised  me,"  said  Kay.  "Nay,"  answered  Kynon ; 
"fairer  will  it  be  for  thee  to  fulfil  Arthur's  behest  in  the 
first  place,  and  then  we  will  tell  thee  the  best  tale  that  we 
know."  So  Kay  went  to  the  kitchen  and  to  the  mead- 
cellar,  and  returned,  bearing  a  flagon  of  mead,  and  a 
golden  goblet,  and  a  handful  of  skewers,  upon  which 
were  broiled  collops  of  meat.  Then  they  ate  the  collops, 
and  began  to  drink  the  mead.  "Now,"  said  Kay,  "it 
is  time  for  you  to  give  me  my  story."  "Kynon,"  said 
Owain,  "do  thou  pay  to  Kay  the  tale  that  is  his  due." 
"I  will  do  so,"  answered  Kynon. 

"I  was  the  only  son  of  my  mother  and  father,  and  I 
was  exceedingly  aspiring,  and  my  daring  was  very  great. 
I  thought  there  was  no  enterprise  in  the  world  too  mighty 

1  The  use  of  green  rushes  in  apartments  was  by  no  means  peculiar  to 
the  court  of  Caerleon  upon  Usk.  Our  ancestors  had  a  great  predilection  for 
them,  and  they  seem  to  have  constituted  an  essential  article,  not  only  of 
comfort,  but  of  luxury.  The  custom  of  strewing  the  floor  with  rushes  is 
well  known  to  have  existed  in  England  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  also 
in  France, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          535 

for  me :  and  after  I  had  achieved  all  the  adventures  that 
were  in  my  own  country,  I  equipped  myself,  and  set  forth 
to  journey  through  deserts  and  distant  regions.  And  at 
length  it  chanced  that  I  came  to  the  fairest  valley  in  the 
world,  wherein  were  trees  all  of  equal  growth ;  and  a  river 
ran  through  the  valley,  and  a  path  was  by  the  side  of  the 
river.  And  I  followed  the  path  until  midday,  and  con- 
tinued my  journey  along  the  remainder  of  the  valley  un- 
til the  evening;  and  at  the  extremity  of  the  plain  I  came 
to  a  large  and  lustrous  castle,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a 
torrent.  And  I  approached  the  castle,  and  there  I  beheld 
two  youths  with  yellow  curling  hair,  each  with  a  front- 
let of  gold  upon  his  head,  and  clad  in  a  garment  of  yel- 
low satin;  and  they  had  gold  clasps  upon  their  insteps. 
In  the  hand  of  each  of  them  was  an  ivory  bow,  strung 
with  the  sinews  of  the  stag,  and  their  arrows  and  their 
shafts  were  of  the  bone  of  the  whale,  and  were  winged 
with  peacock's  feathers.  The  shafts  also  had  golden 
heads.  And  they  had  daggers  with  blades  of  gold,  and 
with  hilts  of  the  bone  of  the  whale.  And  they  were 
shooting  at  a  mark. 

"And  a  little  away  from  them  I  saw  a  man  in  the 
prime  of  life,  with  his  beard  newly  shorn,  clad  in  a  robe 
and  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  and  round  the  top  of  his 
mantle  was  a  band  of  gold  lace.  On  his  feet  were  shoes 
of  variegated  leather,1  fastened  by  two  bosses  of  gold. 
When  I  saw  him  I  went  towards  him  and  saluted  him; 
and  such  was  his  courtesy,  that  he  no  sooner  received 
my  greeting  than  he  returned  it.  And  he  went  with  me 
towards  the  castle.  Now  there  were  no  dwellers  in  the 
castle,  except  those  who  were  in  one  hall.  And  there  I 
saw  four  and  twenty  damsels,  embroidering  satin  at  a  win- 
dow. And  this  I  tell  thee,  Kay,  that  the  least  fair  of  them 
was  fairer  than  the  fairest  maid  thou  didst  ever  behold 
in  the  island  of  Britain ;  and  the  least  lovely  of  them  was 
more  lovely  than  Guenever,  the  wife  of  Arthur,  when 
she  appeared  loveliest,  at  the  feast  of  Easter.  They 
rose  up  at  my  coming,  and  six  of  them  took  my  horse 

1  Cordwal  is  the  word  in  the  original,  and  from  the  manner  in  which 
it  is  used  it  is  evidently  intended  for  the  French  Cordouan  or  Cordovan 
leather,  which  derived  its  name  from  Cordova,  where  it  was  manufactured. 
From  this  comes  also  our  English  word  cerdwamer. 


536  THE  MABINOGEON 

and  divested  me  of  my  armor,  and  six  others  took  my 
arms  and  washed  them  in  a  vessel  till  they  were  perfectly 
bright.  And  the  third  six  spread  cloths  upon  the  tables 
and  prepared  meat.  And  the  fourth  six  took  off  my 
soiled  garments  and  placed  others  upon  me,  namely,  an 
under  vest  and  a  doublet  of  fine  linen,  and  a  robe  and  a 
surcoat,  and  a  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  with  a  broad  gold 
band  upon  the  mantle.  And  they  placed  cushions  both 
beneath  and  around  me,  with  coverings  of  red  linen,  and 
I  sat  down.  Now  the  six  maidens  who  had  taken  my 
horse  unharnessed  him  as  well  as  if  they  had  been  the 
best  squires  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

"Then  behold  they  brought  bowls  of  silver,  wherein 
was  water  to  wash  and  towels  of  linen,  some  green  and 
some  white;  and  I  washed.  And  in  a  little  while  the 
man  sat  down  at  the  table.  And  I  sat  next  to  him,  and 
below  me  sat  all  the  maidens,  except  those  who  waited 
on  us.  And  the  table  was  of  silver,  and  the  cloths  upon 
the  table  were  of  linen.  And  no  vessel  was  served  upon 
the  table  that  was  not  either  of  gold  or  of  silver  or  of 
buffalo  horn.  And  our  meat  was  brought  to  us.  And  veri- 
ly, Kay,  I  saw  there  every  sort  of  meat,  and  every  sort  of 
liquor  that  I  ever  saw  elsewhere;  but  the  meat  and  the 
liquor  were  better  served  there  than  I  ever  saw  them  in 
any  other  place. 

"Until  the  repast  was  half  over,  neither  the  man  nor 
any  one  of  the  damsels  spoke  a  single  word  to  me;  but 
when  the  man  perceived  that  it  would  be  more  agreeable 
for  me  to  converse  than  to  eat  any  more,  he  began  to 
inquire  of  me  who  I  was.  Then  I  told  the  man  who  I 
was  and  what  was  the  cause  of  my  journey,  and  said 
that  I  was  seeking  whether  any  one  was  superior  to  me, 
or  whether  I  could  gain  mastery  over  all.  The  man 
looked  upon  me,  and  he  smiled  and  said,  'If  I  did  not 
fear  to  do  thee  a  mischief,  I  would  show  thee  that  which 
thou  seekest.'  Then  I  desired  him  to  speak  freely.  And 
he  said:  'Sleep  here  to-night,  and  in  the  morning  arise 
early,  and  take  the  road  upwards  through  the  valley, 
until  thou  readiest  the  wood.  A  little  way  within 
the  wood  thou  wilt  come  to  a  large  sheltered  glade,  with 
a  mound  in  the  centre.  And  thou  wilt  see  a  black  man 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          537 

of  great  stature  on  the  top  of  the  mound.  He  has  but 
one  foot,  and  one  eye  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead.  He 
is  the  wood-ward  of  that  wood.  And  thou  wilt  see  a 
thousand  wild  animals  grazing  around  him.  Inquire  of 
him  the  way  out  of  the  glade,  and  he  will  reply  to  thee 
briefly,  and  will  point  out  the  road  by  which  thou  shalt 
find  that  which  thou  art  in  quest  of/ 

"And  long  seemed  that  night  to  me.  And  the  next 
morning  I  arose  and  equipped  myself,  and  mounted  my 
horse,  and  proceeded  straight  through  the  valley  to  the 
wood,  and  at  length  I  arrived  at  the  glade.  And  the 
black  man  was  there,  sitting  upon  the  top  of  the  mound ; 
and  I  was  three  times  more  astonished  at  the  number  of 
wild  animals  that  I  beheld  than  the  man  had  said  I 
should  be.  Then  I  inquired  of  him  the  way  and  he  asked 
me  roughly  whither  I  would  go.  And  when  I  had  told 
him  who  I  was  and  what  I  sought,  'Take,'  said  he,  'that 
path  that  leads  toward  the  head  of  the  glade,  and  there 
thou  wilt  find  an  open  space  like  to  a  large  valley,  and 
in  the  midst  of  it  a  tall  tree.  Under  this  tree  is  a 
fountain,  and  by  the  side  of  the  fountain  a  marble 
slab,  and  on  the  marble  slab  a  silver  bowl,  attached  by 
a  chain  of  silver,  that  it  may  not  be  carried  away.  Take 
the  bowl  and  throw  a  bowlful  of  water  on  the  slab.  And 
if  thou  dost  not  find  trouble  in  that  adventure,  thou 
needest  not  seek  it  during  the  rest  of  thy  life/ 

"So  I  journeyed  on  until  I  reached  the  summit  of  the 
steep.  And  there  I  found  everything  as  the  black  man 
had  described  it  to  me.  And  I  went  up  to  the  tree,  and 
beneath  it  I  saw  the  fountain,  and  by  its  side  the  marble 
slab,  and  the  silver  bowl  fastened  by  the  chain.  Then  I 
took  the  bowl,  and  cast  a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab, 
and  immediately  I  heard  a  mighty  peal  of  thunder,  so 
that  heaven  and  earth  seemed  to  tremble  with  its  fury. 
And  after  the  thunder  came  a  shower;  and  of  a  truth  I 
tell  thee,  Kay,  that  it  was  such  a  shower  as  neither  man 
nor  beast  could  endure  and  live.  I  turned  my  horse's 
flank  toward  the  shower,  and  placed  the  beak  of  my 
shield  over  his  head  and  neck,  while  I  held  the  upper 
part  of  it  over  my  own  neck.  And  thus  I  withstood 
the  shower.  And  presently  the  sky  became  clear,  and 


538  THE  MABINOGEON 

with  that,  behold,  the  birds  lighted  upon  the  tree,  and 
sang.  And  truly,  Kay,  I  never  heard  any  melody  equal 
to  that,  either  before  or  since.  And  when  I  was  most 
charmed  with  listening  to  the  birds,  lo !  a  chiding  voice 
was  heard  of  one  approaching  me  and  saying:  'O 
knight,  what  has  brought  thee  hither?  What  evil  have 
I  done  to  thee  that  thou  shouldst  act  towards  me  and  my 
possessions  as  thou  hast  this  day?  Dost  thou  not  know 
that  the  shower  to-day  has  left  in  my  dominions  neither 
man  nor  beast  alive  that  was  exposed  to  it?'  And  there- 
upon, behold,  a  knight  on  a  black  horse  appeared,  clothed 
in  jet-black  velvet,  and  with  a  tabard  of  black  linen 
about  him.  And  we  charged  each  other,  and,  as  the  on- 
set was  furious,  it  was  not  long  before  I  was  over- 
thrown. Then  the  knight  passed  the  shaft  of  his  lance 
through  the  bridle-rein  of  my  horse,  and  rode  off  with 
the  two  horses,  leaving  me  where  I  was.  And  he  did 
not  even  bestow  so  much  notice  upon  me  as  to  imprison 
me,  nor  did  he  despoil  me  of  my  arms.  So  I  returned 
along  the  road  by  which  I  had  come.  And  when  I 
reached  the  glade  where  the  black  man  was,  I  confess 
to  thee,  Kay,  it  is  a  marvel  that  I  did  not  melt  down  into 
a  liquid  pool,  through  the  shame  that  I  felt  at  the  black 
man's  derision.  And  that  night  I  came  to  the  same  cas- 
tle where  I  had  spent  the  night  preceding.  And  I  was 
more  agreeably  entertained  that  night  than  I  had  been 
the  night  before.  And  I  conversed  freely  with  the  in- 
mates of  the  castle;  and  none  of  them  alluded  to  my 
expedition  to  the  fountain,  neither  did  I  mention  it  to 
any.  And  I  remained  there  that  night.  When  I  arose 
on  the  morrow  I  found  ready  saddled  a  dark  bay  pal- 
frey, with  nostrils  as  red  as  scarlet.  And  after  putting 
on  my  armor,  and  leaving  there  my  blessing,  I  returned 
to  my  own  court.  And  that  horse  I  still  possess,  and 
he  is  in  the  stable  yonder.  And  I  declare  that  I  would 
not  part  with  him  for  the  best  palfrey  in  the  island  of 
Britain. 

"Now,  of  a  truth,  Kay,  no  man  ever  before  confessed 
to  an  adventure  so  much  to  his  own  discredit ;  and  verily 
it  seems  strange  to  me  that  neither  before  nor  since 
have  I  heard  of  any  person  who  knew  of  this  adventure, 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          539 

and  that  the  subject  of  it  should  exist  within  King  Ar- 
thur's dominions  without  any  other  person  lighting 
upon  it." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   LADY   OF    THE    FOUNTAIN     (Continued) 
OWAIN'S   ADVENTURE1 

"Now,"  quoth  Owain,  "would  it  not  be  well  to  go  and 
endeavor  to  discover  that  place?" 

"By  the  hand  of  my  friend,"  said  Kay,  "often  dost 
thou  utter  that  with  thy  tongue  which  thou  wouldest  not 
make  good  with  thy  deeds." 

"In  very  truth,"  said  Guenever,  "it  were  better  thou 
wert  hanged,  Kay,  than  to  use  such  uncourteous  speech 
towards  a  man  like  Owain." 

"By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  good  lady,"  said  Kay, 
"thy  praise  of  Owain  is  not  greater  than  mine." 

With  that  Arthur  awoke,  and  asked  if  he  had  not  been 
sleeping  a  little. 

"Yes,  lord,"  answered  Owain,  "thou  hast  slept 
awhile." 

"Is  it  time  for  us  to  go  to  ttieat?" 

"It  is,  lord,"  said  Owain. 

Then  the  horn  for  washing  was  sounded,  and  the  king 
and  all  his  household  sat  down  to  eat.  And  when  the 
meal  was  ended  Owain.  withdrew  to  his  lodging,  and 
made  ready  his  horse  and  his  arms. 

On  the  morrow  with  the  dawn  of  day  he  put  on  his 
armor,  and  mounted  his  charger,  and  travelled  through 


540  THE  MABINOGEON 

distant  lands,  and  over  desert  mountains.  And  at  length 
he  arrived  at  the  valley  which  Kynon  had  described  to 
him,  and  he  was  certain  that  it  was  the  same  that  he 
sought.  And  journeying  along  the  valley,  by  the  side  of 
the  river,  he  followed  its  course  till  he  came  to  the  plain, 
and  within  sight  of  the  castle.  When  he  approached  the 
castle  he  saw  the  youths  shooting  with  their  bows,  in 
the  place  where  Kynon  had  seen  them,  and  the  yellow 
man,  to  whom  the  castle  belonged,  standing  hard  by. 
And  no  sooner  had  Owain  saluted  the  yellow  man,  than 
he  was  saluted  by  him  in  return. 

And  he  went  forward  towards  the  castle,  and  there  he 
saw  the  chamber ;  and  when  he  had  entered  the  chamber, 
he  beheld  the  maidens  working  at  satin  embroidery,  in 
chains  of  gold.  And  their  beauty  and  their  comeliness 
seemed  to  Owain  far  greater  than  Kynon  had  repre- 
sented to  him.  And  they  arose  to  wait  upon  Owain,  as 
they  had  done  to  Kynon.  And  the  meal  which  they  set 
before  him  gave  even  more  satisfaction  to  Owain  than  it 
had  done  to  Kynon. 

About  the  middle  of  the  repast  the  yellow  man  asked 
Owain  the  object  of  his  journey.  And  Owain  made  it 
known  to  him,  and  said,  "I  am  in  quest  of  the  knight 
who  guards  the  fountain."  Upon  this  the  yellow  man 
smiled,  and  said  that  he  was  as  loth  to  point  out  that 
adventure  to  him  as  he  had  been  to  Kynon.  However, 
he  described  the  whole  to  Owain,  and  they  retired  to 
rest. 

The  next  morning  Owain  found  his  horse  made  ready 
for  him  by  the  damsels,  and  he  set  forward  and  came 
to  the  glade  where  the  black  man  was.  And  the  stature 
of  the  black  man  seemed  more  wonderful  to  Owain  than 
it  had  done  to  Kynon;  and  Owain  asked  of  him  his 
road,  and  he  showed  it  to  him.  And  Owain  followed  the 
road  till  he  came  to  the  green  tree;  and  he  beheld  the 
fountain,  and  the  slab  beside  the  fountain,  with  the 
bowl  upon  it.  And  Owain  took  the  bowl  and  threw  a 
bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab.  And,  lo !  the  thunder 
was  heard,  and  after  the  thunder  came  the  shower,  more 
violent  than  Kynon  had  described,  and  after  the  shower 
the  sky  became  bright.  And  immediately  the  birds  came 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          541 

and  settled  upon  the  tree  and  sang.  And  when  their 
song  was  most  pleasing  to  Owain  he  beheld  a  knight 
coming  towards  him  through  the  valley;  and  he  pre- 
pared to  receive  him,  and  encountered  him  violently. 
Having  broken  both  their  lances,  they  drew  their  swords 
and  fought  blade  to  blade.  Then  Owain  struck  the 
knight  a  blow  through  his  helmet,  head-piece,  and  visor, 
and  through  the  skin,  and  the  flesh,  and  the  bone,  until 
it  wounded  the  very  brain.  Then  the  black  knight  felt 
that  he  had  received  a  mortal  wound,  upon  which  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  and  fled.  And  Owain  pursued 
him  and  followed  close  upon  him,  although  he  was  not 
near  enough  to  strike  him  with  his  sword.  Then  Owain 
descried  a  vast  and  resplendent  castle;  and  they  came 
to  the  castle  gate.  And  the  black  knight  was  allowed  to 
enter,  and  the  portcullis  was  let  fall  upon  Owain;  and 
it  struck  his  horse  behind  the  saddle,  and  out  him  in 
two,  and  carried  away  the  rowels  of  the  spurs  that  were 
upon  Owains'  heels.  And  the  portcullis  descended  to 
the  floor.  And  the  rowels  of  the  spurs  and  part  of  the 
horse  were  without,  and  Owain  with  the  other  part  of 
the  horse  remained  between  the  two  gates,  and  the  inner 
gate  was  closed,  so  that  Owain  could  not  go  thence ;  and 
Owain  was  in  a  perplexing  situation.  And  while  he 
was  in  this  state,  he  could  see  through  an  aperture  in  the 
gate  a  street  facing  him,  with  a  row  of  houses  on  each 
side.  And  he  beheld  a  maiden,  with  yellow,  curling 
hair,  and  a  frontlet  of  gold  upon  her  head ;  and  she  was 
clad  in  a  dress  of  yellow  satin,  and  on  her  feet  were 
shoes  of  variegated  leather.  And  she  approached  the 
gate,  and  desired  that  it  should  be  opened.  "Heaven 
knows,  lady,"  said  Owain,  "it  is  no  more  possible  for 
me  to  open  to  thee  from  hence,  than  it  is  for  thee  to  set 
me  free."  And  he  told  her  his  name,  and  who  he  was. 
"Truly,"  said  the  damsel,  "it  is  very  sad  that  thou  canst 
not  be  released;  and  every  woman  ought  to  succor  thee, 
for  I  know  there  is  no  one  more  faithful  in  the  service 
of  ladies  than  thou.  Therefore,"  quoth  she,  "whatever 
is  in  my  power  to  do  for  thy  release,  I  will  do  it.  Take 
this  ring  and  put  it  on  thy  finger,  with  the  stone  inside 
thy  hand,  and  close  thy  hand  upon  the  stone.  And  as 


542  THE  MABINOGEON 

long  as  thou  concealest  it,  it  will  conceal  thee.  When 
they  come  forth  to  fetch  thee,  they  will  be  much  grieved 
that  they  cannot  find  thee.  And  I  will  await  thee  on  the 
horseblock  yonder,  and  thou  wilt  be  able  to  see  me, 
though  I  cannot  see  thee.  Therefore  come  and  place 
thy  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  that  I  may  know  that  thou 
art  near  me.  And  by  the  way  that  I  go  hence  do  thou 
accompany  me." 

Then  the  maiden  went  away  from  Owain,  and  he  did 
all  that  she  had  told  him.  And  the  people  of  the  castle 
came  to  seek  Owain  to  put  him  to  death ;  and  when  they 
found  nothing  but  the  half  of  his  horse,  they  were  sorely 
grieved. 

And  Owain  vanished  from  among  them,  and  went  to 
the  maiden,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder; 
whereupon  she  set  off,  and  Owain  followed  her,  until  they 
came  to  the  door  of  a  large  and  beautiful  chamber,  and 
the  maiden  opened  it,  and  they  went  in.  And  Owain 
looked  around  the  chamber,  and  behold  there  was  not  a 
single  nail  in  it  that  was  not  painted  with  gorgeous  col- 
ors, and  there  was  not  a  single  panel  that  had  not  sundry 
images  in  gold  portrayed  upon  it. 

The  maiden  kindled  a  fire,  and  took  water  in  a  silver 
bowl,  and  gave  Owain  water  to  wash.  Then  she  placed 
before  him  a  silver  table,  inlaid  with  gold;  upon  which 
was  a  cloth  of  yellow  linen,  and  she  brought  him  food. 
And,  of  a  truth,  Owain  never  saw  any  kind  of  meat  that 
was  not  there  in  abundance,  but  it  was  better  cooked 
there  than  he  had  ever  found  it  in  any  other  place.  And 
there  was  not  one  vessel  from  which  he  was  served 
that  was  not  of  gold  or  of  silver.  And  Owain  eat  and 
drank  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  lo !  they  heard  a 
mighty  clamor  in  the  castle,  and  Owain  asked  the  maiden 
what  it  was.  "They  are  administering  extreme  unction," 
said  she,  "to  the  nobleman  who  owns  the  castle."  And 
she  prepared  a  couch  for  Owain  which  was  meet  for 
Arthur  himself,  and  Owain  went  to  sleep. 

And  a  little  after  daybreak  he  heard  an  exceeding 
loud  clamor  and  wailing,  and  he  asked  the  maiden  what 
was  the  cause  of  it.  "They  are  bearing  to  the  church 
the  body  of  the  nobleman  who  owned  the  castle." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          543 

And  Owain  rose  up,  and  clothed  himself,  and  opened 
a  window  of  the  chamber,  and  looked  towards  the  cas- 
tle; and  he  could  see  neither  the  bounds  nor  the  extent 
of  the  hosts  that  filled  the  streets.  And  they  were  fully 
armed;  and  a  vast  number  of  women  were  with  them, 
both  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  and  all  the  ecclesiastics 
in  the  city  singing.  In  the  midst  of  the  throng  he  beheld 
the  bier,  over  which  was  a  veil  of  white  linen;  and  wax 
tapers  were  burning  beside  and  around  it ;  and  none  that 
supported  the  bier  was  lower  in  rank  than  a  powerful 
baron. 

Never  did  Owain  see  an  assemblage  so  gorgeous  with 
silk1  and  satin.  And,  following  the  train,  he  beheld  a 
lady  with  yellow  hair  falling  over  her  shoulders,  and 
stained  with  blood;  and  about  her  a  dress  of  yellow 
satin,  which  was  torn.  Upon  her  feet  were  shoes  of 
variegated  leather.  And  it  was  a  marvel  that  the  ends 
of  her  fingers  were  not  bruised  from  the  violence  with 
which  she  smote  her  hands  together.  Truly  she  would 
have  been  the  fairest  lady  Owain  ever  saw,  had  she 
been  in  her  usual  guise.  And  her  cry  was  louder  than 
the  shout  of  the  men  or  the  clamor  of  the  trumpets.  No 
sooner  had  he  beheld  the  lady  than  he  became  inflamed 
with  her  love,  so  that  it  took  entire  possession  of  him. 

Then  he  inquired  of  the  maiden  who  the  lady  was. 
"Heaven  knows,"  replied  the  maiden,  "she  is  the  fairest 
and  the  most  chaste,  and  the  most  liberal,  and  the  most 
noble  of  women.  She  is  my  mistress,  and  she  is  called 
the  Countess  of  the  Fountain,  the  wife  of  him  whom 
thou  didst  slay  yesterday."  "Verily,"  said  Owain,  "she 
is  the  woman  that  I  love  best."  "Verily,"  said  the  maiden, 
"she  shall  also  love  thee,  not  a  little." 

Then  the  maiden  prepared  a  repast  for  Owain,  and 
truly  he  thought  he  had  never  before  so  good  a  meal, 

1  Before  the  sixth  century  all  the  silk  used  by  Europeans  had  been 
brought  to  them  by  the  Seres,  the  ancestors  of  the  present  Boukharians, 
whence  it  derived  its  Latin  name  of  Serica.  In  551  the  silkworm  was 
brought  by  two  monks  to  Constantinople;  but  the  manufacture  of  silk  was 
confined  to  the  Greek  empire  till  the  year  1130,  when  Roger,  king  of 
Sicily,  returning  from  a  crusade,  collected  some  manufacturers  from  Atnens 
and  Corinth,  and  established  them  at  Palermo,  whence  the  trade  was  grad- 
ually disseminated  over  Italy.  The  varieties  of  silk  stuffs  known  at  this 
time  were  velvet,  satin  (which  was  called  samite),  and  taffety  (called 
tendal  or  send  all),  all  of  which  were  occasionally  stitched  with  gold  and 
silver. 


544  THE  MABINOGEON 

nor  was  he  ever  so  well  served.  Then  she  left  him,  and 
went  towards  the  castle.  When  she  came  there,  she 
found  nothing  but  mourning  and  sorrow ;  and  the  Coun- 
tess in  her  chamber  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  any  one 
through  grief.  Luned,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the 
maiden,  saluted  her,  but  the  Countess  answered  her  not. 
And  the  maiden  bent  down  towards  her,  and  said,  "What 
aileth  thee,  that  thou  answereth  no  one  to-day?" 
"Luned,"  said  the  Countess,  "what  change  hath  befallen 
thee,  that  thou  hast  not  come  to  visit  me  in  my  grief.  It 
was  wrong  in  thee,  and  I  so  sorely  afflicted."  "Truly," 
said  Luned,  "I  thought  thy  good  sense  was  greater  than 
J  find  it  to  be.  Is  it  well  for  thee  to  mourn  after  that 
good  man,  or  for  anything  else  that  thou  canst  not 
have?"  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  the  Countess,  "that 
in  the  whole  world  there  is  not  a  man  equal  to  him." 
"Not  so,"  said  Luned,  "for  an  ugly  man  would  be  as 
good  as  or  better  than  he."  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said 
the  Countess,  "that  were  it  not  repugnant  to  me  to  put  to 
death  one  whom  I  have  brought  up,  I  would  have  thee 
executed  for  making  such  a  comparison  to  me.  As  it 
is,  I  will  banish  thee."  "I  am  glad,"  said  Luned,  "that 
thou  hast  no  other  cause  to  do  so  than  that  I  would 
have  been  of  service  to  thee,  where  thou  didst  not  know 
what  was  to  thine  advantage.  Henceforth,  evil  betide 
whichever  of  us  shall  make  the  first  advance  towards 
reconciliation  to  the  other,  whether  I  should  seek  an  in- 
vitation from  thee,  or  thou  of  thine  own  accord  should 
send  to  invite." 

With  that  Luned  went  forth;  and  the  Countess  arose 
and  followed  her  to  the  door  of  the  chamber,  and  began 
coughing  loudly.  And  when  Luned  looked  back,  the 
Countess  beckoned  to  her,  and  she  returned  to  the  Coun- 
tess. "In  truth,"  said  the  Countess,  "evil  is  thy  dispo- 
sition; but  if  thou  knowest  what  is  to  my  advantage,  de- 
clare it  to  me."  "I  will  do  so,"  said  she. 

"Thou  knowest  that,  except  by  warfare  and  arms, 
it  is  impossible  for  thee  to  preserve  thy  possessions;  de- 
lay not,  therefore,  to  seek  some  one  who  can  defend 
them."  "And  how  can  I  do  that?"  said  the  Countess. 
"I  will  tell  thee,"  said  Luned;  "unless  thou  canst  defend 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          545 

the  fountain,  thou  canst  not  maintain  thy  dominions; 
and  no  one  can  defend  the  fountain  except  it  be  a  knight 
of  Arthur's  household.  I  will  go  to  Arthur's  court, 
and  ill  betide  me  if  I  return  not  thence  with  a  warrior 
who  can  guard  the  fountain  as  well  as,  or  even  better 
than,  he  who  defended  it  formerly."  "That  will  be  hard 
to  perform,"  said  the  Countess.  "Go,  however,  and  make 
proof  of  that  which  thou  hast  promised." 

Luned  set  out  under  the  pretence  of  going  to  Arthur's 
court;  but  she  went  back  to  the  mansion  where  she  had 
left  Owain,  and  she  tarried  there  as  long  as  it  might 
have  taken  her  to  travel  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur 
and  back.  And  at  the  end  of  that  time  she  apparelled 
herself,  and  went  to  visit  the  Countess.  And  the  Coun- 
tess was  much  rejoiced  when  she  saw  her,  and  inquired 
what  news  she  brought  from  the  court.  "I  bring  thee 
the  best  of  news,"  said  Luned,  "for  I  have  compassed 
the  object  of  my  mission.  When  wilt  thou  that  I  should 
present  to  thee  the  chieftain  who  has  come  with  me 
hither?"  "Bring  him  here  to  visit  me  to-morrow,"  said 
the  Countess,  "and  I  will  cause  the  town  to  be  assembled 
by  that  time." 

And  Luned  returned  home.  And  the  next  day  at 
noon,  Owain  arrayed  himself  in  a  coat  and  a  surcoat,  and 
a  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  upon  which  was  a  broad  band 
of  gold  lace;  and  on  his  feet  were  high  shoes  of  varie- 
gated leather,  which  were  fastened  by  golden  clasps,  in 
the  form  of  lions.  And  they  proceeded  to  the  chamber  of 
the  Countess. 

Right  glad  was  the  Countess  of  their  coming.  And 
she  gazed  steadfastly  upon  Owain,  and  said,  "Luned, 
this  knight  has  not  the  look  of  a  traveller."  "What 
harm  is  there  in  that,  lady?"  said  Luned.  "I  am  cer- 
tain," said  the  Countess,  "that  no  other  man  than  this 
chased  the  soul  from  the  body  of  my  lord."  "So  much 
the  better  for  thee,  lady,"  said  Luned,  "for  had  he  not 
been  stronger  than  thy  lord,  he  could  not  have  deprived 
him  of  life.  There  is  no  remedy  for  that  which  is  past, 
be  it  as  it  may."  "Go  back  to  thine  abode,"  said  the 
Countess,  "and  I  will  take  counsel." 

The  next  day  the  Countess  caused  all  her  subjects  to 


546  THE  MABINOGEON 

assemble,  and  showed  them  that  her  earldom  was  left 
defenceless,  and  that  it  could  not  be  protected  but  with 
horse  and  arms,  and  military  skill.  "Therefore/*  said 
she,  "this  is  what  I  offer  for  your  choice:  either  let  one 
of  you  take  me,  or  give  your  consent  for  me  to  take  a 
husband  from  elsewhere,  to  defend  my  dominions.'* 

So  they  came  to  the  determination  that  it  was  better 
that  she  should  have  permission  to  marry  some  one 
from  elsewhere ;  and  thereupon  she  sent  for  the  bishops 
and  archbishops,  to  celebrate  her  nuptials  with  Owain. 
And  the  men  of  the  earldom  did  Owain  homage. 

And  Owain  defended  the  fountain  with  lance  and 
sword.  And  this  is  the  manner  in  which  he  defended  it. 
Whensoever  a  knight  came  there,  he  overthrew  him, 
and  sold  him  for  his  full  worth.  And  what  he  thus 
gained  he  divided  among  his  barons  and  his  knights, 
and  no  man  in  the  whole  world  could  be  more  beloved 
than  he  was  by  his  subjects.  And  it  was  thus  for  the 
space  of  three  years.1 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  LADY  OF  THE   FOUNTAIN    (Continued) 

GAWAIN'S  ADVENTURE 

IT  befell  that,  as  Gawain  went  forth  one  day  with 
King  Arthur,  he  perceived  him  to  be  very  sad  and  sor- 
rowful. And  Gawain  was  much  grieved  to  see  Arthur 
in  his  state,  and  he  questioned  him,  saying,  "O  my 
lord,  what  has  befallen  thee?"  "In  sooth,  Gawain/'  said 
Arthur,  "I  am  grieved  concerning  Owain,  whom  I  have 

1  There  exists  an  ancient  poem,  printed  among  those  of  Taliesin,  called 
the  "Elegy  of  Owain  ap  Urien,"  and  containing  several  very  beautiful  and 
spirited  passages.  It  commences: 

"The  soul  of  Owain  ap  Urien, 
May  its  Lord  consider  its  exigencies! 
Reged's  chief  the  green  turf  covers." 

In  the  course  of  this  Elegy  the  bard,  alluding  to  the  incessant  warfare 
with  which  this  chieftain  harassed  his  Saxon  foes,  exclaims: 

MCould    England   sleep   with   the   light   upon   her   eyest  " 


1HE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          547 

lost  these  three  years;  and  I  shall  certainly  die  if  the 
fourth  year  pass  without  my  seeing  him.  Now  I  am 
sure  that  it  is  through  the  tale  which  Kynon,  the  son  of 
Clydno,  related,  that  I  have  lost  Owain."  "There  is  no 
need  for  thee,"  said  Gawain,  "to  summon  to  arms  thy 
whole  dominions  on  this  account,  for  thou  thyself,  and 
the  men  of  thy  household,  will  be  able  to  avenge  Owain 
if  he  be  slain  or  to  set  him  free  if  he  be  in  prison;  and, 
if  alive,  to  bring  him  back  with  thee."  And  it  was  set- 
tled according  to  what  Gawain  had  said. 

Then  Arthur  and  the  men  of  his  household  prepared 
to  go  and  seek  Owain.  And  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno, 
acted  as  their  guide.  And  Arthur  came  to  the  castle 
where  Kynon  had  been  before.  And  when  he  came 
there,  the  youths  were  shooting  in  the  same  place,  and 
the  yellow  man  was  standing  hard  by.  When  the  yel- 
low man  saw  Arthur,  he  greeted  him,  and  invited  him  to 
the  castle.  And  Arthur  accepted  his  invitation,  and 
they  entered  the  castle  together.  And  great  as  was  the 
number  of  his  retinue,  their  presence  was  scarcely  ob- 
served in  the  castle,  so  vast  was  its  extent.  And  the 
maidens  rose  up  to  wait  on  them.  And  the  service  of 
the  maidens  appeared  to  them  all  to  excel  any  attend- 
ance they  had  ever  met  with;  and  even  the  pages,  who 
had  charge  of  the  horses,  were  no  worse  served  that 
night  than  Arthur  himself  would  have  been  in  his  own 
palace. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  set  out  thence,  with  Kynon 
for  his  guide,  and  came  to  the  place  where  the  black 
man  was.  And  the  stature  of  the  black  man  was  more 
surprising  to  Arthur  than  it  had  been  represented  to  him. 
And  they  came  to  the  top  of  the  wooded  steep,  and  tra- 
versed the  valley,  till  they  reached  the  green  tree,  where 
they  saw  the  fountain  and  the  bowl  and  the  slab.  And 
upon  that  Kay  came  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to  him.  "My 
lord,"  said  he,  "I  know  the  meaning  of  all  this,  and  my 
request  is  that  thou  wilt  permit  me  to  throw  the  water 
on  the  slab,  and  to  receive  the  first  adventure  that  may 
befall."  And  Arthur  gave  him  leave. 

Then  Kay  threw  a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab, 
and  immediately  there  came  the  thunder,  and  after  the 


548  THE  MABTNOGEON 

thunder  the  shower.  And  such  a  thunder-storm  they 
had  never  known  before.  After  the  shower  had  ceased, 
the  sky  became  clear,  and  on  looking  at  the  tree,  they 
beheld  it  completely  leafless.  Then  the  birds  descended 
upon  the  tree.  And  the  song  of  the  birds  was  far 
sweeter  than  any  strain  they  had  ever  heard  before. 
Then  they  beheld  a  knight,  on  a  coal-black  horse,  clothed 
in  black  satin,  coming  rapidly  towards  them.  And  Kay 
met  him  and  encountered  him,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore Kay  was  overthrown.  And  the  knight  withdrew. 
And  Arthur  and  his  host  encamped  for  the  night. 

And  when  they  arose  in  the  morning,  they  perceived 
the  signal  of  combat  upon  the  lance  of  the  knight.  Then, 
one  by  one,  all  the  household  of  Arthur  went  forth  to 
combat  the  knight,  until  there  was  not  one  that  was  not 
overthrown  by  him,  except  Arthur  and  Gawain.  And 
Arthur  armed  himself  to  encounter  the  knight.  "O  my 
lord,"  said  Gawain,  "permit  me  to  fight  with  him  first." 
And  Arthur  permitted  him.  And  he  went  forth  to  meet  the 
knight,  having  over  himself  and  his  horse  a  satin  robe 
of  honor,  which  had  been  sent  him  by  the  daughter  of 
the  Earl  of  Rhangyr,  and  in  this  dress  he  was  not  known 
by  any  of  the  host.  And  they  charged  each  other,  and 
fought  all  that  day  until  the  evening.  And  neither  of 
them  was  able  to  unhorse  the  other.  And  so  it  was 
the  next  day;  they  broke  their  lances  in  the  shock,  but 
neither  of  them  could  obtain  the  mastery. 

And  the  third  day  they  fought  with  exceeding  strong 
lances.  And  they  were  incensed  with  rage,  and  fought 
furiously,  even  until  noon.  And  they  gave  each  other 
such  a  shock  that  the  girths  of  their  horses  were  broken, 
so  that  they  fell  over  their  horses'  cruppers  to  the 
ground.  And  they  rose  up  speedily  and  drew  their 
swords,  and  resumed  the  combat.  And  all  they  that  wit- 
nessed their  encounter  felt  assured  that  they  had  never 
before  seen  two  men  so  valiant  or  so  powerful.  And 
had  it  been  midnight,  it  would  have  been  light,  from  the 
fire  that  flashed  from  their  weapons.  And  the  knight 
gave  Gawain  a  blow  that  turned  his  helmet  from  off  his 
face,  so  that  the  knight  saw  that  it  was  Gawain.  Then 
Owain  said,  "My  lord  Gawain,  I  did  not  know  thee  for 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          549 

my  cousin,  owing  to  the  robe  of  honor  that  enveloped 
thee;  take  my  sword  and  my  arms."  Said  Gawain,  "Thou, 
Owain,  art  the  victor;  take  thou  my  sword."  And  with 
that  Arthur  saw  that  they  were  conversing,  and  ad- 
vanced toward  them.  "My  lord  Arthur,"  said  Gawain, 
"here  is  Owain  who  has  vanquished  me,  and  will  not 
take  my  arms."  "My  lord,"  said  Owain,  "it  is  he  that 
has  vanquished  me,  and  he  will  not  take  my  sword." 
"Give  me  your  swords,"  said  Arthur,  "and  then  neither 
of  you  has  vanquished  the  other."  Then  Owain  put  his 
arms  around  Arthur's  neck,  and  they  embraced.  And 
all  the  host  hurried  forward  to  see  Owain,  and  to  em- 
brace him.  And  there  was  nigh  being  a  loss  of  life,  so 
great  was  the  press. 

And  they  retired  that  night,  and  the  next  day  Arthur 
prepared  to  depart.  "My  lord,"  said  Owain,  "this  is 
not  well  of  thee.  For  I  have  been  absent  from  thee 
these  three  years,  and  during  all  that  time,  up  to  this 
very  day,  I  have  been  preparing  a  banquet  for  thee, 
knowing  that  thou  wouldst  come  to  seek  me.  Tarry 
with  me,  therefore,  until  thou  and  thy  attendants  have 
recovered  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  have  been 
anointed." 

And  they  all  proceeded  to  the  castle  of  the  Countess 
of  the  Fountain,  and  the  banquet  which  had  been  three 
years  preparing  was  consumed  in  three  months.  Never 
had  they  a  more  delicious  or  agreeable  banquet.  And 
Arthur  prepared  to  depart.  Then  he  sent  an  embassy 
to  the  Countess  to  beseech  her  to  permit  Owain  to  go 
with  him,  for  the  space  of  three  months,  that  he  might 
show  him  to  the  nobles  and  the  fair  dames  of  the  island 
of  Britain.  And  the  Countess  gave  her  consent,  al- 
though it  was  very  painful  to  her.  So  Owain  came  with 
Arthur  to  the  island  of  Britain.  And  when  he  was  once 
more  amongst  his  kindred  and  friends,  he  remained 
three  years,  instead  of  three  months,  with  them. 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE   LION 

And  as  Owain  one  day  sat  at  meat,  in  the  city  of  Caer- 
Icon  upon  Usk,  behold  a  damsel  entered  the  hall,  upon 


550  THE  MABINOGEON 

a  bay  horse,1  with  a  curling  mane,  and  covered  with 
foam;  and  the  bridle,  and  as  much  as  was  seen  of  the 
saddle,  were  of  gold.  And  the  damsel  was  arrayed  in  a 
dress  of  yellow  satin.  And  she  came  up  to  Owain,  and 
took  the  ring  from  off  his  hand.  "Thus,"  said  she,  "shall 
be  treated  the  deceiver,  the  traitor,  the  faithless,  the  dis- 
graced, and  the  beardless."  And  she  turned  her  horse's 
head  and  departed. 

Then  his  adventure  came  to  Owain's  remembrance, 
and  he  was  sorrowful.  And  having  finished  eating,  he 
went  to  his  own  abode,  and  made  preparations  that  night. 
And  the  next  day  he  arose,  but  did  not  go  to  the  court, 
nor  did  he  return  to  the  Countess  of  the  Fountain,  but 
wandered  to  the  distant  parts  of  the  earth  and  to  un- 
cultivated mountains.  And  he  remained  there  until  all  his 
apparel  was  worn  out,  and  his  body  was  wasted  away, 
and  his  hair  was  grown  long.  And  he  went  about  with 
the  wild  beasts,  and  fed  with  them,  until  they  became  fa- 
miliar with  him.  But  at  length  he  became  so  weak  that  he 
could  no  longer  bear  them  company.  Then  he  descended 
from  the  mountains  to  the  valley,  and  came  to  a  park, 
that  was  the  fairest  in  the  world,  and  belonged  to  a 
charitable  lady. 

One  day  the  lady  and  her  attendants  went  forth  to 
walk  by  a  lake  that  was  in  the  middle  of  the  park.  And 
they  saw  the  form  of  a  man,  lying  as  if  dead.  And 
they  were  terrified.  Nevertheless  they  went  near  him, 
and  touched  him,  and  they  saw  that  there  was  life  in 
him.  And  the  lady  returned  to  the  castle,  and  took  a 

1  The  custom  of  riding  into  a  hall  while  the  lord  and  his  guests  sat  at 
meat  might  be  illustrated  by  numerous  passages  of  ancient  romance  and 
history.  But  a  quotation  from  Chaucer's  beautiful  and  half-told  tale  oi 
"Cambuscan"  is  sufficient: 

"And  so  befell  that  after  the  thridde  cours, 
While  that  this  king  sat  thus  in  his  nobley, 
Herking  his  minstralles  thir  thinges  play, 
Beforne  him  at  his  bord  deliciously, 
In  at  the  halle  door  all  sodenly 
Ther  came  a  knight  upon  a  stede  of  bras, 
And   in   his   hond   a  brod   mirrour   of  glas; 
Upon   his  thombe   he   had   of   gold  a  ring, 
And   by    his   side   a   naked   sword   hanging; 
And   up   he   rideth   to   the   highe   bord. 
In  all  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word, 
For  mervaille  of  this  knight;   him  to  behold 
Full  besily   they  waiten,  young  and   old." 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN          551 

flask  full  of  precious  ointment  and  gave  it  to  one  of 
her  maidens.  "Go  with  this,"  said  she,  "and  take  with 
thee  yonder  horse,  and  clothing,  and  place  them  near  the 
man  we  saw  just  now ;  and  anoint  him  with  this  bal- 
sam near  his  heart;  and  if  there  is  life  in  him,  he  will 
revive,  through  the  efficiency  of  this  balsam.  Then 
watch  what  he  will  do." 

And  the  maiden  departed  from  her,  and  went  and 
poured  of  the  balsam  upon  Owain,  and  left  the  horse 
and  the  garments  hard  by,  and  went  a  little  way  off 
and  hid  herself  to  watch  him.  In  a  short  time,  she  saw 
him  begin  to  move;  and  he  rose  up,  and  looked  at  his 
person,  and  became  ashamed  of  the  unseemliness  of  his 
appearance.  Then  he  perceived  the  horse  and  the  gar- 
ments that  were  near  him.  And  he  clothed  himself, 
and  with  difficulty  mounted  the  horse.  Then  the  dam- 
sel discovered  herself  to  him,  and  saluted  him.  And 
he  and  the  maiden  proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  the 
maiden  conducted  him  to  a  pleasant  chamber,  and  kin- 
dled a  fire,  and  left  him. 

And  he  stayed  at  the  castle  three  months,  till  he  was 
restored  to  his  former  guise,  and  became  even  more 
comely  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  And  Owain  ren- 
dered signal  service  to  the  lady,  in  a  controversy  with 
a  powerful  neighbor,  so  that  he  made  ample  requital  to 
her  for  her  hospitality;  and  he  took  his  departure. 

And  as  he  journeyed  he  heard  a  loud  yelling  in  a 
wood.  And  it  was  repeated  a  second  and  a  third  time. 
And  Owain  went  towards  the  spot,  and  beheld  a  huge 
craggy  mound,  in  the  middle  of  the  wood,  on  the  side 
of  which  was  a  gray  rock.  And  there  was  a  cleft  in 
the  rock,  and  a  serpent  was  within  the  cleft.  And  near 
the  rock  stood  a  black  lion,  and  every  time  the  lion 
sought  to  go  thence  the  serpent  darted  towards  him  to 
attack  him.  And  Owain  unsheathed  his  sword,  and 
drew  near  to  the  rock ;  and  as  the  serpent  sprung  out  he 
struck  him  with  his  sword  and  cut  him  in  two.  And 
he  dried  his  sword,  and  went  on  his  way  as  before.  But 
behold  the  lion  followed  him,  and  played  about  him,  as 
though  it  had  been  a  greyhound  that  he  had  reared. 

They  proceeded  thus   throughout  the  day,   until   the 


552  THE  MABINOGEON 

evening.  And  when  it  was  time  for  Owain  to  take 
his  rest  he  dismounted,  and  turned  his  horse  loose  in  a 
flat  and  wooded  meadow.  And  he  struck  fire,  and  when 
the  fire  was  kindled,  the  lion  brought  him  fuel  enough 
to  last  for  three  nights.  And  the  lion  disappeared. 
And  presently  the  lion  returned,  bearing  a  fine  large 
roebuck.  And  he  threw  it  down  before  Owain,  who 
went  towards  the  fire  with  it. 

And  Owain  took  the  roebuck,  and  skinned  it,  and 
placed  collops  of  its  flesh  upon  skewers  round  the  fire. 
The  rest  of  the  buck  he  gave  to  the  lion  to  devour. 
While  he  was  so  employed,  he  heard  a  deep  groan  near 
him,  and  a  second,  and  a  third.  And  the  place  whence 
the  groans  proceeded  was  a  cave  in  the  rock ;  and  Owain 
went  near,  and  called  out  to  know  who  it  was  that 
groaned  so  piteously.  And  a  voice  answered,  "I  am 
Luned,  the  hand-maiden  of  the  Countess  of  the  Foun- 
tain." "And  what  dost  thou  here?"  said  he.  "I  am 
imprisoned,"  said  she,  "on  account  of  the  knight  who 
came  from  Arthur's  court,  and  married  the  Countess. 
And  he  staid  a  short  time  with  her,  but  he  afterwards 
departed  for  the  court  of  Arthur,  and  has  not  returned 
since.  And  two  of  the  Countess's  pages  traduced  him, 
and  called  him  a  deceiver.  And  because  I  said  I  would 
vouch  for  it  he  would  come  before  long  and  maintain 
his  cause  against  both  of  them,  they  imprisoned  me  in 
this  cave,  and  said  that  I  should  be  put  to  death,  unless 
he  came  to  deliver  me,  by  a  certain  day;  and  that  is  no 
further  off  than  to-morrow,  and  I  have  no  one  to  send 
to  seek  him  for  me.  His  name  is  Owain,  the  son  of 
Urien."  "And  art  thou  certain  that  if  that  knight  knew 
all  this,  he  would  come  to  thy  rescue?"  "I  am  most 
certain  of  it,"  said  she. 

When  the  collops  were  cooked,  Owain  divided  them 
into  two  parts,  between  himself  and  the  maiden,  and 
then  Owain  laid  himself  down  to  sleep;  and  never  did 
sentinel  keep  stricter  watch  over  his  lord  than  the  lion 
that  night  over  Owain. 

And  the  next  day  there  came  the  two  pages  with  a 
great  troop  of  attendants  to  take  Luned  from  her  cell, 
and  put  her  to  death.  And  Owain  asked  them  what 


GERAINT,   THE   SON    OF   ERBIN        553 

charge  they  had  against  her.  And  they  told  him  of  the 
compact  that  was  between  them;  as  the  maiden  had 
done  the  night  before.  "And,"  said  they,  "Owain  has 
failed  her,  therefore  we  are  taking  her  to  be  burnt." 
"Truly,"  said  Owain,  "he  is  a  good  knight;  and  if  he 
knew  that  the  maiden  was  in  such  peril,  I  marvel  that 
he  came  not  to  her  rescue.  But  if  you  will  accept  me 
in  his  stead,  I  will  do  battle  with  you."  "We  will,"  said 
the  youth. 

And  they  attacked  Owain,  and  he  was  hard  beset  by 
them.  And  with  that,  the  lion  came  to  Owain's  as- 
sistance, and  they  two  got  the  better  of  the  young  men. 
And  they  said  to  him,  "Chieftain,  it  was  not  agreed 
that  we  should  fight  save  with  thyself  alone,  and  it  is 
harder  for  us  to  contend  with  yonder  animal  than  with 
thee."  And  Owain  put  the  lion  in  the  place  where 
Luned  had  been  imprisoned,  and  blocked  up  the  door 
with  stones.  And  he  went  to  fight  with  the  young  men 
as  before.  But  Owain  had  not  his  usual  strength,  and 
the  two  youths  pressed  hard  upon  him.  And  the  lion 
roared  incessantly  at  seeing  Owain  in  trouble.  And  he 
brust  through  the  wall,  until  he  found  a  way  out,  and 
rushed  upon  the  young  men  and  instantly  slew  them.  So 
Luned  was  saved  from  being  burned. 

Then  Owain  returned  with  Luned  to  the  castle  of  the 
Lady  of  the  Fountain.  And  when  he  went  thence,  he 
took  the  Countess  with  him  to  Arthur's  court,  and  she 
was  his  wife  as  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER   V 

GERAINT,   THE   SON   OF   ERBIN 

ARTHUR  was  accustomed  to  hold  his  court  at  Caer- 
leon  upon  Usk.  And  there  he  held  it  seven  Easters  and 
five  Christmases.  And  once  upon  a  time  he  held  his 
court  there  at  Whitsuntide.  For  Caerleon  was  the  place 
most  easy  of  access  in  his  dominions,  both  by  sea  and 
by  land.  And  there  were  assembled  nine  crowned  kings, 


554  THE  MABINOGEON 

who  were  his  tributaries,  and  likewise  earls  and  barons. 
For  they  were  his  invited  guests  at  all  the  high  fes- 
tivals, unless  they  were  prevented  by  any  great  hinder- 
ance.  And  when  he  was  at  Caerleon  holding  his  court, 
thirteen  churches  were  set  apart  for  mass.  And  thus 
they  were  appointed:  one  church  for  Arthur  and  his 
kings,  and  his  guests ;  and  the  second  for  Guenever  and 
her  ladies;  and  the  third  for  the  steward  of  the  house- 
hold and  the  suitors;  and  the  fourth  for  the  Franks 
and  the  other  officers ;  and  the  other  nine  churches  were 
for  the  nine  masters  of  the  household,  and  chiefly  for 
Gawain,  for  he,  from  the  eminence  of  his  warlike  fame, 
and  from  the  nobleness  of  his  birth,  was  the  most  ex- 
alted of  the  nine.  And  there  was  no  other  arrangement 
respecting  the  churches  than  that  which  we  have  here 
mentioned. 

And  on  Whit-Tuesday,  as  the  king  sat  at  the  ban- 
quet, lo,  there  entered  a  tall,  fair-headed  youth,  clad  in 
a  coat  and  surcoat  of  satin,  and  a  golden-hilted  sword 
about  his  neck,  and  low  shoes  of  leather  upon  his  feet. 
And  he  came  and  stood  before  Arthur.  "Hail  to  thee, 
lord,"  said  he.  "Heaven  prosper  thee,"  he  answered, 
"and  be  thou  welcome.  Dost  thou  bring  any  new 
tidings?"  "I  do,  lord,"  he  said.  "I  am  one  of  thy 
foresters,  lord,  in  the  forest  of  Dean,  and  my  name  is 
Madoc,  son  of  Turgadarn.  In  the  forest  I  saw  a  stag, 
the  like  of  which  beheld  I  never  yet."  "What  is  there 
about  him,"  asked  Arthur,  "that  thou  never  yet  didst 
see  his  like?"  "He  is  of  pure  white,  lord,  and  he  does 
not  herd  with  any  other  animal,  through  stateliness  and 
pride,  so  royal  is  his  bearing.  And  I  come  to  seek 
thy  counsel,  lord,  and  to  know  thy  will  concerning  him." 
"It  seems  best  to  me,"  said  Arthur,  "to  go  and  hunt 
him  to-morrow  at  break  of  day,  and  to  cause  general 
notice  thereof  to  be  given  to-night,  in  all  quarters  of 
the  court." 

"For  Arthur  on  the  Whitsuntide  before 
Held  court  at  old  Caerleon  upon  Usk. 
There  on  a  day,  he  sitting  high  in  hall, 
Before  him  came  a  forester  of  Dean, 
Wet  from  the  woods,  with  notice  of  a  hart 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          555 

Taller  than  all  his  fellows,  milky-white, 
First  seen  that  day :  these  things  he  told  the  king. 
Then  the  good  king  gave  order  to  let  blow 
His  horns  for  hunting  on  the  morrow  morn." 

— Enid. 

And  Arryfuerys  was  Arthur's  chief  huntsman,  and 
Arelivri  his  chief  page.  And  all  received  notice;  and 
thus  it  was  arranged. 

Then  Guenever  said  to  Arthur,  "Wilt  thou  permit  me, 
lord,  to  go  to-morrow  to  see  and  hear  the  hunt  of  the 
stag  of  which  the  young  man  spoke?"  "I  will  gladly," 
said  Arthur.  And  Gawain  said  to  Arthur,  "Lord,  if  it 
seem  well  to  thee,  permit  that  into  whose  hunt  soever 
the  stag  shall  come,  that  one,  be  he  a  knight  or  one 
on  foot,  may  cut  off  his  head,  and  give  it  to  whom  he 
pleases,  whether  to  his  own  lady-love,  or  to  the  lady  of 
his  friend."  "I  grant  it  gladly,"  said  Arthur,  "and  let 
the  steward  of  the  household  be  chastised,  if  all  things 
are  not  ready  to-morrow  for  the  chase." 

And  they  passed  the  night  with  songs,  and  diversions, 
and  discourse,  and  ample  entertainment.  And  when  it 
was  time  for  them  all  to  go  to  sleep,  they  went.  And 
when  the  next  day  came,  they  arose.  And  Arthur  called 
the  attendants  who  guarded  his  couch.  And  there  were 
four  pages  whose  names  were  Cadyrnerth,  the  son  of 
Gandwy,  and  Ambreu,  the  son  of  Bedwor  and  Amhar, 
the  son  of  Arthur  and  Goreu,  the  son  of  Custennin. 
And  these  men  came  to  Arthur  and  saluted  him,  and 
arrayed  him  in  his  garments.  And  Arthur  wondered 
that  Guenever  did  not  awake,  and  the  attendants  wished 
to  awaken  her.  "Disturb  her  not,"  said  Arthur,  "for 
she  had  rather  sleep  than  go  to  see  the  hunting." 

Then  Arthur  went  forth,  and  he  heard  two  horns 
sounding,  one  from  near  the  lodging  of  the  chief  hunts- 
man, and  the  other  from  near  that  of  the  chief  page. 
And  the  whole  assembly  of  the  multitudes  came  to 
Arthur,  and  they  took  the  road  to  the  forest. 

And  after  Arthur  had  gone  forth  from  the  palace, 
Guenever  awoke,  and  called  to  her  maidens,  and  ap- 
paralled  herself.  "Maidens,"  said  she,  "I  had  leave  last 
night  to  go  and  see  the  hunt.  Go  one  of  you  to  the 


556  THE  MABINOGEON 

stable,  and  order  hither  a  horse  such  as  a  woman  may 
ride."  And  one  of  them  went,  and  she  found  but  two 
horses  in  the  stable;  and  Guenever  and  one  of  her 
maidens  mounted  them,  and  went  through  the  Usk,  and 
followed  the  track  of  the  men  and  the  horses.  And 
as  they  rode  thus,  they  heard  a  loud  and  rushing  sound ; 
and  they  looked  behind  them,  and  beheld  a  knight  upon 
a  hunter  foal  of  mighty  size.  And  the  rider  was  a  fair- 
haired  youth,  bare-legged,  and  of  princely  mien;  and  a 
golden-hilted  sword  was  at  his  side,  and  a  robe  and  a 
surcoat  of  satin  were  upon  him,  and  two  low  shoes  of 
leather  upon  his  feet;  and  around  him  was  a  scarf  of 
blue  purple,  at  each  corner  of  which  was  a  golden  apple. 

"For  Prince  Geraint, 
Late  also,  wearing  neither  hunting-dress 
Nor  weapon,  save  a  golden-hilted  brand, 
Came  quickly  flashing  through  the  shallow  ford." 

—Enid. 

And  his  horse  stepped  stately,  and  swift,  and  proud ;  and 
he  overtook  Guenever,  and  saluted  her.  "Heaven  pros- 
per thee,  Geraint,"  said  she;  "and  why  didst  thou  not 
go  with  thy  lord  to  hunt?"  "Because  I  knew  not  when 
he  went,"  said  he.  "I  marvel  too,"  said  she,  "how  he 
could  go,  unknown  to  me.  But  thou,  O  young  man,  art 
the  most  agreeable  companion  I  could  have  in  the  whole 
kingdom;  and  it  may  be  I  shall  be  more  amused  with 
the  hunting  than  they;  for  we  shall  hear  the  horns 
when  they  sound  and  we  shall  hear  the  dogs  when  they 
are  let  loose  and  begin  to  cry." 

So  they  went  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  there  they 
stood.  "From  this  place,"  said  she,  "we  shall  hear  when 
the  dogs  are  let  loose."  And  thereupon  they  heard  a 
loud  noise;  and  they  looked  towards  the  spot  whence 
it  came,  and  they  beheld  a  dwarf  riding  upon  a  horse, 
stately  and  foaming  and  prancing  and  strong  and  spirit- 
ed. And  in  the  hand  of  the  dwarf  was  a  whip.  And 
near  the  dwarf  they  saw  a  lady  upon  a  beautiful  white 
horse,  of  steady  and  stately  pace;  and  she  was  clothed 
in  a  garment  of  gold  brocade.  And  near  her  was  a 
knight  upon  a  war-horse  of  large  size,  with  heavy  and 


GERA1NT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          557 

bright  armor  both  upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse. 
And  truly  they  never  before  saw  a  knight,  or  a  horse, 
or  armor,  of  such  remarkable  size. 

"Geraint,"  said  Guenever,  "knowest  thou  the  name  of 
that  tall  knight  yonder?"  "I  know  him  not,"  said  he, 
"and  the  strange  armor  that  he  wears  prevents  my  either 
seeing  his  face  or  his  features."  "Go,  maiden,"  said 
Guenever,  "and  ask  the  dwarf  who  that  knight  is.'1' 
Then  the  maiden  went  up  to  the  dwarf;  and  she  in- 
quired of  the  dwarf  who  the  knight  was.  "I  will  not 
tell  thee,"  he  answered.  "Since  thou  art  so  churlish," 
said  she,  "I  will  ask  him,  himself."  "Thou  shalt  not 
ask  him,  by  my  faith,"  said  he.  "Wherefore  not?"  said 
she.  "Because  thou  art  not  of  honor  sufficient  to  befit 
thee  to  speak  to  my  lord."  Then  the  maiden  turned  her 
horse's  head  towards  the  knight,  upon  which  the  dwarf 
struck  her  with  the  whip  that  was  in  his  hand  across 
the  face  and  the  eyes,  so  that  the  blood  flowed  forth. 
And  the  maiden  returned  to  Guenever,  complaining  of 
the  hurt  she  had  received.  "Very  rudely  has  the  dwarf 
treated  thee,"  said  Geraint,  and  he  put  his  hand  upon 
the  hilt  of  his  sword.  But  he  took  counsel  with  him- 
self, and  considered  that  it  would  be  no  vengeance  for 
him  to  slay  the  dwarf,  and  to  be  attacked  unarmed  by 
the  armed  knight;  so  he  refrained. 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "I  will  follow  him,  with  thy  per- 
mission, and  at  last  he  will  come  to  some  inhabited 
place,  where  I  may  have  arms,  either  as  a  loan  or  for 
a  pledge,  so  that  I  may  encounter  the  knight."  "Go," 
said  she,  "and  do  not  attack  him  until  thou  hast  good 
arms ;  and  I  shall  be  very  anxious  concerning  thee,  until 
I  hear  tidings  of  thee."  "If  I  am  alive,"  said  he,  "thou 
shalt  hear  tidings  of  me  by  to-morrow  afternoon;"  and 
with  that  he  departed. 

And  the  road  they  took  was  below  the  palace  of  Caer- 
leon,  and  across  the  ford  of  the  Usk;  and  they  went 
along  a  fair  and  even  and  lofty  ridge  of  ground,  until 
they  came  to  a  town,  and  at  the  extremity  of  the  town 
they  saw  a  fortress  and  a  castle.  And  as  the  knight 
passed  through  the  town  all  the  people  arose  and  saluted 
him,  and  bade  him  welcome.  And  when  Geraint  came 


558  THE  MABINOGEON 

into  the  town,  he  looked  at  every  house  to  see  if  he 
knew  any  of  those  whom  he  saw.  But  he  knew  none, 
and  none  knew  him,  to  do  him  the  kindness  to  let  him 
have  arms,  either  as  a  loan  or  for  a  pledge.  And  every 
house  he  saw  was  full  of  men,  and  arms,  and  horses. 
And  they  were  polishing  shields,  and  burnishing  swords, 
and  washing  armor,  and  shoeing  horses.  And  the  knight 
and  the  lady  and  the  dwarf  rode  up  to  the  castle,  that 
was  in  the  town,  and  every  one  was  glad  in  the  castle. 
And  from  the  battlements  and  the  gates  they  risked  their 
necks,  through  their  eagerness  to  greet  them,  and  to 
show  their  joy. 

Geraint  stood  there  to  see  whether  the  knight  would 
remain  in  the  castle ;  and  when  he  was  certain  that  he 
would  do  so,  he  looked  around  him.  And  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  town  he  saw  an  old  palace  in  ruins, 
wherein  was  a  hall  that  was  falling  to  decay. 

"And  high  above  a  piece  of  turret-stair, 
Worn  by  the  feet  that  now  were  silent,  wound 
Bare  to  the  sun." 

— Enid. 

And  as  he  knew  not  any  one  in  the  town,  he  went 
towards  the  old  palace.  And  when  he  came  near  to 
the  palace,  he  saw  a  hoary-headed  man,  standing  by  it, 
in  tattered  garments.  And  Geraint  gazed  steadfastly 
upon  him.  Then  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  him, 
"Young  man,  wherefore  art  thou  thoughtful?"  "I  am 
thoughtful,"  said  he,  "because  I  know  not  where  to 
pass  the  night."  "Wilt  thou  come  forward  this  way, 
chieftain,"  said  he,  "and  thou  shalt  have  of  the  best 
that  can  be  procured  for  thee."  So  Geraint  went  for- 
ward. And  the  hoary-headed  man  led  the  way  into  the 
hall.  And  in  the  hall  he  dismounted,  and  he  left  there 
his  horse.  Then  he  went  on  to  the  upper  chamber  with 
the  hoary-headed  man.  And  in  the  chamber  he  beheld 
an  old  woman,  sitting  on  a  cushion,  with  old,  worn-out 
garments  upon  her;  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  must 
have  been  comely  when  in  the  bloom  of  youth.  And  be- 
side her  was  a  maiden,  upon  whom  were  a  vest  and  a 
veil  that  were  old  and  beginning  to  be  worn  out.  And 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          559 

truly  he  never  saw  a  maiden  more  full  of  comeliness 
and  grace  and  beauty  than  she.  And  the  hoary-headed 
man  said  to  the  maiden,  "There  is  no  attendant  for 
the  horse  of  this  youth  but  thyself."  "I  will  render  the 
best  service  I  am  able,"  said  she,  "both  to  him  and  to  his 
horse."  And  the  maiden  disarrayed  the  youth,  and  then 
she  furnished  his  horse  with  straw  and  corn ;  and  then 
she  returned  to  the  chamber.  And  the  hoary-headed  man 
said  to  the  maiden,  "Go  to  the  town  and  bring  hither 
the  best  that  thou  canst  find,  both  of  food  and  of 
liquor."  "I  will  gladly,  lord,"  said  she.  And  to  the 
town  went  the  maiden.  And  they  conversed  together 
while  the  maiden  was  at  the  town.  And,  behold,  the 
maiden  came  back,  and  a  youth  with  her,  bearing  on 
his  back  a  costrel  full  of  good  purchased  mead,  and  a 
quarter  of  a  young  bullock.  And  in  the  hands  of  the 
maiden  was  a  quantity  of  white  bread,  and  she  had  some 
manchet  bread  in  her  veil,  and  she  came  into  the  cham- 
ber. "I  would  not  obtain  better  than  this,"  said  she, 
"nor  with  better  should  I  have  been  trusted."  "It  is  good 
enough,"  said  Geraint.  And  they  caused  the  meat  to 
be  boiled;  and  when  their  food  was  ready,  they  sat 
down.  And  it  was  in  this  wise.  Geraint  sat  between 
the  hoary-headed  man  and  his  wife,  and  the  maidei' 
served  them.  And  they  ate  and  drank. 

And  when  they  had  finished  eating,  Geraint  talked 
with  the  hoary-headed  man,  and  he  asked  him  in  the 
first  place  to  whom  belonged  the  palace  that  he  was  in. 
"Truly,"  said  he,  "it  was  I  that  built  it,  and  to  me 
also  belonged  the  city  and  the  castle  which  thou  saw- 
est."  "Alas!"  said  Geraint,  "how  is  it  that  thou  hast 
lost  them  now?"  "I  lost  a  great  earldom  as  well  as 
these,"  said  he,  "and  this  is  how  I  lost  them.  I  had 
a  nephew,  the  son  of  my  brother,  and  I  took  care  of 
his  possessions ;  but  he  was  impatient  to  enter  upon 
them,  so  he  made  war  upon  me,  and  wrested  from  me 
not  only  his  own,  but  also  my  estates,  except  this  castle." 
"Good  sir,"  said  Geraint,  "wilt  thou  tell  me  wherefore 
came  the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the  dwarf  just  now 
into  the  town,  and  what  is  the  preparation  which  I  saw, 
and  the  putting  of  arms  in  order?"  "I  will  do  so," 


560  THE  MABINOGEON 

said  he.  "The  preparations  are  for  the  game  that  is 
to  be  held  to-morrow  by  the  young  earl,  which  will  be 
on  this  wise.  In  the  midst  of  a  meadow  which  is  here, 
two  forks  will  be  set  up,  and  upon  the  two  forks  a 
silver  rod,  and  upon  the  silver  rod  a  sparrow-hawk, 
and  for  the  sparrow-hawk  there  will  be  a  tournament. 
And  to  the  tournament  will  go  all  the  array  thou  didst  see 
in  the  city,  of  men  and  of  horses  and  of  arms.  And  with 
each  man  will  go  the  lady  he  loves  best;  and  no  man 
can  joust  for  the  sparrow-hawk,  except  the  lady  he  loves 
best  be  with  him.  And  the  knight  that  thou  sawest 
has  gained  the  sparrow-hawk  these  two  years;  and  if 
he  gains  it  the  third  year,  he  will  be  called  the  Knight 
of  the  Sparrow-hawk  from  that  time  forth."  "Sir," 
said  Geraint,  "what  is  thy  counsel  to  me  concerning  this 
knight,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  the  maiden  of 
Guenever  received  from  the  dwarf?"  And  Geraint  told 
the  hoary-headed  man  what  the  insult  was  that  the 
maiden  had  received.  "It  is  not  easy  to  counsel  thee, 
inasmuch  as  thou  hast  neither  dame  nor  maiden  be- 
longing to  thee,  for  whom  thou  canst  joust.  Yet  I 
have  arms  here,  which  thou  couldst  have,  and  there  is 
my  horse  also,  if  he  seem  to  thee  better  than  thine 
own."  "Ah,  sir,"  said  he,  "Heaven  reward  thee  I  But 
my  own  horse  to  which  I  am  accustomed,  together  with 
thine  arms,  will  suffice  me.  And  if,  when  the  appoint- 
ed time  shall  come  to-morrow  thou  wilt  permit  me, 
sir,  to  challenge  for  yonder  maiden  that  is  thy  daughter, 
I  will  engage,  if  I  escape  from  the  tournament,  to  love 
the  maiden  as  long  as  I  live."  "Gladly  will  I  permit 
thee,"  said  the  hoary-headed  man;  "and  since  thou  dost 
thus  resolve,  it  is  necessary  that  thy  horse  and  arms 
should  be  ready  to-morrow  at  break  of  day.  For  then 
the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  will  make  proclama- 
tion, and  ask  the  lady  he  loves  best  to  take  the  sparrow- 
hawk;  and  if  any  deny  it  to  her,  by  force  will  he  de- 
fend her  claim.  And  therefore,"  said  the  hoary-headed 
man,  "it  is  needful  for  thee  to  be  there  at  daybreak, 
and  we  three  will  be  with  thee."  And  thus  was  it 
settled. 
And  at  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  before  the 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          561 

dawn  they  arose  and  arrayed  themselves;  and  by  the 
time  that  it  was  day,  they  were  all  four  in  the  meadow. 
And  there  was  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  making 
the  proclamation,  and  asking  his  lady-love  to  take  the 
sparrow-hawk.  "Take  it  not,"  said  Geraint,  "for  here  is 
a  maiden  who  is  fairer,  and  more  noble,  and  more 
comely,  and  who  has  a  better  claim  to  it  than  thou." 
Then  said  the  knight,  "If  thou  maintainest  the  sparrow- 
hawk  to  be  due  to  her,  come  forward  and  do  battle 
with  me/'  And  Geraint  went  forward  to  the  top  of 
the  meadow,  having  upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse 
armor  which  was  heavy  and  rusty,  and  of  uncouth 
shape.  Then  they  encountered  each  other,  and  they 
broke  a  set  of  lances;  and  they  broke  a  second  set,  and 
a  third.  And  when  the  earl  and  his  company  saw  the 
Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk  gaining  the  mastery,  there 
was  shouting  and  joy  and  mirth  amongst  them ;  and  the 
hoary-headed  man  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter  were 
sorrowful.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  served  Geraint 
with  lances  as  often  as  he  broke  them,  and  the  dwarf 
served  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk.  Then  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  Geraint,  "O  chieftain,  since 
no  other  will  hold  with  thee,  behold,  here  is  the  lance 
which  was  in  my  hand  on  the  day  when  I  received  the 
honor  of  knighthood,  and  from  that  time  to  this  I  never 
broke  it,  and  it  has  an  excellent  point."  Then  Geraint 
took  the  lance,  thanking  the  hoary-headed  man.  And 
thereupon  the  dwarf  also  brought  a  lance  to  his  lord. 
"Behold,  here  is  a  lance  for  thee,  not  less  good  than  his," 
said  the  dwarf.  "And  bethink  thee  that  no  knight  ever 
withstood  thee  so  long  as  this  one  has  done."  "I  declare 
to  Heaven,"  said  Geraint,  "that  unless  death  takes  me 
quickly  hence,  he  shall  fare  never  the  better  for  thy 
service."  And  Geraint  pricked  his  horse  towards  him 
from  afar,  and,  warning  him,  he  rushed  upon  him,  and 
gave  him  a  blow  so  severe,  and  furious,  and  fierce,  upon 
the  face  of  his  shield,  that  he  cleft  it  in  two,  and  broke 
his  armor,  and  burst  his  girths,  so  that  both  he  and 
his  saddle  were  borne  to  the  ground  over  the  horse's 
crupper.  And  Geraint  dismounted  quickly.  And  he  was 
wroth,  and  he  drew  his  sword,  and  rushed  fiercely  upon 


562  THE  MABINOGEON 

him.  Then  the  knight  also  arose,  and  drew  his  sword 
against  Geraint.  And  they  fought  on  foot  with  their 
swords  until  their  arms  struck  sparks  of  fire  like  stars 
from  one  another;  and  thus  they  continued  fighting 
until  the  blood  and  sweat  obscured  the  light  from  their 
eyes.  At  length  Geraint  called  to  him  all  his  strength, 
and  struck  the  knight  upon  the  crown  of  his  head,  so 
that  he  broke  all  his  head-armor,  and  cut  through  all  the 
flesh  and  the  skin,  even  to  the  skull,  until  he  wounded 
the  bone. 

Then  the  knight  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cast  his 
sword  from  his  hand,  and  besought  mercy  from  Geraint. 
"Of  a  truth,"  said  he,  "I  relinquish  my  overdaring 
and  my  pride,  and  crave  thy  mercy;  and  unless  I  have 
time  to  commit  myself  to  Heaven  for  my  sins,  and  to 
talk  with  a  priest,  thy  mercy  will  avail  me  little."  "I 
will  grant  thee  grace  upon  this  condition,"  said  Geraint, 
"that  thou  go  to  Guenever,  the  wife  of  Arthur,  to  do 
her  satisfaction  for  the  insult  which  her  maiden  re- 
ceived from  thy  dwarf.  Dismount  not  from  the  time 
thou  goest  hence  until  thou  comest  into  the  presence  of 
Guenever,  to  make  her  what  atonement  shall  be  ad- 
judged at  the  court  of  Arthur."  "This  will  I  do  gladly ; 
and  who  art  thou?"  "I  am  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin; 
and  declare  thou  also  who  thou  art:"  "I  am  Edeyrn, 
the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  he  threw  himself  upon  his 
horse,  and  went  forward  to  Arthur's  court;  and  the 
lady  he  loved  best  went  before  him,  and  the  dwarf,  with 
much  lamentation. 

Then  came  the  young  earl  and  his  hosts  to  Geraint, 
and  saluted  him,  and  bade  him  to  his  castle.  "I  may 
not  go,"  said  Geraint;  "but  where  I  was  last  night, 
there  will  I  be  to-night  also."  "Since  thou  wilt  none  of 
my  inviting,  thou  shalt  have  abundance  of  all  that  I 
can  command  for  thee;  and  I  will  order  ointment  for 
thee,  to  recover  thee  from  thy  fatigues,  and  from  the 
weariness  that  is  upon  thee."  "Heaven  reward  thee," 
said  Geraint,  "and  I  will  go  to  my  lodging."  And  thus 
went  Geraint  and  Earl  Ynywl,  and  his  wife  and  his 
daughter.  And  when  they  reached  the  old  mansion,  the 
household  servants  and  attendants  of  the  young  earl 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          563 

had  arrived,  and  had  arranged  all  the  apartments,  aress- 
ing  them  with  straw  and  with  fire;  and  in  a  short  time 
the  ointment  was  ready,  and  Geraint  came  there,  and 
they  washed  his  head.  Then  came  the  young  earl,  with 
forty  honorable  knights  from  among  his  attendants,  and 
those  who  were  bidden  to  the  tournament.  And  Geraint 
came  from  the  anointing.  And  the  earl  asked  him  to 
go  to  the  hall  to  eat.  "Where  is  the  Earl  Ynywl,"  said 
Geraint,  "and  his  wife  and  his  daughter?"  "They  are 
in  the  chamber  yonder,"  said  the  earl's  chamberlain, 
"arraying  themselves  in  garments  which  the  earl  has 
caused  to  be  brought  for  them."  "Let  not  the  damsel 
array  herself,"  said  he,  "except  in  her  vest  and  her  veil, 
until  she  come  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  to  be  clad  by 
Guenever  in  such  garments  as  she  may  choose."  So 
the  maiden  did  not  array  herself. 

Then  they  all  entered  the  hall,  and  they  washed,  and 
sat  down  to  meat.  And  thus  were  they  seated.  On 
one  side  of  Geraint  sat  the  young  earl,  and  Earl  Ynywl 
beyond  him,  and  on  the  other  side  of  Geraint  was  the 
maiden  and  her  mother.  And  after  these  all  sat  ac- 
cording to  their  precedence  in  honor.  And  they  ate. 
And  they  were  served  abundantly,  and  they  received  a 
profusion  of  divers  kinds  of  gifts.  Then  they  con- 
versed together.  And  the  young  earl  invited  Geraint  to 
visit  him  next  day.  "I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  Ge- 
raint. "To  the  court  of  Arthur  will  I  go  with  this 
maiden  to-morrow.  And  it  is  enough  for  me,  as  long  as 
Earl  Ynywl  is  in  poverty  and  trouble;  and  I  go  chiefly 
to  seek  to  add  to  his  maintenance."  "Ah,  chieftain," 
said  the  young  earl,  "it  is  not  by  my  fault  that  Earl 
Ynywl  is  without  his  possessions."  "By  my  faith,"  said 
Geraint,  "he  shall  not  remain  without  them,  unless  death 
quickly  takes  me  hence."  "O  chieftain,"  said  he,  "with 
regard  to  the  disagreement  between  me  and  Ynywl,  I 
will  gladly  abide  by  thy  counsel,  and  agree  to  what  thou 
mayest  judge  right  between  us."  "I  but  ask  thee,"  said 
Geraint,  "to  restore  to  him  what  is  his,  and  what  he 
should  have  received  from  the  time  he  lost  his  posses- 
sions even  until  this  day."  "That  will  I  do,  gladly,  for 
thee,"  answered  he.  "Then,"  said  Geraint,  "whosoever 


564  THE  MABINOGEON 

is  here  who  owes  homage  to  Ynywl,  let  him  come  for- 
ward, and  perform  it  on  the  spot."  And  all  the  men 
did  so;  and  by  that  treaty  they  abided.  And  his  castle 
and  his  town,  and  all  his  possessions,  were  restored  to 
Ynywl.  And  he  received  back  all  that  he  had  lost,  ever 
to  the  smallest  jewel. 

Then  spoke  Karl  Ynywl  to  Geraint.  "Chieftain,"  said 
he,  "behold  the  maiden  for  whom  thou  didst  challenge 
at  the  tournament;  I  bestow  her  upon  thee."  "She  shall 
go  with  me,"  said  Geraint,  "to  the  court  of  Arthur,  and 
Arthur  and  Guenever,  they  shall  dispose  of  her  as  they 
will."  And  the  next  day  they  proceeded  to  Arthur's 
court.  So  far  concerning  Geraint. 


CHAPTER   VI 

GERAINT,   THE   SON    OF    ERBIN    (Continued) 

Now  this  is  how  Arthur  hunted  the  stag.  The  men 
and  the  dogs  were  divided  into  hunting-parties,  and  the 
dogs  were  let  loose  upon  the  stag.  And  the  last  dog 
that  was  let  loose  was  the  favorite  dog  of  Arthur;  Cavall 
was  his  name.  And  he  left  all  the  other  dogs  behind 
him  and  turned  the  stag.  And  at  the  second  turn  the 
stag  came  toward  the  hunting-party  of  Arthur.  And 
Arthur  set  upon  him;  and  before  he  could  be  slain  by 
any  other,  Arthur  cut  off  his  head.  Then  they  sounded 
the  death-horn  for  slaying  and  they  all  gathered  round. 

They  came  Kadyriath  to  Arthur  and  spoke  to  him. 
"Lord,"  said  he,  "behold,  yonder  is  Guenever,  and  none 
with  her  save  only  one  maiden."  "Command  Gildas, 
the  son  of  Caw,  and  all  the  scholars  of  the  court,"  said 
Arthur,  "to  attend  Guenever  to  the  palace."  And  they 
did  so. 

Then  they  all  set  forth,  holding  converse  together  con- 
cerning the  head  of  the  stag,  to  whom  it  should  be 
given.  One  wished  that  it  should  be  given  to  the  lady 
best  beloved  by  him,  and  another  to  the  lady  whom  he 
loved  best.  And  so  they  came  to  the  palace.  And  when 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          565 

Arthur  and  Guenever  heard  them  disputing  about  the 
head  of  the  stag,  Guenever  said  to  Arthur:  "My  lord, 
this  is  my  counsel  concerning  the  stag's  head;  let  it  not 
be  given  away  until  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  shall  re- 
turn from  the  errand  he  is  upon."  And  Guenever  told 
Arthur  what  that  errand  was.  "Right  gladly  shall  it  be 
so,"  said  Arthur.  And  Guenever  caused  a  watch  to  be 
set  upon  the  ramparts  for  Geraint's  coming.  And  after 
midday  they  beheld  an  unshapely  little  man  upon  a  horse, 
and  after  him  a  dame  or  a  damsel,  also  on  horseback, 
and  after  her  a  knight  of  large  stature,  bowed  down, 
and  hanging  his  head  low  and  sorrowfully,  and  clad  in 
broken  and  worthless  armor. 

And  before  they  came  near  to  the  gate  one  of  the 
watch  went  to  Guenever,  and  told  her  what  kind  of 
people  they  saw,  and  what  aspect  they  bore.  "I  know 
not  who  they  are,"  said  he,  "But  /  know,"  said  Guen- 
ever; "this  is  the  knight  whom  Geraint  pursued,  and 
methinks  that  he  comes  not  here  by  his  own  free  will. 
But  Geraint  has  overtaken  him,  and  avenged  the  insult 
to  the  maiden  to  the  uttermost."  And  thereupon,  behold, 
a  porter  came  to  the  spot  where  Guenever  was.  "Lady," 
said  he,  "at  the  gate  there  is  a  knight,  and  I  saw  never 
a  man  of  so  pitiful  an  aspect  to  look  upon  as  he.  Mis- 
erable and  broken  is  the  armor  that  he  wears,  and  the 
hue  of  blood  is  more  conspicuous  upon  it  than  its  own 
color."  "Knowest  thou  his  name?"  said  she.  "I  do," 
said  he;  "he  tells  me  that  he  is  Edeyrn,  the  son  of 
Nudd."  Then  she  replied,  "I  know  him  not." 

So  Guenever  went  to  the  gate  to  meet  him  and  he 
entered.  And  Guenever  was  sorry  when  she  saw  the 
condition  he  was  in,  even  though  he  was  accompanied  by 
the  churlish  dwarf.  Then  Edeyrn  saluted  Guenever. 
"Heaven  protect  thee,"  said  she.  "Lady,"  said  he, 
"Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  thy  best  and  most  valiant 
servant,  greets  thee."  "Did  he  meet  with  thee?"  she 
asked.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "and  it  was  not  to  my  advan- 
tage; and  that  was  not  his  fault,  but  mine,  lady.  And 
Geraint  greets  thee  well;  and  in  greeting  thee  he  com- 
pelled me  to  come  hither  to  do  thy  pleasure  for  the  in- 
sult which  thy  maiden  receiver1  from  the  dwarf."  "Now 


566  THE  MABINOGEON 

where  did  he  overtake  thee?"  "At  the  place  where  we 
were  jousting  and  contending  for  the  sparrow-hawk,  in 
the  town  which  is  now  called  Cardiff.  And  it  was  for 
the  avouchment  of  the  love  of  the  maiden,  the  daughter 
of  Earl  Ynywl,  that  Geraint  jousted  at  the  tournament. 
And  thereupon  we  encountered  each  other,  and  he  left 
me,  lady,  as  thou  seest."  "Sir,"  said  she,  "when  think- 
est  thou  that  Geraint  will  be  here?"  "To-morrow,  lady, 
I  think  he  will  be  here  with  the  maiden." 

Then  Arthur  came  to  them.  And  he  saluted  Arthur, 
and  Arthur  gazed  a  long  time  upon  him  and  was  amazed 
to  see  him  thus.  And  thinking  that  he  knew  him,  he 
inquired  of  him,  "Art  thou  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd?" 
"I  am,  lord,"  said  he,  "and  I  have  met  with  much  trou- 
ble and  received  wounds  unsupportable."  Then  he  told 
Arthur  all  his  adventure.  "Well,"  said  Arthur,  "from 
what  I  hear  it  behooves  Guenever  to  be  merciful  towards 
thee."  "The  mercy  which  thou  desirest,  lord,"  said  she. 
"will  I  grant  to  him,  since  it  is  as  insulting  to  thee  that 
an  insult  should  be  offered  to  me  as  to  thyself."  "Thus 
will  it  be  best  to  do,"  said  Arthur;  "let  this  man  have 
medical  care  until  it  be  known  whether  he  may  live. 
And  if  he  live,  he  shall  do  such  satisfaction  as  shall  be 
judged  best  by  the  men  of  the  court.  And  if  he  die, 
too  much  will  be  the  death  of  such  a  youth  as  Edeyrn 
for  an  insult  to  a  maiden."  "This  pleases  me,"  said 
Guenever.  And  Arthur  caused  Morgan  Tud  to  be  called 
to  him.  He  was  the  chief  physician.  "Take  with  thee 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  and  cause  a  chamber  to  be 
prepared  for  him,  and  let  him  have  the  aid  of  medi- 
cine as  thou  wouldst  do  unto  myself,  if  I  were  wounded: 
and  let  none  into  his  chamber  to  molest  him,  but  thy- 
self and  thy  disciples,  to  administer  to  him  remedies." 
"I  will  do  so,  gladly,  lord/'  said  Morgan  Tud.  Then 
said  the  steward  of  the  household,  "Whither  is  it  right, 
lord,  to  order  the  maiden?"  "To  Guenever  and  her 
handmaidens,"  said  he.  And  the  steward  of  the  house- 
hold so  ordered  her. 

"And  rising  up,  he  rode  to  Arthur's  court, 
And  there  the  queen  forgave  him  easily. 
And  being  young,  he  changed  himself,  and  grew 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          567 

To  hate  the  sin  that  seem'd  so  like  his  own 
Of  Modred,  Arthur's  nephew,  and  fell  at  last 
In  the  great  battle  fighting  for  the  king." 

— Enid. 

The  next  day  came  Geraint  towards  the  court;  and 
there  was  a  watch  set  on  the  ramparts  by  Guenever, 
lest  he  should  arrive  unawares.  And  one  of  the  watch 
came  to  Guenever.  "Lady,"  said  he,  "methinks  that  I 
see  Geraint,  and  a  maiden  with  him.  He  is  on  horse- 
back, but  he  has  his  walking  gear  upon  him,  and  the 
maiden  appears  to  be  in  white,  seeming  to  be  clad  in 
a  garment  of  linen.  "Assemble  all  the  women,"  said 
Guenever,  "and  come  to  meet  Geraint,  to  welcome  him, 
and  wish  him  joy."  And  Guenever  went  to  meet  Ge- 
raint and  the  maiden.  And  when  Geraint  came  to  the 
place  where  Guenever  was,  he  saluted  her.  "Heaven 
prosper  thee,"  said  she,  "and  welcome  to  thee."  "Lady," 
said  he,  "I  earnestly  desired  to  obtain  thee  satisfaction, 
according  to  thy  will;  and,  behold,  here  is  the  maiden 
through  whom  thou  hadst  thy  revenge."  "Verily,"  said 
Guenever,  "the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto  her;  and  it 
is  fitting  that  we  should  receive  her  joyfully."  Then 
they  went  in  and  dismounted.  And  Geraint  came  to 
where  Arthur  was,  and  saluted  him.  "Heaven  protect 
thee,"  said  Arthur,  "and  the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto 
thee.  And  inasmuch  as  thou  hast  vanquished  Edeyrn. 
the  son  of  Nudd,  thou  hast  had  a  prosperous  career." 
"Not  upon  me  be  the  blame,"  said  Geraint;  "it  was 
through  the  arrogance  of  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  him- 
self, that  we  were  not  friends."  "Now,"  said  Arthur, 
"where  is  the  maiden  for  whom  I  heard  thou  didst  give 
challenge?"  "She  is  gone  with  Guenever  to  her  cham- 
ber." Then  went  Arthur  to  see  the  maiden.  And  Ar- 
thur, and  all  his  companions,  and  his  whole  court,  were 
glad  concerning  the  maiden.  And  certain  were  they  all, 
that,  had  her  array  been  suitable  to  her  beauty,  they  had 
never  seen  a  maid  fairer  than  she.  And  Arthur  gave 
away  the  maiden  to  Geraint.  And  the  usual  bond  made 
between  two  persons  was  made  between  Geraint  and 
the  maiden,  and  the  choicest  of  all  Guenever's  apparel 
was  given  to  the  maiden;  and  thus  arrayed,  she  ap 


168  THE  MABINOGEON 

>eared  comely  and  graceful  to  all  who  beheld  her.  And 
hat  day  and  the  night  were  spent  in  abundance  of  min- 
trelsy,  and  ample  gifts  of  liquor,  and  a  multiude  of 
Barnes.  And  when  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  to  sleep 
hey  went.  And  in  the  chamber  where  the  couch  of 
Vrthur  and  Guenever  was,  the  couch  of  Geraint  and 
Lnid  was  prepared.  And  from  that  time  she  became 
iis  wife.  And  the  next  day  Arthur  satisfied  all  the 
laimants  upon  Geraint  with  bountiful  gifts.  And  the 
naiden  took  up  her  abode  in  the  palace,  and  she  had 
nany  companions,  both  men  and  women,  and  there 
vas  no  maiden  more  esteemed  than  she  in  the  island  of 
Britain. 

Then  spake  Guenever.  "Rightly  did  I  judge,"  said 
he,  "concerning  the  head  of  the  stag,  that  it  should 
lot  be  given  to  any  until  Geraint's  return;  and  behold, 
lere  is  a  fit  occasion  for  bestowing  it.  Let  it  be  given 
o  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl,  the  most  illustrious 
naiden.  And  I  do  not  believe  that  any  will  begrudge 
t  her,  for  between  her  and  every  one  here  there  exists 
lothing  but  love  and  friendship."  Much  applauded  was 
his  by  them  ell,  and  by  Arthur  also.  And  the  head  of 
he  stag  was  given  to  Enid.  And  thereupon  her  fame 
ncreased,  and  her  friends  became  more  in  number  than 
>efore.  And  Geraint  from  that  time  forth  loved  the 
mnt,  and  the  tournament,  and  hard  encounters;  and  he 
:ame  victorious  from  them  all.  And  a  year,  and  a  sec- 
)nd,  and  a  third,  he  proceeded  thus,  until  his  fame 
lad  flown  over  the  face  of  the  kingdom. 

And,  once  upon  a  time,  Arthur  was  holding  his  court 
it  Caerleon  upon  Usk;  and  behold,  there  came  to  him 
imbassadors,  wise  and  prudent,  full  of  knowledge  and 
eloquent  of  speech,  and  they  saluted  Arthur.  "Heaven 
>rosper  you!"  said  Arthur;  "and  whence  do  you  come?" 
'We  come,  lord,"  said  they,  "from  Cornwall ;  and  we  are 
imbassadors  from  Erbin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  thy 
mcle,  and  our  mission  is  unto  thee.  And  he  greets  thee 
veil,  as  an  uncle  should  greet  his  nephew,  and  as  a  vas- 
sal should  greet  his  lord.  And  he  represents  unto  thee 
hat  he  waxes  heavy  and  feeble,  and  is  advancing  in 
fears.  And  the  neighboring  chiefs,  knowing  this,  grow 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN  569 

insolent  towards  him,  and  covet  his  land  and  posses- 
sions. And  he  earnestly  beseeches  thee,  lord,  to  per- 
mit Geraint,  his  son,  to  return  to  him,  to  protect  his 
possessions,  and  to  become  acquainted  with  his  bounda- 
ries. And  unto  him  he  represents  that  it  were  better 
for  him  to  spend  the  flower  of  his  youth  and  the  prime 
of  his  age  in  preserving  his  own  boundaries,  than  in 
tournaments  which  are  productive  of  no  profit,  although 
he  obtains  glory  in  them." 

"Well,"  said  Arthur,  "go  and  divest  yourselves  of 
your  accoutrements,  and  take  food,  and  refresh  your- 
selves after  your  fatigues;  and  before  you  go  from 
hence  you  shall  have  an  answer."  And  they  went  to 
eat.  And  Arthur  considered  that  it  would  go  hard  with 
him  to  let  Geraint  depart  from  him,  and  from  his  court ; 
neither  did  he  think  it  fair  that  his  cousin  should  be 
restrained  from  going  to  protect  his  dominions  and  his 
boundaries,  seeing  that  his  father  was  unable  to  do  so. 
No  less  was  the  grief  and  regret  of  Guenever,  and  all 
her  women,  and  all  her  damsels,  through  fear  that  the 
maiden  would  leave  them.  And  that  day  and  that  night 
were  spent  in  abundance  of  feasting.  And  Arthur  told 
Geraint  the  cause  of  the  mission,  and  of  the  coming  of 
the  ambassadors  to  him  out  of  Cornwall.  "Truly,"  said 
Geraint,  "be  it  to  my  advantage  or  disadvantage,  lord,  I 
will  do  according  to  thy  will  concerning  this  embassy." 
"Behold,"  said  Arthur,  "though  it  grieves  me  to  part  with 
thee,  it  is  my  counsel  that  thou  go  to  dwell  in  thine 
own  dominions,  and  to  defend  thy  boundaries,  and  take 
with  thee  to  accompany  thee  as  many  as  thou  wilt  of 
those  thou  lovest  best  among  my  faithful  ones,  and 
among  thy  friends,  and  among"  thy  companions  in 
arms."  "Heaven  reward  thee!  and  this  will  I  do," 
said  Geraint.  "What  discourse,"  said  Guenever,  "do 
I  hear  between  you  ?  Is  it  of  those  who  are  to  conduct 
Geraint  to  his  country?"  "It  is,"  said  Arthur.  "Then 
is  it  needful  for  me  to  consider,"  said  she,  "concerning 
companions  and  a  provision  for  the  lady  that  is  with 
me."  "Thou  wilt  do  well,"  said  Arthur. 

And  that  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  the  next  day 
the  ambassadors  were  permitted  to  depart,  and  they 


570  THE  MABINOGEON 

were  told  that  Geraint  should  follow  them.  And  on 
the  third  day  Geraint  set  forth,  and  many  went  with 
him — Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  and  Riogoned,  the 
son  of  the  king  of  Ireland,  and  Ondyaw,  the  son  of 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  Gwilim,  the  son  of  the  ruler 
of  the  Franks,  Howel,  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Brit- 
tany, Perceval,  the  son  of  Evrawk,  Gwyr,  a  judge  in 
the  court  of  Arthur,  Bedwyr,  the  son  of  Bedrawd,  Kai, 
the  son  of  Kyner,  Odyar,  the  Frank,  and  Ederyn,  the 
son  of  Nudd.  Said  Geraint,  "I  think  I  shall  have  enough 
of  knighthood  with  me."  And  they  set  forth.  And 
never  was  there  seen  a  fairer  host  journeying  towards 
the  Severn.  And  on  the  other  side  of  the  Severn  were 
the  nobles  of  Erbin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  and  his  fos- 
ter-father at  their  head,  to  welcome  Geraint  with  glad- 
ness; and  many  of  the  women  of  the  court,  with  his 
mother,  came  to  receive  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl, 
his  wife.  And  there  was  great  rejoicing  and  gladness 
throughout  the  whole  court,  and  through  all  the  coun- 
try, concerning  Geraint,  because  of  the  greatness  of 
their  love  to  him,  and  of  the  greatness  of  the  fame  which 
he  had  gained  since  he  went  from  amongst  them,  and 
because  he  was  come  to  take  possession  of  his  domin- 
ions, and  to  preserve  his  boundaries.  And  they  came  to 
the  court.  And  in  the  court  they  had  ample  entertain- 
ment, and  a  multitude  of  gifts,  and  abundance  of  liquor, 
and  a  sufficiency  of  service,  and  a  variety  of  games. 
And  to  do  honor  to  Geraint,  all  the  chief  men  of  the 
country  were  invited  that  night  to  visit  him.  And  they 
passed  that  day  and  that  night  in  the  utmost  enjoyment. 
And  at  dawn  next  day  Erbin  arose  and  summoned  to 
him  Geraint,  and  the  noble  persons  who  had  borne  him 
company.  And  he  said  to  Geraint:  "I  am  a  feeble  and 
an  aged  man,  and  whilst  I  was  able  to  maintain  the  do- 
minion for  thee  and  for  myself,  I  did  so.  But  thou  art 
young,  and  in  the  flower  of  thy  vigor  and  of  thy  youth. 
Henceforth  do  thou  preserve  thy  possessions."  "Truly," 
said  Geraint,  "with  my  consent  thou  shalt  not  give  the 
power  over  thy  dominions  at  this  time  into  my  hands, 
and  thou  shalt  not  take  me  from  Arthur's  court."  "Into 
thy  hands  will  I  give  them,"  said  Erbin,  "and  this  day 


GERAINT,  THE  SON  OF  ERBIN          571 

also  shalt  thou  receive  the  homage  of  thy  subjects." 
Then  said  Gawain,  "It  were  better  for  thee  to  satisfy 
those  who  have  boons  to  ask,  to-day,  and  to-morrow 
thou  canst  receive  the  homage  of  thy  dominions."  So 
all  that  had  boons  to  ask  were  summoned  into  one  place. 
And  Kadyriath  came  to  them  to  know  what  were  their 
requests.  And  every  one  asked  that  which  he  desired. 
And  the  followers  of  Arthur  began  to  make  gifts,  and 
immediately  the  men  of  Cornwall  came,  and  gave  also. 
And  they  were  not  long  in  giving,  so  eager  was  every 
one  to  bestow  gifts,  and  of  those  who  came  to  ask  gifts, 
none  departed  unsatisfied.  And  that  day  and  that  night 
were  spent  in  the  utmost  enjoyment. 

And  the  next  day  at  dawn,  Erbin  desired  Geraint  to 
send  messengers  to  the  men  to  ask  them  whether  it  was 
displeasing  to  them  that  he  should  come  to  receive  their 
homage,  and  whether  they  had  anything  to  object  to 
him.  Then  Geraint  sent  ambassadors  to  the  men  of 
Cornwall  to  ask  them  this.  And  they  all  said  that  it 
would  be  the  fulness  of  joy  and  honor  to  them  for  Ge- 
raint to  come  and  receive  their  homage.  So  he  received 
the  homage  of  such  as  were  there.  And  the  day  after 
the  followers  of  Arthur  intended  to  go  away.  "It  is  too 
soon  for  you  to  go  away  yet,"  said  he ;  "stay  with  me  until 
I  have  finished  receiving  the  homage  of  my  chief  men, 
who  have  agreed  to  come  to  me."  And  they  remained 
with  him  until  he  had  done  so.  Then  they  set  forth  to- 
wards the  court  of  Arthur.  And  Geraint  went  to  bear 
them  company,  and  Enid  also,  as  far  as  Diganwy;  there 
they  parted.  And  Ondyaw,  the  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  said  to  Geraint,  "Go,  now,  and  visit  the  ut- 
termost parts  of  thy  dominions,  and  see  well  to  the 
boundaries  of  thy  territories ;  and  if  thou  hast  any  trou- 
ble respecting  them,  send  unto  thy  companions."  "Heav- 
en reward  thee!"  said  Geraint;  "and  this  will  I  do." 
And  Geraint  journeyed  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  his  do- 
minions. And  experienced  guides,  and  the  chief  men  of 
his  country,  went  with  him.  And  the  furthermost  point 
that  they  showed  him  he  kept  possession  of. 


572  THE  MABINOGEON 

CHAPTER  VII 

GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN    (Continued) 

GERAINT,  as  he  had  been  used  to  do  when  he  was 
at  Arthur's  court,  frequented  tournaments.  And  he  be- 
came acquainted  with  valiant  and  mighty  men,  until  he 
had  gained  as  much  fame  there  as  he  had  formerly 
done  elsewhere.  And  he  enriched  his  court,  and  his 
companions,  and  his  nobles,  with  the  best  horses  and 
the  best  arms,  and  with  the  best  and  most  valuable 
jewels,  and  he  ceased  not  until  his  fame  had  flown  over 
the  face  of  the  whole  kingdom. 

"Before  Geraint,  the  scourge  of  the  enemy, 
I  saw  steeds  white  with  foam, 
And  after  the  shout  of  battle  a  fearful  torrent." 

— Hen. 

When  he  knew  that  it  was  thus,  he  began  to  love  ease 
and  pleasure,  for  there  was  no  one  who  was  worth  his 
opposing.  And  he  loved  his  wife,  and  liked  to  continue 
in  the  palace  with  minstrelsy  and  diversions.  So  he 
began  to  shut  himself  up  in  the  chamber  of  his  wife, 
and  he  took  no  delight  in  anything  besides,  insomuch 
that  he  gave  up  the  friendship  of  his  nobles,  together 
with  his  hunting  and  his  amusements,  and  lost  the  hearts 
of  all  the  host  in  his  court.  And  there  was  murmuring 
and  scoffing  concerning  him  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  palace,  on  account  of  his  relinquishing  so  completely 
their  companionship  for  the  love  of  h;  wife. 

"They 

Began  to  scoff  and  jeer  and  b-»6ble  of  him 
As  of  a  prince  whose  manhood  was  all  gone, 
And  molten  down  in  mere  uxoriousness." 

These  tidings  came  to  Erbin.  And  when  Erbiti  had 
heard  these  things,  he  spoke  unto  Enid,  and  inquired  of 
her  whether  it  was  she  that  had  caused  Geraint  to  act 
thus,  and  to  forsake  his  people  and  his  hosts.  "Not  I, 


GERAINT,   THE   SON    OF   ERBIN        573 

by  my  confession  unto  Heaven,"  said  she;  "there  is 
nothing  more  hateful  unto  me  than  this,"  And  she  knew 
not  what  she  should  do,  for,  although  it  was  hard  for 
her  to  own  this  to  Geraint,  yet  was  it  not  more  easy  for 
her  to  listen  to  what  she  heard,  without  warning  Geraint 
concerning  it.  And  she  was  very  sorrowful. 

One  morning  in  the  summer-time  they  were  upon 
their  couch,  and  Geraint  lay  upon  the  edge  of  it.  And 
Enid  was  without  sleep  in  the  apartment,  which  had 
windows  of  glass;1  and  the  sun  shone  upon  the  couch. 
And  the  clothes  had  slipped  from  off  his  arms  and  his 
breast,  and  he  was  asleep.  Then  she  gazed  upon  the 
marvellous  beauty  of  his  appearance,  and  she  said, 
"Alas!  and  am  I  the  cause  that  these  arms  and  this 
breast  have  lost  their  glory,  and  the  warlike  fame  which 
they  once  so  richly  enjoyed!"  As  she  said  this  the 
tears  dropped  from  her  eyes,  and  they  fell  upon  his 
breast.  And  the  tears  she  shed  and  the  words  she  had 
spoken,  awoke  him.  And  another  thing  contributed  to 
awaken  him,  and  that  was  the  idea  that  it  was  not  in 
thinking  of  him  that  she  spoke  thus,  but  that  it  was  be- 
cause she  loved  some  other  man  more  than  him,  and 
that  she  wished  for  other  society.  Thereupon  Geraint 
was  troubled  in  his  mind,  and  he  called  his  squire; 
and  when  he  came  to  him,  "Go  quickly,"  said  he,  "and 
prepare  my  horse  and  my  arms,  and  make  them  ready. 
And  do  thou  rise,"  said  he  to  Enid,  "and  apparel  thy- 
self; and  cause  thy  horse  to  be  accoutred,  and  clothe 
thee  in  the  worst  riding-dress  that  thou  hast  in  thy  pos- 
session. And  evil  betide  me,"  said  he,  "if  thou  return- 
est  here  until  thou  knowest  whether  I  have  lost  my 
strength  so  completely  as  thou  didst  say.  And  if  it  be 
so,  it  will  then  be  easy  for  thee  to  seek  the  society  thou 
didst  wish  for  of  him  of  whom  thou  wast  thinking."  So 
she  arose,  and  clothed  herself  in  her  meanest  garments. 
"I  know  nothing,  lord/1  said  she,  "of  thy  meaning." 
"Neither  wilt  thou  know  at  this  time,"  said  he. 

*The  terms  of  admiration  in  which  the  older  writers  invariably  speak 
of  glass  windowsm  would  be  sufficient  proof,  if  other  evidence  were  wanting, 
how  rare  an  article  of  luxury  they  were  in  the  houses  of  our  ancestors. 
They  were  first  introduced  in  ecclesiastical  architecture,  to  which  they  were 
for  a  long  time  confined.  Glass  is  said  not  to  have  been  employed  in 
domestic  archkecture  before  the  fourteenth  century. 


574  THE  MABINOGEON 

Then  Geraint  went  to  see  Erbin.  "Sir/*  said  he,  "I 
am  going  upon  a  quest,  and  I  am  not  certain  when  I  may 
come  back.  Take  heed,  therefore,  unto  thy  possessions 
until  my  return."  "I  will  do  so,"  said  he;  "but  it 
is  strange  to  me  that  thou  shouldst  go  so  suddenly. 
And  who  will  proceed  with  thee,  since  thou  art  not 
strong  enough  to  traverse  the  land  of  Loegyr  alone?" 
%<But  one  person  only  will  go  with  me."  "Heaven  coun- 
sel thee,  my  son,"  said  Erbin,  "and  may  many  attach 
themselves  to  thee  in  Loegyr."  Then  went  Geraint  to 
the  place  where  his  horse  was,  and  it  was  equipped  with 
foreign  armor,  heavy  and  shining.  And  he  desired 
Enid  to  mount  her  horse,  and  to  ride  forward,  and  to 
keep  a  long  way  before  him.  "And  whatever  thou 
mayst  see,  and  whatever  thou  mayst  hear  concerning 
me,"  said  he,  "do  thou  not  turn  back.  And  unless  I 
speak  unto  thee,  say  not  thou  one  word,  either."  So 
they  set  forward.  And  he  did  not  choose  the  pleasantest 
and  most  frequented  road,  but  that  which  was  the 
wildest  and  most  beset  by  thieves  and  robbers  and  ven- 
omous animals. 

And  they  came  to  a  high  road,  which  they  followed 
till  they  saw  a  vast  forest;  and  they  saw  four  armed 
horsemen  come  forth  from  the  forest.  When  the  armed 
men  saw  them,  they  said  one  to  another.  "Here  is  a 
good  occasion  for  us  to  capture  two  horses  and  armor, 
and  a  lady  likewise;  for  this  we  shall  have  no  difficulty 
in  doing  against  yonder  single  knight  who  hangs  his  head 
so  pensively  and  heavily."  Enid  heard  this  discourse, 
and  she  knew  not  what  she  should  do  through  fear  of 
Geraint,  who  had  told  her  to  be  silent.  "The  vengeance 
of  Heaven  be  upon  me,"  said  she,  "if  I  would  not 
rather  receive  my  death  from  his  hand  than  from  the 
hand  of  any  other;  and  though  he  should  slay  me,  yet 
will  I  speak  to  him,  lest  I  should  have  the  misery  to  wit- 
ness his  death."  So  she  waited  for  Geraint  until  he  came 
near  to  her.  "Lord,"  said  she,  "didst  thou  hear  the 
words  of  those  men  concerning  thee?"  Then  he  lifted 
up  his  eyes,  and  looked  at  her  angrily.  "Thou  hadst 
only,"  said  he,  "to  hold  thy  peace  as  I  bade  thee.  I 
wish  but  for  silence,  and  not  for  warning.  And  though 


GERAINT,   THE    SON    OF   ERBIN        575 

thou  shouldst  desire  to  see  my  defeat  and  my  death  by 
the  hands  of  those  men,  yet  do  I  feel  no  dread."  Then 
the  foremost  of  them  couched  his  lance,  ana  rusnea  upon 
Geraint.  And  he  received  him,  and  that  nor  ieeoly. 
But  he  let  the  thrust  go  by  him,  while  ne  struck:  the 
horseman  upon  the  centre  of  his  shield,  in  sucn  a  man- 
ner that  his  shield  was  split,  and  his  armor  broken,  so 
that  a  cubit's  length  of  the  shaft  of  Geraint' s  lance  passed 
through  his  body,  and  sent  him  to  the  earth,  the  length 
of  the  lance  over  his  horse's  crupper.  Then  the  second 
horseman  attacked  him  furiously,  being  wroth  at  the 
death  of  his  companion.  But  with  one  thrust  Geraint 
overthrew  him  also,  and  killed  him  as  he  had  done  the 
other.  Then  the  third  set  upon  him,  and  he  killed  him 
in  like  manner.  And  thus  also  he  slew  the  fourth.  Sad 
and  sorrowful  was  the  maiden  as  she  saw  all  this. 
Geraint  dismounted  his  horse,  and  took  the  arms  of  the 
men  he  had  slain,  and  placed  them  upon  their  saddles, 
and  tied  together  the  reins  of  their  horses;  and  he 
mounted  his  horse  again.  "Behold  what  thou  must  do/' 
said  he;  "take  the  four  horses  and  drive  them  before 
thee,  and  proceed  forward  as  I  bade  thee  just  now.  And 
say  not  one  word  unto  me,  unless  I  speak  first  unto  thee. 
And  I  declare  unto  Heaven,"  said  he,  "if  thou  doest  not 
thus,  it  will  be  to  thy  cost."  "I  will  do  as  far  as  I  can, 
Jord,"  said  she,  "according  to  thy  desire." 

So  the  maiden  went  forward,  keeping  in  advance  of 
Geraint,  as  he  had  desired  her;  and  it  grieved  him  as 
much  as  his  wrath  would  permit,  to  see  a  maiden  so  il- 
lustrious as  she  having  so  much  trouble  with  the  care  of 
the  horses.  Then  they  reached  a  Avood,  and  it  was  both 
deep  and  vast,  and  in  the  wood  night  overtook  them. 
"Ah,  maiden,"  said  he,  "it  is  vain  to  attempt  proceeding 
forward."  "Well,  lord,"  said  she,  "whatever  thou  wish- 
est,  we  will  do."^  "It  will  be  best  for  us,"  he  answered, 
"to  rest  and  wait  for  the  day,  in  order  to  pursue  our 
journey."  "That  we  will,  gladly,"  said  she.  And  they 
did  so.  Having  dismounted  himself,  he  took  her  down 
from  her  horse.  "I  cannot  by  any  means  refrain  from 
sleep,  through  weariness,"  said  he;  "do  thou  therefore 
watch  the  horses,  and  sleep  not."  "I  will,  lord,"  said 


576  THE  MABINOGEON 

she.  Then  he  went  to  sleep  in  his  armor,  and  thus 
passed  the  night,  which  was  not  long  at  that  season. 
And  when  she  saw  the  dawn  of  day  appear,  she  looked 
around  her  to  see  if  he  were  waking,  and  thereupon  he 
woke.  Then  he  arose,  and  said  unto  her,  "Take  the 
horses  and  ride  on,  and  keep  straight  on  as  thou  didst 
yesterday."  And  they  left  the  wood,  and  they  came  to 
an  open  country,  with  meadows  on  one  hand,  and  mow- 
ers mowing  the  meadows.  And  there  was  a  river  before 
them,  and  the  horses  bent  down  and  drank  of  the  water. 
And  they  went  up  out  of  the  river  by  a  lofty  steep ;  and 
there  they  met  a  slender  stripling  with  a  satchel  about 
his  neck,  and  they  saw  that  there  was  something  in  the 
satchel,  but  they  knew  not  what  it  was.  And  he  had  a 
small  blue  pitcher  in  his  hand,  and  a  bowl  on  the  mouth 
of  the  pitcher.  And  the  youth  saluted  Geraint. 
"Heaven  prosper  thee!"  said  Geraint;  "and  whence  dost 
thou  come?"  "I  come,"  said  he,  "from  the  city  that 
lies  before  thee.  My  lord,"  he  added,  "will  it  be  dis- 
pleasing to  thee  if  t  ask  whence  thou  comest  also?'' 
"By  no  means;  through  yonder  wood  did  I  come." 
"Thou  earnest  not  through  the  wood  to-day."  "No," 
he  replied,  "we  were  in  the  wood  last  night."  "I  war- 
rant," said  the  youth,  "that  thy  condition  there  last  night 
was  not  the  most  pleasant,  and  that  thou  hadst  neither 
meat  nor  drink."  "No,  by  my  faith,"  said  he.  "Wilt 
thou  follow  my  counsel,"  said  the  youth,  "and  take  thy 
meal  from  me?"  "What  sort  of  meal?"  he  inquired. 
"The  breakfast  which  is  sent  for  yonder  mowers,  noth- 
ing less  than  bread  and  meat  and  wine,  and  if  thou 
wilt,  sir,  they  shall  have  none  of  it."  "I  will,"  said  he, 
"and  Heaven  reward  thee  for  it." 

So  Geraint  alighted,  and  the  youth  took  the  maiden 
from  off  her  horse.  Then  they  washed,  and  took  their 
repast.  And  the  youth  cut  the  bread  in  slices,  and  gave 
them  drink,  and  served  them  withal.  And  when  they 
had  finished,  the  youth  arose  and  said  to  Geraint,  "My 
lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  now  go  and  fetch  some 
food  for  the  mowers."  "Go  first  to  the  town,"  said 
Geraint,  "and  take  a  lodging  for  me  in  the  best  place 
that  thou  knowest,  and  the  most  commodious  one  for 


GERAINT.   THE    SON    OF   ERBIN         577 

the  horses;  and  take  thou  whichever  horse  and  arms 
thou  choosest,  in  payment  for  thy  service  and  thy  gift." 
"Heaven  reward  thee,  lord!"  said  the  youth;  "and  this 
would  be  ample  to  repay  services  much  greater  than 
those  I  have  rendered  unto  thee."  And  to  the  town 
went  the  youth,  and  he  took  the  best  and  the  most  pleas- 
ant lodgings  that  he  knew ;  and  after  that  he  went  to  the 
palace,  having  the  horse  and  armor  with  him,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  place  where  the  earl  was,  and  told  him 
all  his  adventure.  "I  go  now,  lord,"  said  he,  "to  meet 
the  knight,  and  to  conduct  him  to  his  lodging."  "Go, 
gladly,"  said  the  earl ;  and  right  joyfully  shall  he  be  re- 
ceived here,  if  Ife  so  come."  And  the  youth  went  to 
meet  Geraint,  and  told  him  that  he  would  be  received 
gladly  by  the  earl  in  his  own  palace;  but  he  would  go 
only  to  his  lodgings.  And  he  had  a  goodly  chamber,  in 
which  was  plenty  of  straw  and  drapery,  and  a  spacious 
and  commodious  place  he  had  for  the  horses;  and  the 
youth  prepared  for  them  plenty  of  provender.  After 
they  had  disarrayed  themselves,  Geraint  spoke  thus  to 
Enid :  "Go,"  said  he,  "to  the  other  side  of  the  chamber, 
and  come  not  to  this  side  of  the  house ;  and  thou  mayst 
call  to  thee  the  woman  of  the  house,  if  thou  wilt."  "I 
will  do,  lord,"  said  she,  "as  thou  sayest."  Thereupon 
the  man  of  the  house  came  to  Geraint  and  welcomed 
him.  And  after  they  had  eaten  and  drank,  Geraint  went 
to  sleep,  and  so  did  Enid  also. 

In  the  evening,  behold,  the  earl  came  to  visit  Geraint, 
and  his  twelve  honorable  knights  with  him.  And  Ge- 
raint rose  up  and  welcomed  him.  Then  they  all  sat 
down  according  to  their  precedence  in  honor.  And  the 
earl  conversed  with  Geraint,  and  inquired  of  him  the 
object  of  his  journey.  "I  have  none,"  he  replied,  "but 
to  seek  adventures  and  to  follow  mine  own  inclination." 
Then  the  earl  cast  his  eye  upon  Enid,  and  he  looked  at 
her  steadfastly.  And  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a 
maiden  fairer  or  more  comely  than  she.  And  he  set 
all  his  thoughts  and  his  affections  upon  her.  Then  he 
asked  of  Geraint,  "Have  I  thy  permission  to  go  and 
converse  with  yonder  maiden,  for  I  see  that  she  is  apart 
from  thee?"  "Thou  hast  it  gladly,"  said  he.  So  the 


578  THE  MABINOGEON 

earl  went  to  the  place  where  the  maiden  was,  and  spake 
with  her.  "Ah!  maiden,"  said  he,  "it  cannot  be  pleas- 
ant to  thee  to  journey  with  yonder  man."  "It  is  not 
unpleasant  to  me/'  said  she.  "Thou  hast  neither  youths 
nor  maidens  to  serve  thee,"  said  he.  "Truly,"  she  re- 
plied, "it  is  more  pleasant  for  me  to  follow  yonder  man, 
than  to  be  served  by  youths  and  maidens."  "I  will  give 
thee  good  counsel,"  said  he :  "all  my  earldom  will  I  place 
in  thy  possession,  if  thou  wilt  dwell  with  me." 

"Enid,  the  pilot  star  of  my  lone  life, 
Enid,  my  early  and  my  only  love." 

— Enid. 

"That  will  I  not,  by  Heaven,"  she  said;  "yonder  man 
was  the  first  to  whom  my  faith  was  ever  pledged;  and 
shall  I  prove  inconstant  to  him?"  "Thou  art  in  the 
wrong,"  said  the  earl ;  "if  I  slay  the  man  yonder,  I  can 
keep  thee  with  me  as  long  as  I  choose;  and  when  thou 
no  longer  pleasest  me,  I  can  turn  thee  away.  But  if 
thou  goest  with  me  by  thy  own  good-will,  I  protest  that 
our  union  shall  continue  as  long  as  I  remain  alive." 
Then  she  pondered  those  words  of  his,  and  she  consid- 
ered that  it  was  advisable  to  encourage  him  in  his  re- 
quest. "Behold  then,  chieftain,  this  is  most  expedient 
for  thee  to  do  to  save  me  from  all  reproach ;  come  here 
to-morrow  and  take  me  away  as  though  I  knew  nothing 
thereof."  "I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  So  he  arose  and 
took  his  leave,  and  went  forth  with  his  attendants.  And 
she  told  not  then  to  Geraint  any  of  the  conversation 
which  she  had  had  with  the  earl,  lest  it  should  rouse  his 
anger,  and  cause  him  uneasiness  and  care. 

And  at  the  usual  hour  they  went  to  sleep.  And  at  the 
beginning  of  the  night  Enid  slept  a  little;  and  at  mid- 
night she  arose,  and  placed  all  Geraint's  armor  together 
so  that  it  might  be  ready  to  put  on.  And  although  fear- 
ful of  her  errand,  she  came  to  the  side  of  Geraint's  bed ; 
and  she  spoke  to  him  softly  and  gently,  saying,  "My  lord, 
arise,  and  clothe  thyself,  for  these  were  the  words  of 
the  earl  to  me  and  his  intention  concerning  me."  So 
she  told  Geraint  all  that  had  passed.  And  although  he 
was  wroth  with  her,  he  took  warning,  and  clothed  him- 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF   ERBIN        579 

self.  And  she  lighted  a  candle,  that  he  might  have  light 
to  do  so.  "Leave  there  the  candle,"  said  he,  "and  desire 
the  man  of  the  house  to  come  here."  Then  she  went, 
and  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  him.  "Dost  thou 
know  how  much  I  owe  thee?"  asked  Geraint.  "I  think 
thou  owest  but  little."  "Take  the  three  horses  and  the 
three  suits  of  armor."  "Heaven  reward  thee,  lord,"  said 
he,  "bat  I  spent  not  the  value  of  one  suit  of  armor  upon 
thee."  "For  that  reason,"  said  he,  "thou  wilt  be  the 
richer.  And  now,  wilt  thou  come  to  guide  me  out  of  the 
town?"  "I  will  gladly,"  said  he;  "and  in  which  direction 
dost  thou  intend  to  go?"  "I  wish  to  leave  the  town  by  a 
different  way  from  that  by  which  I  entered  it."  So  the 
man  of  the  lodgings  accompanied  him  as  far  as  he  de- 
sired. Then  he  bade  the  maiden  to  go  on  before  him, 
and  she  did  so,  and  went  straight  forward,  and  his  host 
returned  home. 

And  Geraint  and  the  maiden  went  forward  along  the 
high-road.  And  as  they  journeyed  thus,  they  heard  an 
exceeding  loud  wailing  near  to  them.  "Stay  thou 
here,"  said  he,  "and  I  will  go  and  see  what  is  the  cause 
of  this  wailing."  "I  will,"  said  she.  Then  he  went 
forward  into  an  open  glade  that  was  near  the  road. 
And  in  the  glade  he  saw  two  horses,  one  having  a  man's 
saddle,  and  the  other  a  woman's  saddle  upon  it.  And 
behold  there  was  a  knight  lying  dead  in  his  armor,  and 
a  young  damsel  in  a  riding-dress  standing  over  him  la- 
menting. "Ah,  lady,"  said  Geraint,  "what  hath  be- 
fallen thee?"  "Behold,"  she  answered,  "I  journeyed 
here  with  my  beloved  husband,  when  lo!  three  giants 
came  upon  us,  and  without  any  cause  in  the  world,  they 
slew  him."  "Which  way  went  they  hence?"  said  Ge- 
raint. "Yonder  by  the  high-road,"  she  replied.  So  he 
returned  to  Enid.  "Go,"  said  he,  "to  the  lady  that  is 
below  yonder,  and  await  me  there  till  I  come."  She 
was  sad  when  he  ordered  her  to  do  thus,  but  neverthe- 
less she  went  to  the  damsel,  whom  it  was  ruth  to  hear, 
and  she  felt  certain  that  Geraint  would  never  return. 

Meanwhile  Geraint  followed  the  giants,  and  overtook 
them.  And  each  of  them  was  greater  in  stature  than 
three  other  men,  and  a  huge  club  was  on  the  shoulder 


580  THE  MABINOGEON 

of  each.  Then  he  rushed  upon  one  of  them,  and  thrust 
his  lance  through  his  body.  And  having  drawn  it 
forth  again,  he  pierced  another  of  them  through  like- 
wise. But  the  third  turned  upon  him  and  struck  him 
with  his  club  so  that  he  split  his  shield  and  crushed  his 
shoulder.  But  Geraint  drew  his  sword  and  gave  the 
giant  a  blow  on  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  severe,  and 
fierce,  and  violent,  that  his  head  and  his  neck  were  split 
down  to  his  shoulders,  and  he  fell  dead.  So  Geraint 
left  him  thus  and  returned  to  Enid.  And  when  he 
reached  the  place  where  she  was  he  fell  down  lifeless 
from  his  horse.  Piercing  and  loud  and  thrilling  was 
the  cry  that  Enid  uttered.  And  she  came  and  stood 
over  him  where  he  had  fallen.  And  at  the  sound  of  her 
cries  came  the  Earl  of  Limours,  and  they  who  journeyed 
with  him,  whom  her  lamentations  brought  out  of  their 
road.  And  the  earl  said  to  Enid,  "Alas,  lady,  what  hath 
befallen  thee?"  "Ah,  good  sir,"  said  she,  "the  only  man 
I  have  loved,  or  ever  shall  love,  is  slain."  Then  he 
said  to  the  other,  "And  what  is  the  cause  of  thy  grief  ?" 
"They  have  slain  my  beloved  husband  also,"  said  she. 
"And  who  was  it  that  slew  them?"  "Some  giants,"  she 
answered,  "slew  my  best-beloved,  and  the  other  knight 
went  in  pursuit  of  them,  and  came  back  in  the  state  thou 
seest."  The  earl  caused  the  knight  that  was  dead  to  be 
buried,  but  he  thought  that  there  still  remained  some 
life  in  Geraint ;  and  to  see  if  he  yet  would  live,  he  had 
him  carried  with  him  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  and 
upon  a  bier.  And  the  two  damsels  went  to  the  court; 
and  when  they  arrived  there,  Geraint  was  placed  upon 
a  little  couch  in  front  of  the  table  that  was  in  the  hall. 
Then  they  all  took  off  their  traveling-gear,  and  the  earl 
besought  Enid  to  do  the  same,  and  to  clothe  herself  in 
other  garments.  "I  will  not,  by  Heaven,"  said  she. 
"Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "be  not  so  sorrowful  for  this  mat- 
ter." "It  were  hard  to  persuade  me  to  be  otherwise," 
said  she.  "I  will  act  towards  thee  in  such  wise  that 
thou  needest  not  be  sorrowful,  whether  yonder  knight 
live  or  die.  Behold,  a  good  earldom,  together  with 
myself,  will  I  bestow  upon  thee ;  be  therefore  happy  and 
joyful."  "I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  she,  "that  hence- 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF   ERBIN        581 

forth  I  shall  never  be  joyful  while  I  live/'  "Come/' 
said  he,  "and  eat."  "No,  by  Heaven,  I  will  not."  "But, 
by  Heaven,  thou  shalt,"  said  he.  So  he  took  her  with 
him  to  the  table  against  her  will,  and  many  times  de- 
sired her  to  eat.  "I  call  Heaven  to  witness,"  said  she, 
"that  I  will  not  until  the  man  that  is  upon  yonder  bier 
shall  eat  likewise."  "Thou  canst  not  fulfil  that,"  said 
the  earl,  "yonder  man  is  dead  already."  "I  will  prove 
that  I  can,"  said  she.  Then  he  offered  her  a  goblet  of 
liquor.  "Drink  this  goblet,"  he  said,  "and  it  will  cause 
thee  to  change  thy  mind."  "Evil  betide  me,"  she  an- 
swered, "if  I  drink  aught  until  he  drink  also."  "Truly," 
said  the  earl,  "it  is  of  no  more  avail  for  me  to  be  gen- 
tle with  thee  than  ungentle."  And  he  gave  her  a  box  in 
the  ear.  Thereupon  she  raised  a  loud  and  piercing 
shriek,  and  her  lamentations  were  much  greater  than 
they  had  been  before;  for  she  considered  in  her  mind, 
that,  had  Geraint  been  alive,  he  durst  not  have  struck 
her  thus.  But,  behold,  at  the  sound  of  her  cry,  Geraint 
revived  from  his  swoon,  and  he  sat  upon  the  bier;  and 
finding  his  sword  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  he  rushed 
to  the  place  where  the  earl  was,  and  struck  him  a  fierce- 
ly-wounding, severely-venomous,  and  sternly-smiting 
blow  upon  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  that  he  clove  him 
in  twain,  until  his  sword  was  staid  by  the  table.  Then 
all  left  the  board  and  fled  away.  And  this  was  not  so 
much  through  fear  of  the  living,  as  through  the  dread 
they  felt  at  seeing  the  dead  man  rise  up  to  slay  them. 
And  Geraint  looked  upon  Enid,  and  he  was  grieved  for 
two  causes ;  one  was  to  see  that  Enid  had  lost  her  color 
and  her  wonted  aspect ;  and  the  other,  to  know  that  she 
was  in  the  right.  "Lady,"  said  he,  "knowest  thou  where 
our  horses  are?"  "I  know,  lord,  where  thy  horse  is," 
she  replied,  "but  I  know  not  where  is  the  other.  Thy 
horse  is  in  the  house  yonder."  So  he  went  to  the  house, 
and  brought  forth  his  horse,  and  mounted  him,  and  took 
up  Enid,  and  placed  her  upon  the  horse  with  him.  And 
he  rode  forward.  And  their  road  lay  between  two 
hedges;  and  the  night  was  gaining  on  the  day.  And 
lo!  they  saw  behind  them  the  shafts  of  spears  betwixt 
them  and  the  sky,  and  they  heard  the  tramping  of 


582  THE  MABINOGEON 

horses,  and  the  noise  of  a  host  approaching.  "I  hear 
something  following  us,"  said  he,  "and  I  will  put  thee 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge."  And  thus  he  did.  And 
thereupon,  behold  a  knight  pricked  towards  him,  and 
couched  his  lance.  When  Enid  saw  this,  she  cried  out, 
saying,  "O  chieftain,  whoever  thou  art,  what  renown 
wilt  thou  gain  by  slaying  a  dead  man  ?"  "O  Heaven !" 
said  he,  "is  it  Geraint?"  "Yes,  in  truth,"  said  she;  "and 
who  art  thou?"  "I  am  Gwiffert  Petit,"  said  he,  "thy 
husband's  ally,  coming  to  thy  assistance,  for  I  heard 
that  thou  wast  in  trouble.  Come  with  me  to  the  court 
of  a  son-in-law  of  my  sister,  which  is  near  here,  and 
thou  shalt  have  the  best  medical  assistance  in  the  king- 
dom." "I  will  do  so  gladly,"  said  Geraint.  And  Enid 
was  placed  upon  the  horse  of  one  of  Gwiffert's  squires, 
and  they  went  forward  to  the  baron's  palace.  And  they 
were  received  there  with  gladness,  and  they  met  witli 
hospitality  and  attention.  The  next  morning  they  went 
to  seek  physicians;  and  it  was  not  long  before  they 
came,  and  they  attended  Geraint  until  he  was  perfectl) 
well.  And  while  Geraint  was  under  medical  care  Gwif- 
fert  caused  his  armor  to  be  repaired,  until  it  was  as 
good  as  it  had  ever  been.  And  they  remained  there  a 
month  and  a  fortnight.  Then  they  separated,  and  Ge- 
raint went  towards  his  own  dominions,  and  thenceforth 
he  reigned  prosperously,  and  his  warlike  fame  and  splen- 
dor lasted  with  renown  and  honor,  both  to  him  and  to 
Enid,1  from  that  time  forward. 

1  Throughout  the  broad  and  varied  region  of  romance  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  character  of  greater  simplicity  and  truth  than  that  of 
Enid,  the  daughter  of  Earl  Ynywl.  Conspicuous  for  her  beauty  and  noble 
bearing,  we  are  at  a  loss  whether  more  to  admire  the  patience  with  which 
she  bore  all  the  hardships  she  was  destined  to  undergo  or  the  constancy  and 
affection  which  finally  achieved  the  triumph  she  so  richly  deserved. 

The  character  of  Enid  is  admirably  sustained  through  the  whole  tale; 
and  as  it  is  more  natural,  because  less  overstrained,  so  perhaps  it  is  even 
more  touching  than  that  of  Griselda,  over  which,  however,  Chaucer  has 
thrown  a  charm  that  leads  us  to  forget  the  improbability  of  her  story. 


PWYLL,  PRINCE  OF  DYVED  583 

CHAPTER  VIII 

PWYLL,    PRINCE    OF    DYVED 

ONCE  upon  a  time  Pwyll  was  at  Narberth,  his  chief 
palace,  where  a  feast  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and 
with  him  was  a  great  host  of  men.  And  after  the  first 
meal  Pwyll  arose  to  walk ;  and  he  went  to  the  top  of  a 
mound  that  was  above  the  palace,  and  was  called  Gor- 
secld  Arberth.  "Lord,"  said  one  of  the  court,  "it  is  pe- 
culiar to  the  mound  that  whosoever  sits  upon  it  cannot 
go  thence  without  either  receiving  wounds  or  blows,  or 
else  seeing  a  wonder."  "I  fear  not  to  receive  wounds 
or  blows,"  said  Pwyll ;  "but  as  to  the  wonder,  gladly 
would  I  see  it.  I  will  therefore  go  and  sit  upon  the 
mound." 

And  upon  the  mound  he  sat.  And  while  he  sat  there, 
they  saw  a  lady,  on  a  pure  white  horse  of  large  size, 
with  a  garment  of  shining  gold  around  her,  coming 
along  the  highway  that  led  from  the  mound.  "My 
men,"  said  Pwyll,  "is  there  any  among  you  who  knows 
yonder  lady?"  "There  is  not,  lord,"  said  they.  "Go 
one  of  you  and  meet  her,  that  we  may  know  who  she 
is."  And  one  of  them  arose,  and  as  he  came  upon  the 
road  to  meet  her,  she  passed  by ;  and  he  followed  as  fast 
as  he  could,  being  on  foot,  and  the  greater  was  his 
speed,  the  further  was  she  from  him.  And  when  he 
saw  that  it  profited  him  nothing  to  follow  her,  he  re- 
turned to  Pwyll,  and  said  unto  him,  "Lord,  it  is  idle 
for  any  one  in  the  world  to  follow  her  on  foot."  "Veri- 
ly," said  Pwyll,  "go  unto  the  palace,  and  take  the  fleet- 
est horse  that  thou  seest,  and  go  after  her." 

And  he  took  a  horse  and  went  forward.  And  he 
came  to  an  open,  level  plain,  and  put  spurs  to  his  horse; 
and  the  more  he  urged  his  horse,  the  further  was  she 
from  him.  And  he  returned  to  the  place  where  Pwyll 
was,  and  said,  "Lord,  it  will  avail  nothing  for  any  one 
to  follow  yonder  lady.  I  know  of  no  horse  in  these 
realms  swifter  than  this,  and  it  availed  me  not  to  pur- 


584  THE  MABINOGEON 

sue  her."  "Of  a  truth,"  said  Pwyll,  "there  must  be 
some  illusion  here;  let  us  go  towards  the  palace."  So 
to  the  palace  they  went,  and  spent  the  day. 

And  the  next  day  they  amused  themselves  until  it  was 
time  to  go  to  meat.  And  when  meat  was  ended,  Pwyll 
said,  "Where  are  the  hosts  that  went  yesterday  to  the 
top  of  the  mound?"  "Behold,  lord,  we  are  here,"  said 
they.  "Let  us  go,"  said  he,  "to  the  mound,  and  sit 
there.  And  do  thou,"  said  he  to  the  page  who  tended 
his  horse,  "saddle  my  horse  well,  and  hasten  with  him 
to  the  road,  and  bring  also  my  spurs  with  thee."  And 
the  youth  did  thus.  And  they  went  and  sat  upon  the 
mound;  and  ere  they  had  been  there  but  a  short  time, 
they  beheld  the  lady  coming  by  the  same  road,  and  in 
the  same  manner,  and  at  the  same  pace.  "Young  man/' 
said  Pwyll,  "I  see  the  lady  coming;  give  me  my  horse." 
And  before  he  had  mounted  his  horse  she  passed  him. 
And  he  turned  after  her  and  followed  her.  And  he 
let  his  horse  go  bounding  playfully,  and  thought  that  he 
should  soon  come  up  with  her.  But  he  came  no  nearer 
to  her  than  at  first.  Then  he  urged  his  horse  to  his  ut- 
most speed,  yet  he  found  that  it  availed  not.  Then 
said  Pwyll,  "O  maiden,  for  the  sake  of  him  whom  thou 
best  lovest,  stay  for  me."  "I  will  stay  gladly,"  said  she ; 
"and  it  were  better  for  thy  horse  hadst  thou  asked  it 
long  since."  So  the  maiden  stopped;  and  she  threw 
back  that  part  of  her  head-dress  which  covered  her 
face.  Then  he  thought  that  the  beauty  of  all  the  maid- 
ens and  all  the  ladies  that  he  had  ever  seen  was  as  noth- 
ing compared  to  her  beauty.  "Lady,"  he  said,  "wilt 
thou  tell  me  aught  concerning  thy  purpose?"  "I  will 
tell  thee,"  said  she;  "my  chief  quest  was  to  see  thee." 
"Truly,"  said  Pwyll,  "this  is  to  me  the  most  pleasing 
quest  on  which  thou  couldst  have  come;  and  wilt  thou 
tell  me  who  thou  art?"  "I  will  tell  thee,  lord,"  said 
she.  "I  am  Rhiannon,  the  daughter  of  Heveydd,  and 
they  sought  to  give  me  a  husband  against  my  will.  But 
no  husband  would  I  have,  and  that  because  of  my  love 
for  thee;  neither  will  I  yet  have  one,  unless  thou  reject 
me;  and  hither  have  I  come  to  hear  thy  answer."  "B> 
Heaven,"  said  Pwyll,  "behold  this  is  my  answer.  If 


PWYLL,    PRINCE    OF   DYVED  585 

I  might  choose  among  all  the  ladies  and  damsels  in  the 
world,  thee  would  I  choose."  "Verily,"  said  she,  "if 
thou  art  thus  minded,  make  a  pledge  to  meet  me  ere  I 
am  given  to  another."  "The  sooner  I  may  do  so,  the 
more  pleasing  will  it  be  to  me,"  said  Pwyll;  "and 
wheresoever  thou  wilt,  there  will  I  meet  with  thee."  "I 
will  that  thou  meet  me  this  day  twelvemonth  at  the  pal- 
ace of  Heveydd."  "Gladly,"  said  he,  "will  I  keep  this 
tryst."  So  they  parted,  and  he  went  back  to  his  hosts, 
and  to  them  of  his  household.  And  whatsoever  ques- 
tions they  asked  him  respecting  the  damsel,  he  always 
turned  the  discourse  upon  other  matters. 

And  when  a  year  from  that  time  was  gone,  he  caused 
a  hundred  knights  to  equip  themselves,  and  to  go  with 
him  to  the  palace  of  Heveydd.  And  he  came  to  the 
palace,  and  there  was  great  joy  concerning  him,  with 
much  concourse  of  people,  and  great  rejoicing,  and 
vast  preparations  for  his  coming.  And  the  whole  court 
was  placed  under  his  orders. 

And  the  hall  was  garnished,  and  they  went  to  meat, 
and  thus  did  they  sit:  Heveydd  was  on  one  side  of 
Pwyll,  and  Rhiannon  on  the  other;  and  all  the  rest  ac- 
cording to  their  rank.  And  they  ate  and  feasted,  and 
talked  one  with  another.  And  at  the  beginning  of  the 
carousal  after  the  meat,  there  entered  a  tall,  auburn- 
haired  youth,  of  royal  bearing,  clothed  in  a  garment  of 
satin.  And  when  he  came  into  the  hall,  he  saluted 
Pwyll  and  his  companions.  "The  greeting  of  Heaven 
be  unto  thee,"  said  Pwyll;  "come  thou  and  sit  down." 
"Nay,"  said  he,  "a  suitor  am  I,  and  I  will  do  my  er- 
rand." "Do  so  willingly,"  said  Pwyll.  "Lord,"  said  he, 
"my  errand  is  unto  thee,  and  it  is  to  crave  a  boon  of  thee 
that  I  come."  "What  boon  soever  thou  mayest  ask  of 
me,  so  far  as  I  am  able,  thou  shalt  have."  "Ah !"  said 
Rhiannon,  "wherefore  didst  thou  give  that  answer?" 
"Has  he  not  given  it  before  the  presence  of  these  no- 
bles ?"  asked  the  youth.  "My  soul,"  said  Pwyll,  "what  is 
the  boon  thou  askest  ?"  "The  lady  whom  best  I  love  is  to 
be  thy  bride  this  night;  I  come  to  ask  her  of  thee,  with 
the  feast  and  the  banquet  that  are  in  this  place."  And 
Pwyll  was  silent,  because  of  the  promise  which  he  had 


586  THE  MABINOGEON 

given.  "Be  silent  as  long  as  thou  wilt,"  said  Rhiannon, 
"never  did  man  make  worse  use  of  his  wits  than  thou 
hast  done."  "Lady,"  said  he,  "I  knew  not  who  he  was." 
"Behold,  this  is  the  man  to  whom  they  would  have  given 
me  against  my  will,"  said  she;  "and  he  is  Gawl,  the  son 
of  Clud,  a  man  of  great  power  and  wealth,  and  because 
of  the  word  thou  hast  spoken,  bestow  me  upon  him,  lest 
shame  befall  thee."  "Lady,"  said  he,  "I  understand  not 
thy  answer ;  never  can  I  do  as  thou  sayest."  "Bestow 
me  upon  him,"  said  she,  "and  I  will  cause  that  I  shall 
never  be  his."  "By  what  means  will  that  be?"  asked 
Pwyll.  Then  she  told  him  the  thought  that  was  in  her 
mind.  And  they  talked  long  together.  Then  Gawl  said, 
"Lord,  it  is  meet  that  I  have  an  answer  to  my  request." 
"As  much  of  that  thou  hast  asked  as  it  is  in  my  power 
to  give,  thou  shalt  have,"  replied  Pwyll.  "My  soul," 
said  Rhiannon  unto  Gawl,  "as  for  the  feast  and  the  ban- 
quet that  are  here,  I  have  bestowed  them  upon  the  men 
of  Dyved,  and  the  household  and  the  warriors  that  are 
with  us.  These  can  I  not  suffer  to  be  given  to  any. 
In  a  year  from  to-night,  a  banquet  shall  be  prepared  for 
thee  in  this  palace,  that  I  may  become  thy  bride." 

So  Gawl  went  forth  to  his  possessions,  and  Pwyll 
went  also  back  to  Dyved.  And  they  both  spent  that  year 
until  it  was  the  time  for  the  feast  at  the  palace  of 
Heveydd.  Then  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  set  out  to  the 
feast  that  was  prepared  for  him;  and  he  came  to  the 
palace,  and  was  received  there  with  rejoicing.  Pwyll, 
also,  the  chief  of  Dyved,  came  to  the  orchard  with  a 
hundred  knights,  as  Rhiannon  had  commanded  him.  And 
Pwyll  was  clad  in  coarse  and  ragged  garments,  and  wore 
large,  clumsy  old  shoes  upon  his  feet.  And  when  he 
knew  that  the  carousal  after  the  meat  had  begun,  he 
went  toward  the  hall ;  and  when  he  came  into  the  hall  he 
saluted  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  and  his  company,  both 
men  and  women.  "Heaven  prosper  thee,"  said  Gawl, 
"and  friendly  greeting  be  unto  thee!"  "Lord,"  said  he, 
"may  Heaven  reward  thee !  I  have  an  errand  unto  thee." 
"Welcome  be  thine  errand,  and  if  thou  ask  of  me  that 
which  is  right,  thou  shalt  have  it  gladly."  "It  is  fitting," 
answered  he;  "I  crave  but  from  want,  and  the  boon  I  ask 


PWYLL,  PRINCE  OF  DYVED  587 

is  to  have  this  small  bag  that  them  seest  filled  with  meat." 
"A  request  within  reason  is  this,"  said  he,  "and  gladly 
shalt  thou  have  it.  Bring  him  food."  A  great  num- 
ber of  attendants  arose  and  began  to  fill  the  bag;  but 
for  all  they  put  into  it,  it  was  no  fuller  than  at  first. 
"My  soul,"  said  Gawl,  "will  thy  bag  ever  be  full?"  "It 
will  not,  I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  he,  "for  all  that  may 
be  put  into  it,  unless  one  possessed  of  lands,  and  do- 
mains, and  treasure,  shall  arise  and  tread  down  with 
both  his  feet  the  food  that  is  within  the  bag,  and  shall 
say,  'Enough  has  been  put  therein/  "  Then  said  Rhian- 
non  unto  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  "Rise  up  quickly."  "I 
will  willingly  arise,"  said  he.  So  he  rose  up,  and  put  his 
two  feet  into  the  bag.  And  Pwyll  turned  up  the  sides 
of  the  bag,  so  that  Gawl  was  over  his  head  in  it.  And 
he  shut  it  up  quickly,  and  slipped  a  knot  upon  the  thongs, 
and  blew  his  horn.  And  thereupon,  behold,  his  knights 
came  down  upon  the  palace.  And  they  seized  all  the 
host  that  had  come  with  Gawl,  and  cast  them  into  his 
own  prison.  And  Pwyll  threw  off  his  rags,  and  his  old 
shoes,  and  his  tattered  array.  And  as  they  came  in, 
every  one  of  Pwyll's  knights  struck  a  blow  upon  the 
bag,  and  asked,  "What  is  here?"  "A  badger,"  said  they. 
And  in  this  manner  they  played,  each  of  them  striking 
the  bag,  either  with  his  foot  or  with  a  staff.  And  thus 
played  they  with  the  bag.  And  then  was  the  game  of 
Badger  in  the  Bag  first  played. 

"Lord,"  said  the  man  in  the  bag,  "if  thou  wouldst  but 
hear  me,  I  merit  not  to  be  slain  in  a  bag."  Said 
Heveydd,  "Lord,  he  speaks  truth;  it  were  fitting  that 
thou  listen  to  him,  for  he  deserves  not  this."  "Verily," 
said  Pwyll,  "I  will  do  thy  counsel  concerning  him." 
"Behold,  this  is  my  counsel  then,"  said  Rhiannon.  "Thou 
art  now  in  a  position  in  which  it  behooves  thee  to  satisfy 
suitors  and  minstrels.  Let  him  give  unto  them  in  thy 
stead,  and  take  a  pledge  from  him  that  he  will  never 
seek  to  revenge  that  which  has  been  done  to  him.  And 
this  will  be  punishment  enough."  "I  will  do  this  gladly," 
said  the  man  in  the  bag.  "And  gladly  will  I  accept  it," 
said  Pwyll,  "since  it  is  the  counsel  of  Heveydd  and 
Rhiannon.  Seek  thyself  sureties."  "We  will  be  for 


588  THE  MABINOGEON 

him/*  said  Heveydd,  "until  his  men  be  free  to  answer 
for  him."  And  upon  this  he  was  let  out  of  the  bag, 
and  his  liegemen  were  liberated.  "Verily,  lord,"  said 
Gawl,  "I  am  greatly  hurt,  and  I  have  many  bruises. 
With  thy  leave,  I  will  go  forth.  I  will  leave  nobles  in 
my  stead  to  answer  for  me  in  all  that  thou  shalt  re- 
quire." "Willingly,"  said  Pwyll,  "mayest  thou  do  this." 
So  Gawl  went  to  his  own  possessions. 

And  the  hall  was  set  in  order  for  Pwyll  and  the  men 
of  his  host,  and  for  them  also  of  the  palace,  and  they 
went  to  the  tables  and  sat  down.  And  as  they  had  sat 
that  time  twelvemonth,  so  sat  they  that  night.  And 
they  ate  and  feasted,  and  spent  the  night  in  mirth  and 
tranquility.  And  the  time  came  that  they  should  sleep, 
and  Pwyll  and  Rhiannon  went  to  their  chamber. 

And  next  morning  at  break  of  day,  "My  lord,"  said 
Rhiannon,  "arise  and  begin  to  give  thy  gifts  unto  the 
minstrels.  Refuse  no  one  to-day  that  may  claim  thy 
bounty."  "Thus  shall  it  be  gladly,"  said  Pwyll,  "both 
to-day  and  every  day  while  the  feast  shall  last."  So 
Pwyll  arose,  and  he  caused  silence  to  be  proclaimed, 
and  desired  all  the  suitors  and  minstrels  to  show  and  to 
point  out  what  gifts  they  desired.  And  this  being  done, 
the  feast  went  on,  and  he  denied  no  one  while  it  lasted. 
And  when  the  feast  was  ended,  Pwyll  said  unto  He- 
veydd, "My  lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  set  out  for 
Dyved  to-morrow."  "Certainly,"  said  Heveydd;  "may 
Heaven  prosper  thee!  Fix  also  a  time  when  Rhiannon 
shall  follow  thee."  "By  Heaven,"  said  Pwyll,  "we  will 
go  hence  together."  "Wiliest  thou  this,  lord?"  said 
Heveydd.  "Yes,  lord,"  answered  Pwyll. 

And  the  next  day  they  set  forward  towards  Dyved, 
and  journeyed  to  the  palace  of  Narberth,  where  a  feast 
was  made  ready  for  them.  And  there  came  to  them 
great  numbers  of  the  chief  men  and  the  most  noble 
ladies  of  the  land,  and  of  these  there  were  none  to  whom 
Rhiannon  did  not  give  some  rich  gift,  either  a  brace- 
let, or  a  ring,  or  a  precious  stone.  And  they  ruled  the 
land  prosperously  that  year  and  the  next. 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR    589 
CHAPTER   IX 

BRANWEN,    THE    DAUGHTER    OF    LLYR 

BENDIGEID  VRAN,  the  son  of  Llyr,  was  the  crowned 
king  of  this  island,  and  he  was  exalted  from  the  crown 
of  London.  And  one  afternoon  he  was  at  Harlech,  in 
Ardudwy,  at  his  court;  and  he  sat  upon  the  rock  of 
Harlech,  looking  over  the  sea.  And  with  him  were 
his  brother,  Manawyddan,  the  son  of  Llyr,  and  his 
brothers  by  the  mother's  side,  Nissyen  and  Evnissyen, 
and  many  nobles  likewise,  as  was  fitting  to  see  around  a 
king.  His  two  brothers  by  the  mother's  side  were  the 
sons  of  Euroswydd,  and  one  of  these  youths  was  a 
good  youth,  and  of  gentle  nature,  and  would  make  peace 
between  his  kindred,  and  cause  his  family  to  be  friends 
when  their  wrath  was  at  the  highest,  and  this  one  was 
Nissyen;  but  the  other  would  cause  strife  between  his 
two  brothers  when  they  were  most  at  peace.  And  as 
they  sat  thus  they  beheld  thirteen  ships  coming  from 
the  south  of  Ireland,  and  making  towards  them;  and 
they  came  with  a  swift  motion,  the  wind  being  behind 
them ;  and  they  neared  them  rapidly.  "I  see  ships  afar," 
said  the  king,  "coming  swiftly  towards  the  land.  Com- 
mand the  men  of  the  court  that  they  equip  themselves, 
and  go  and  learn  their  intent."  So  the  men  equipped 
themselves,  and  went  down  towards  them.  And  when 
they  saw  the  ships  near,  certain  were  they  that  they 
had  never  seen  ships  better  furnished.  Beautiful  flags 
of  satin  were  upon  them.  And,  behold,  one  of  the  ships 
outstripped  the  others,  and  they  saw  a  shield  lifted 
up  above  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  the  point  of  the  shield 
was  upwards,  in  token  of  peace.  And  the  men  drew 
near,  that  they  might  hold  converse.  Then  they  put  out 
boats,  and  came  toward  the  land.  And  they  saluted  the 
king.  Now  the  king  could  hear  them  from  the  place 
where  he  was  upon  the  rock  above  their  heads.  "Heaven 
prosper  you,"  said  he,  "and  be  ye  welcome!  To  whom 
do  these  ships  belong,  and  who  is  the  chief  amongst 
you?"  "Lord,"  said  they,  "Matholch,  king  of  Ireland, 


590  THE  MABINOGEON 

is  here,  and  these  ships  belong  to  him."  "Wherefore 
comes  he?"  asked  the  king,  "and  will  he  come  to  the 
land?"  "He  is  a  suitor  unto  thee,  lord,"  said  they, 
"and  he  will  not  land  unless  he  have  his  boon."  "And 
what  may  that  be?"  inquired  the  king.  "He  desires  to 
ally  himself,  lord,  with  thee,"  said  they,  "and  he  comes 
to  ask  Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  that,  if  it  seem 
well  to  thee,  the  Island  of  the  Mighty1  may  be  leagued 
with  Ireland,  and  both  become  more  powerful."  "Ver- 
ily," said  he,  "let  him  come  to  land,  and  we  will  take 
counsel  thereupon."  And  this  answer  was  brought  to 
Matholch.  "I  will  go  willingly,"  said  he.  So  he  landed, 
and  they  received  him  joyfully;  and  great  was  the 
throng  in  the  palace  that  night,  between  his  hosts  and 
those  of  the  court;  and  next  day  they  took  counsel,  and 
they  resolved  to  bestow  Branwen  upon  Matholch.  Now 
she  was  one  of  the  three  chief  ladies  of  this  island,  and 
she  was  the  fairest  damsel  in  the  world. 

And  they  fixed  upon  Aberfraw  as  the  place  where  she 
should  become  his  bride.  And  they  went  thence,  and 
towards  Aberfraw  the  hosts  proceeded,  Matholch  and 
his  host  in  their  ships,  Bendigeid  Vran  and  his  host  by 
land,  until  they  came  to  Aberfraw.  And  at  Aberfraw 
they  began  the  feast,  and  sat  down.  And  thus  sat  they : 
the  king  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  and  Manawyddan. 
the  son  of  Llyr,  on  one  side,  and  Matholch  on  the  other 
side,  and  Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  beside  him. 
And  they  were  not  within  a  house,  but  under  tents.  No 
house  could  ever  contain  Bendigeid  Vran.  And  they 
began  the  banquet,  and  caroused  and  discoursed.  And 
when  it  was  more  pleasing  to  them  to  sleep  than  to 
carouse,  they  went  to  rest,  and  Branwen  became  Math- 
olch's  bride. 

And  next  day  they  arose,  and  all  they  of  the  court, 
and  the  officers  began  to  equip,  and  to  range  the  horses 
and  the  attendants,  and  they  ranged  them  in  order  as 
far  as  the  sea. 

And,  behold,  one  day  Evnissyen,  the  quarrelsome 
man,  of  whom  it  is  spoken  above,  came  by  chance  into 

1  The  Island  of  the  Mighty  is  one  of  the  many  names  bestowed  upon 
Britain  by  the  Welsh. 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF   LLYR     591 

the  place  where  the  horses  of  Matholch  were,  and  asked 
whose  horses  they  might  be.  'They  are  the  horses  of 
Matholch,  king  of  Ireland,  who  is  married  to  Branwen, 
thy  sister;  his  horses  are  they."  "And  is  it  thus  they 
have  done  with  a  maiden  such  as  she,  and  moreover  my 
sister,  bestowing  her  without  my  consent?  They  could 
have  offered  no  greater  insult  to  me  than  this,"  said  he. 
And  thereupon  he  rushed  under  the  horses,  and  cut  off 
their  lips  at  the  teeth,  and  their  ears  close  to  their 
heads,  and  their  tails  close  to  their  backs;  and  he  dis- 
figured the  horses,  and  rendered  them  useless. 

And  they  came  with  these  tidings  unto  Matholch,  say- 
ing that  the  horses  were  disfigured  and  injured,  so  that 
not  one  of  them  could  ever  be  of  any  use  again.  "Ver- 
ily, lord,"  said  one,  "it  was  an  insult  unto  thee,  and  as 
such  was  it  meant."  "Of  a  truth,  it  is  a  marvel  to  me 
that,  if  they  desire  to  insult  me,  they  should  have  given 
me  a  maiden  of  such  high  rank,  and  so  much  beloved 
of  her  kindred,  as  they  have  done."  "Lord,"  said  an- 
other, "thou  seest  that  thus  it  is,  and  there  is  nothing  for 
thee  to  do  but  to  go  to  thy  ships."  And  thereupon  to- 
wards his  ships  he  set  out. 

And  tidings  came  to  Bendigeid  Vran  that  Matholch 
was  quitting  the  court  without  asking  leave,  and  mes- 
sengers were  sent  to  inquire  of  him  wherefore  he  did 
so.  And  the  messengers  that  went  were  Iddic,  the  son 
of  Anarawd,  and  Heveyd  Hir.  And  these  overtook 
him,  and  asked  of  him  what  he  designed  to  do,  and 
wherefore  he  went  forth.  "Of  a  truth,"  said  he,  "it  I 
had  known,  I  had  not  come  hither.  I  have  been  alto- 
gether insulted;  no  one  had  ever  worse  treatment  than 
I  have  had  here."  "Truly,  lord,  it  was  not  the  will  of 
any  that  are  of  the  court,"  said  they,  "nor  of  any  that 
are  of  the  council,  that  thou  shouldst  have  received  this 
insult;  and  as  thou  hast  been  insulted,  the  dishonor  is 
greater  unto  Bendigeid  Vran  than  unto  thee."  "Verily," 
said  he,  "I  think  so.  Nevertheless,  he  cannot  recall  the 
insult."  These  men  returned  with  that  answer  to  the 
place  where  Bendigeid  Vran  was,  and  they  told  him 
what  reply  Matholch  had  given  them.  "Truly,"  said  he, 
"there  are  no  means  by  which  we  may  prevent  his  going 


592  THE  MABINOGEON 

away  at  enmity  with  us  that  we  will  not  take.'*  "Well, 
lord,"  said  they,  "send  after  him  another  embassy."  "I 
will  do  so,"  said  he.  "Arise,  Manawyddan,  son  of  Llyr, 
and  Heveyd  Hir,  and  go  after  him,  and  tell  him  that 
he  shall  have  a  sound  horse  for  every  one  that  has  been 
injured.  And  beside  that,  as  an  atonement  for  the  in- 
sult, he  shall  have  a  staff  of  silver  as  large  and  as  tall 
as  himself,  and  a  plate  of  gold  of  the  breadth  of  his 
face.  And  show  unto  him  who  it  was  that  did  this,  and 
that  it  was  done  against  my  will ;  but  that  he  who  did  it 
is  my  brother,  and  therefore  it  would  be  hard  for  me 
to  put  him  to  death.  And  let  him  come  and  meet  me," 
said  he,  "and  we  will  make  peace  in  any  way  he  may 
desire." 

The  embassy  went  after  Matholch,  and  told  him  all 
these  sayings  in  a  friendly  manner;  and  he  listened 
thereunto.  "Men,"  said  he,  "I  will  take  counsel."  So  to 
the  council  he  went.  And  in  the  council  they  consid- 
ered that,  if  they  should  refuse  this,  they  were  likely 
to  have  more  shame  rather  than  to  obtain  so  great  an 
atonement.  They  resolved,  therefore,  to  accept  it,  and 
they  returned  to  the  court  in  peace. 

Then  the  pavilions  and  the  tents  were  set  in  order, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  hall;  and  they  went  to  meat, 
and  as  they  had  sat  at  the  beginning  of  the  feast  so 
sat  they  there.  And  Matholch  and  Bendigeid  Vran  began 
to  discourse;  and,  behold,  it  seemed  to  Bendigeid  Vran, 
while  they  talked,  that  Matholch  was  not  so  cheerful 
as  he  had  been  before.  And  he  thought  that  the  chief- 
tain might  be  sad  because  of  the  smallness  of  the  atone- 
ment which  he  had  for  the  wrong  that  had  been  done 
him.  "O  man,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "thou  dost  not 
discourse  to-night  so  cheerfully  as  thou  wast  wont.  And 
if  it  be  because  of  the  smallness  of  the  atonement,  thou 
shalt  add  thereunto  whatsoever  thou  mayest  choose,  and 
to-morrow  I  will  pay  thee  for  the  horses."  "Lord,"  said 
he,  "Heaven  reward  thee!"  "And  I  will  enhance  the 
atonement,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "for  I  will  give  unto 
thee  a  caldron,  the  property  of  which  is,  that  if  one  of 
thy  men  be  slain  to-day,  and  be  cast  therein,  to-morrow 
he  will  be  as  well  as  ever  he  was  at  the  best,  except 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR    593 

that  he  will  not  regain  his  speech."  And  thereupon  he 
gave  him  great  thanks,  and  very  joyful  was  he  for  that 
cause. 

That  night  they  continued  to  discourse  as  much  as 
they  would,  and  had  minstrelsy  and  carousing;  and 
when  it  was  more  pleasant  to  them  to  sleep  than  to 
sit  longer,  they  went  to  rest.  And  thus  was  the  ban- 
quet carried  on  with  joyousness;  and  when  it  was  fin- 
ished, Matholch  journeyed  towards  Ireland,  and  Bran- 
wen  with  him;  and  they  went  from  Aber  Menei  with 
thirteen  ships,  and  came  to  Ireland.  And  in  Ireland 
was  there  great  joy  because  of  their  coming.  And  not 
one  great  man  nor  noble  lady  visited  Branwen  unto 
whom  she  gave  not  either  a  clasp  or  a  ring,  or  a  royal 
jewel  to  keep,  such  as  it  was  honorable  to  be  seen  de- 
parting with.  And  in  these  things  she  spent  that  year 
in  much  renown,  and  she  passed  her  time  pleasantly, 
enjoying  honor  and  friendship.  And  in  due  time  a  son 
was  born  unto  her,  and  the  name  that  they  gave  him 
was  Gwern,  the  son  of  Matholch,  and  they  put  the  boy 
out  to  be  nursed  in  a  place  where  were  the  best  men 
of  Ireland. 

And,  behold,  in  the  second  year  a  tumult  arose  in 
Ireland,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  Matholch  had 
received  in  Wales,  and  the  payment  made  him  for  his 
horses.  And  his  foster-brothers,  and  such  as  were  near- 
est to  him,  blamed  him  openly  for  that  matter.  And  he 
might  have  no  peace  by  reason  of  the  tumult,  until  they 
should  revenge  upon  him  this  disgrace.  And  the  ven- 
geance which  they  took  was  to  drive  away  Branwen 
from  the  same  chamber  with  him,  and  to  make  her  cook 
for  the  court;  and  they  caused  the  butcher,  after  he 
had  cut  up  the  meat,  to  come  to  her  and  give  her  every 
day  a  blow  on  the  ear;  and  such  they  made  her  pun- 
ishment. 

"Verily,  lord,"  said  his  men  to  Matholch,  "forbid 
now  the  ships  and  the  ferry-boats,  and  the  coracles,  that 
they  go  not  into  Wales,  and  such  as  come  over  from 
Wales  hither,  imprison  them,  that  they  go  not  back  for 
this  thing  to  be  known,  there."  And  he  did  so ;  and  it 
was  thus  for  no  less  than  three  years. 


594  THE  MABINOGEON 

And  Branwen  reared  a  starling  in  the  cover  of  the 
kneading-trough,  and  she  taught  it  to  speak,  and  she 
taught  the  bird  what  manner  of  man  her  brother  was. 
And  she  wrote  a  letter  of  her  woes,  and  the  despite 
with  which  she  was  treated,  and  she  bound  the  letter 
to  the  root  of  the  bird's  wing,  and  sent  it  toward  Wales. 
And  the  bird  came  to  that  island;  and  one  day  it  found 
Bendigeid  Vran  at  Caer  Seiont  in  Arvon,  conferring 
there,  and  it  alighted  upon  his  shoulder,  and  ruffled  its 
feathers,  so  that  the  letter  was  seen,  and  they  knew 
that  the  bird  had  been  reared  in  a  domestic  manner. 

Then  Bendigeid  Vran  took  the  letter  and  looked  upon 
it.  And  when  he  had  read  the  letter,  he  grieved  ex- 
ceedingly at  the  tidings  of  Branwen's  woes.  And  im- 
mediately he  began  sending  messengers  to  summon  the 
island  together.  And  he  caused  seven-score  and  four 
of  his  chief  men  to  come  unto  him,  and  he  complained 
to  them  of  the  grief  that  his  sister  endured.  So  they 
took  counsel.  And  in  the  counsel  they  resolved  to  go 
to  Ireland,  and  to  leave  seven  men  as  princes  at  home, 
and  Caradoc,1  the  son  of  Bran,  as  the  chief  of  them. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  with  the  host  of  which  we  spoke, 
sailed  towards  Ireland;  and  it  was  not  far  across  the 
sea,  and  he  came  to  shoal  water.  Now  the  swine-herds 
of  Matholch  were  upon  the  sea-shore,  and  they  came 
to  Matholch.  "Lord,"  said  they,  "greeting  be  unto  thee." 
"Heaven  protect  you!"  said  he;  "have  you  any  news?" 
"Lord,"  said  they,  "we  have  marvellous  news.  A  wood 
have  we  seen  upon  the  sea,  in  a  place  where  we  never 
yet  saw  a  single  tree."  "This  is  indeed  a  marvel,"  said 
he;  "saw  you  aught  else?"  "We  saw,  lord,"  said  they, 
"a  vast  mountain  beside  the  wood,  which  moved,  and 
there  was  a  lofty  ridge  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and 
a  lake  on  each  side  of  the  ridge.  And  the  wood  and 
the  mountain,  and  all  these  things,  moved."  "Verily," 
said  he,  "there  is  none  who  can  know  aught  concerning 
this  unless  it  be  Branwen." 

Messengers  then  went  unto  Branwen.  "Lady,"  said 
they,  "what  thinkest  thou  that  this  is?"  "The  men  of 
the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  who  have  come  hither  on  hear- 

1  Caractacus. 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR    595 

ing  of  my  ill-treatment  and  of  my  woes."  "What  is  the 
forest  that  is  seen  upon  the  sea?"  asked  they.  "The 
yards  and  the  masts  of  ships,"  she  answered.  "Alas !" 
said  they;  "what  is  the  mountain  that  is  seen  by  the 
side  of  the  ships?"  "Bendigeid  Vran,  my  brother," 
she  replied,  "coming  to  shoal  water,  and  he  is  wading 
to  the  land."  "What  is  the  lofty  ridge,  with  the  lake 
on  each  side  thereof  ?"  "On  looking  towards  this  island 
he  is  wroth,  and  his  two  eyes  on  each  side  of  his  nose 
are  the  two  lakes  on  each  side  of  the  ridge." 

The  warriors  and  chief  men  of  Ireland  were  brought 
together  in  haste,  and  they  took  counsel.  "Lord,"  said 
the  neighbors  unto  Matholch,  "there  is  no  other  counsel 
than  this  alone.  Thou  shalt  give  the  kingdom  to  Gwern, 
the  son  of  Branwen  his  sister,  as  a  compensation  for 
the  wrong  and  despite  that  have  been  done  unto  Bran- 
wen.  And  he  will  make  peace  with  thee."  And  in  the 
council  it  was  resolved  that  this  message  should  be  sent 
to  Bendigeid  Vran,  lest  the  country  should  be  destroyed. 
And  this  peace  was  made.  And  Matholch  caused  a  great 
house  to  be  built  for  Bendigeid  Vran,  and  his  host. 
Thereupon  came  the  hosts  into  the  house.  The  men 
of  the  island  of  Ireland  entered  the  house  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  on  the 
other.  And  as  soon  as  they  had  sat  down,  there  was 
concord  between  them ;  and  the  sovereignty  was  con- 
ferred upon  the  boy.  When  the  peace  was  concluded, 
Bendigeid  Vran  called  the  boy  unto  him,  and  from 
Bendigeid  Vran  the  boy  went  unto  Manawyddan;  and 
he  was  beloved  by  all  that  beheld  him.  And  from 
Manawyddan  the  boy  was  called  by  Nissyen,  the  son 
of  Euroswydd,  and  the  boy  went  unto  him  lovingly. 
"Wherefore,"  said  Evnissyen,  "comes  not  my  nephew, 
the  son  of  my  sister,  unto  me?  Though  he  were  not 
king  of  Ireland,  yet  willingly  would  I  fondle  the  boy." 
"Cheerfully  let  him  go  to  thee,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran; 
and  the  boy  went  unto  him  cheerfully.  "By  my  con- 
fession to  Heaven,"  said  Evnissyen  in  his  heart,  "un- 
thought  of  is  the  slaughter  that  I  will  this  instant  com- 
mit." 

Then  he  arose  and  took  up  the  boy,  and  before  any 


596  THE  MABINOGEON 

one  in  the  house  could  seize  hold  of  him  he  thrust  the 
boy  headlong  into  the  blazing  fire.  And  when  Branwen 
saw  her  son  burning  in  the  fire,  she  strove  to  leap  into 
the  fire  also,  from  the  place  where  she  sat  between  her 
two  brothers.  But  Bendigeid  Vran  grasped  her  with 
one  hand,  and  his  shield  with  the  other.  Then  they  all 
hurried  about  the  house,  and  never  was  there  made  so 
great  a  tumult  by  any  host  in  one  house  as  was  made 
by  them,  as  each  man  armed  himself.  And  while  they 
all  sought  their  arms  Bendigeid  Vran  supported  Bran- 
wen  between  his  shield  and  his  shoulder.  And  they 
fought. 

Then  the  Irish  kindled  a  fire  under  the  caldron  of 
renovation,  and  they  cast  the  dead  bodies  into  the  cal- 
dron until  it  was  full ;  and  the  next  day  they  came  forth 
fighting  men,  as  good  as  before,  except  that  they  were 
not  able  to  speak.  Then  when  Evnissyen  saw  the  dead 
bodies  of  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  nowhere 
resuscitated,  he  said  in  his  heart,  "Alas !  woe  is  me, 
that  I  should  have  been  the  cause  of  bringing  the  men 
of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  into  so  great  a  strait.  Evil 
betide  me  if  I  find  not  a  deliverance  therefrom."  And 
he  cast  himself  among  the  dead  bodies  of  the  Irish; 
and  two  unshod  Irishmen  came  to  him,  and,  taking  him 
to  be  one  of  the  Irish,  flung  him  into  the  caldron.  And 
he  stretched  himself  out  in  the  caldron,  so  that  he  rent 
the  caldron  into  four  pieces,  and  burst  his  own  heart 
also. 

In  consequence  of  this,  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the 
Mighty  obtained  such  success  as  they  had;  but  they 
were  not  victorious,  for  only  seven  men  of  them  all 
escaped,  and  Bendigeid  Vran  himself  was  wounded  in 
the  foot  with  a  poisoned  dart.  Now  the  men  that 
escaped  were  Pryderi,  Manawyddan,  Taliesin,  and  four 
others. 

And  Bendigeid  Vran  commanded  them  that  they 
should  cut  off  his  head.  "And  take  you  my  head,"  said 
he,  "and  bear  it  even  unto  the  White  Mount  in  Lon- 
don, and  bury  it  there  with  the  face  towards  France. 
And  so  long  as  it  lies  there,  no  enemy  shall  ever  land 
on  the  island."  So  they  cut  off  his  head,  and  these 


MANAWYDDAN  597 

seven  went  forward  therewith.  And  Branwen  was  the 
eighth  with  them.  And  they  came  to  land  on  Aber 
Alaw,  and  they  sat  down  to  rest.  And  Branwen  looked 
towards  Ireland,  and  towards  the  Island  of  the  Mighty, 
to  see  if  she  could  descry  them.  "Alas !"  said  she,  "woe 
is  me  that  I  was  ever  born;  two  islands  have  been  de- 
stroyed because  of  me."  Then  she  uttered  a  groan,  and 
there  broke  her  heart.  And  they  made  her  a  four-sided 
grave,  and  buried  her  upon  the  banks  of  the  Alaw. 

Then  the  seven  men  journeyed  forward,  bearing  the 
head  with  them;  and  as  they  went,  behold  there  met 
them  a  multitude  of  men  and  women.  "Have  you  any 
tidings?"  said  Manawyddan.  "We  have  none,"  said 
they,  "save  that  Caswallawn,1  the  son  of  Beli,  has  con- 
quered the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  and  is  crowned  king 
in  London."  "What  has  become,"  said  they,  "of  Cara- 
doc,  the  son  of  Bran,  and  the  seven  men  who  were  left 
with  him  in  this  island  ?"  "Caswallawn  came  upon  them, 
and  slew  six  of  the  men,  and  Caradoc's  heart  broke  for 
grief  thereof."  And  the  seven  men  journeyed  on  to- 
wards London,  and  they  buried  the  head  in  the  White 
Mount,  as  Bendigeid  Vran  had  directed  them.2 


CHAPTER  X 

MANAWYDDAN 

PWYLL  and  Rhiannon  had  a  son,  whom  they  named 
Pryderi.  And  when  he  was  grown  up,  Pwyll,  his  father, 
died.  And  Pryderi  married  Kicva,  the  daughter  of 
Gwynn  Gloy. 

Now  Manawyddan  returned  from  the  war  in  Ireland, 
and  he  found  that  his  cousin  had  seized  all  his  pos- 
sessions, and  much  grief  and  heaviness  came  upon  him. 
"Alas!  woe  is  me!"  he  exclaimed;  "there  is  none  save 

1  Cassivellaunus. 

*  There  is  a  Triad  upon  *he  story  of  the  head  buried  under  the  White 
Tower  of  London,  as  a  charm  against  invasion.  Arthur,  it  seems,  proudly 
disinterred  the  head,  preferring  to  hold  the  island  by  his  own  strength 
alone. 


598  THE  MABINOGEON 

myself  without  a  home  and  a  resting-place."  "Lord/* 
said  Pryderi,  "be  not  so  sorrowful.  Thy  cousin  is  king 
of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  and  though  he  has  done 
thee  wrong,  thou  hast  never  been  a  claimant  of  land  or 
possessions."  "Yea,"  answered  he,  "but  although  this 
man  is  my  cousin,  it  grieveth  me  to  see  any  one  in  the 
place  of  my  brother,  Bendigeid  Vran ;  neither  can  I  be 
happy  in  the  same  dwelling  with  him."  "Wilt  thou  fol- 
low the  counsel  of  another?"  said  Pryderi.  "I  stand  in 
need  of  counsel,"  he  answered,  "and  what  may  that 
counsel  be?"  "Seven  cantrevs  belong  unto  me,"  said 
Pryderi,  "wherein  Rhiannon,  my  mother,  dwells.  I  will 
bestow  her  upon  thee,  and  the  seven  cantrevs  with  her; 
and  though  thou  hadst  no  possessions  but  those  cantrevs 
only,  thou  couldst  not  have  any  fairer  than  they.  Do 
thou  and  Rhiannon  enjoy  them,  and  if  thou  desire  any 
possessions  thou  wilt  not  despise  these."  "I  do  not, 
chieftain,"  said  he.  "Heaven  reward  thee  for  the  friend- 
ship! I  will  go  with  thee  to  seek  Rhiannon,  and  to 
look  at  thy  possessions."  "Thou  wilt  do  well,"  he  an- 
swered;  "and  I  believe  that  thou  didst  never  hear  a 
lady  discourse  better  than  she,  and  when  she  was  in  her 
prime,  none  was  ever  fairer.  Even  now  her  aspect  is 
not  uncomely." 

They  set  forth,  and,  however  long  the  journey,  they 
came  at  last  to  Dyved;  and  a  feast  was  prepared  for 
them  by  Rhiannon  and  Kicva.  Then  began  Manawyd- 
dan  and  Rhiannon  to  sit  and  to  talk  together;  and  his 
mind  and  his  thoughts  became  warmed  towards  her,  and 
he  thought  in  his  heart  he  had  never  beheld  any  lad> 
more  fulfilled  of  grace  and  beauty  than  she.  "Pryderi/' 
said  he,  "I  will  that  it  be  as  thou  didst  say."  "What 
saying  was  that?"  asked  Rhiannon.  "Lady,"  said  Pry- 
deri, "I  did  offer  thee  as  a  wife  to  Manawyddan,  the 
son  of  Llyr."  "By  that  will  I  gladly  abide,"  said  Rhian- 
non. "Right  glad  am  I  also,"  said  Manawyddan,  "may 
Heaven  reward  him  who  hath  shown  unto  me  friendship 
so  perfect  as  this!" 

And  before  the  feast  was  over  she  became  his  bride. 
Said  Pryderi,  "Tarry  ye  here  the  rest  of  the  feast,  and 
I  will  go  into  England  to  tender  my  homage  unto  Cas- 


MANAW^DDAN  599 

n/allawn,  the  son  of  Beli."  "Lord,"  said  Rhiannon, 
;<Caswallawn  is  in  Kent;  thou  mayest  therefore  tarry 
at  the  feast,  and  wait  until  he  shall  be  nearer."  "We 
will  wait,"  he  answered.  So  they  finished  the  feast. 
And  they  began  to  make  the  circuit  of  Dyved,  and  to 
hunt,  and  to  take  their  pleasure.  And  as  they  went 
through  the  country,  they  had  never  seen  lands  more 
pleasant  to  live  in,  nor  better  hunting  grounds,  nor 
greater  plenty  of  honey  and  fish.  And  such  was  the 
friendship  between  these  four,  that  they  would  not  be 
parted  from  each  other  by  night  nor  by  day. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  he  went  to  Caswallawn 
at  Oxford,  and  tendered  his  homage;  and  honorable 
was  his  reception  there,  and  highly  was  he  praised  for 
offering  his  homage. 

And  after  his  return  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  feast- 
ed and  took  their  ease  and  pleasure.  And  they  began 
a  feast  at  Narberth,  for  it  was  the  chief  palace.  And 
when  they  had  ended  the  first  meal,  while  those  who 
served  them  ate,  they  arose  and  went  forth,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Gorsedd,  that  is,  the  Mount  of  Nar- 
berth, and  their  retinue  with  them.  And  as  they  sat  thus, 
behold  a  peal  of  thunder,  and  with  the  violence  of  the 
thunder-storm,  lo !  there  came  a  fall  of  mist,  so  thick 
that  not  one  of  them  could  see  the  other.  And  after 
the  mist  it  became  light  all  around.  And  when  they 
looked  towards  the  place  where  they  were  wont  to  see 
the  cattle  and  herds  and  dwellings,  they  saw  nothing 
now,  neither  house,  nor  beast,  nor  smoke,  nor  fire,  nor 
man,  nor  dwelling,  but  the  buildings  of  the  court  empty, 
and  desert,  and  uninhabited,  without  either  man  or  beast 
within  them.  And  truly  all  their  companions  were  lost 
to  them,  without  their  knowing  aught  of  what  had  be- 
fallen them,  save  those  four  only. 

"In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  said  Manawyddan,  "where 
are  they  of  the  court,  and  all  my  host  beside?  Let 
us  go  and  see." 

So  they  came  to  the  castle,  and  saw  no  man,  and  into 
the  hall,  and  to  the  sleeping-place,  and  there  was  none; 
and  in  the  mead-cellar  and  in  the  kitchen  there  was 
naught  but  desolation.  Then  they  began  to  go  through 


600  THE  MABINOGEON 

the  land,  and  all  the  possessions  that  they  had ;  and  they 
visited  the  houses  and  dwellings,  and  found  nothing  but 
wild  beasts.  And  when  they  had  consumed  their  feast 
and  all  their  provisions,  they  fed  upon  the  prey  they 
killed  in  hunting,  and  the  honey  of  the  wild  swans. 

And  one  morning  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  rose  up 
to  hunt,  and  they  ranged  their  dogs  and  went  forth. 
And  some  of  the  dogs  ran  before  them,  and  came  to  a 
bush  which  was  near  at  hand ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were 
come  to  the  bush,  they  hastily  drew  back,  and  returned 
to  the  men,  their  hair  bristling  up  greatly.  "Let  us  go 
near  to  the  bush,"  said  Pryderi,  "and  see  what  is  in  it." 
And  as  they  came  near,  behold,  a  wild  boar  of  a  pure 
white  color  rose  up  from  the  bush.  Then  the  dogs,  being 
set  on  by  the  men,  rushed  towards  him;  but  he  left  the 
bush,  and  fell  back  a  little  way  from  the  men,  and  made 
a  stand  against  the  dogs,  without  retreating  from  them, 
until  the  men  had  come  near.  And  when  the  men  came 
up,  he  fell  back  a  second  time,  and  betook  him  to  flight. 
Then  they  pursued  the  boar  until  they  beheld  a  vast  and 
lofty  castle,  all  newly  built,  in  a  place  where  they  had 
never  before  seen  either  stone  or  building.  And  the  boar 
ran  swiftly  into  the  castle,  and  the  dogs  after  him. 
Now  when  the  boar  and  the  dogs  had  gone  into  the 
castle,  the  men  began  to  wonder  at  finding  a  castle  in 
a  place  where  they  had  never  before  seen  any  building 
whatsoever.  And  from  the  top  of  the  Gorsedd  they 
looked  and  listened  for  the  dogs.  But  so  long  as  they 
were  there,  they  heard  not  one  of  the  dogs,  nor  aught 
concerning  them. 

"Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  "I  will  go  into  the  castle  to  get 
tidings  of  the  dogs."  "Truly,"  he  replied,  "thou  wouldst 
be  unwise  to  go  into  this  castle,  which  thou  hast  never 
seen  till  now.  If  thou  wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou 
wouldst  not  enter  therein.  Whosoever  has  cast  a  spell 
over  this  land,  has  caused  this  castle  to  be  here."  "Of 
a  truth,"  answered  Pryderi,  "I  cannot  thus  give  up  my 
dogs."  And  for  all  the  counsel  that  Manawyddan  gave 
him,  yet  to  the  castle  he  went. 

When  he  came  within  the  castle,  neither  man  nor 
beast,  nor  boar,  nor  dogs,  nor  house,  nor  dwelling,  saw 


MANAWYDDAN  601 

he  within  it.  But  in  the  centre  of  the  castle-floor  he 
beheld  a  fountain  with  marble-work  around  it,  and  on 
the  margin  of  the  fountain  a  golden  bowl  upon  a  marble 
slab,  and  chains  hanging  from  the  air,  to  which  he  saw 
no  end. 

And  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  beauty  of  the 
gold,  and  with  the  rich  workmanship  of  the  bowl;  and 
he  went  up  to  the  bowl,  and  laid  hold  of  it.  And  when 
he  had  taken  hold  of  it,  his  hands  stuck  to  the  bowl,  and 
his  feet  to  the  slab  on  which  the  bowl  was  placed;  and 
all  his  joyousness  forsook  him,  so  that  he  could  not 
utter  a  word.  And  thus  he  stood. 

And  Manawyddan  waited  for  him  till  near  the  close, 
of  the  day.  And  late  in  the  evening,  being  certain  that 
he  should  have  no  tidings  of  Pryderi  or  the  dogs,  he 
went  back  to  the  palace.  And  as  he  entered,  Rhiannon 
looked  at  him.  "Where,"  said  she,  "are  thy  compan- 
ion and  thy  dogs?"  "Behold,"  he  answered,  "the  ad- 
venture that  has  befallen  me."  And  he  related  it  all 
unto  her.  "An  evil  companion  hast  thou  been,"  said 
Rhiannon,  "and  a  good  companion  hast  thou  lost."  And 
with  that  word  she  went  out,  and  proceeded  towards  the 
castle,  according  to  the  direction  which  he  gave  her. 
The  gate  of  the  castle  she  found  open.  She  was  noth- 
ing daunted,  and  she  went  in.  And  as  she  went  in,  she 
perceived  Pryderi  laying  hold  of  the  bowl,  and  she  went 
towards  him.  "O  my  lord,"  said  she,  "what  dost  thou 
here?"  And  she  took  hold  of  the  bowl  with  him;  and 
as  she  did  so,  her  hands  also  became  fast  to  the  bowl, 
and  her  feet  to  the  slab,  and  she  was  not  able  to  utter  a 
word.  And  with  that,  as  it  became  night,  lo!  there 
came  thunder  upon  them,  and  a  fall  of  mist ;  and  there- 
upon the  castle  vanished,  and  they  with  it. 

When  Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Gwynn  Gloy,  saw  that 
there  was  no  one  in  the  palace  but  herself  and  Mana- 
wyddan, she  sorrowed  so  that  she  cared  not  whether 
she  lived  or  died.  And  Manawyddan  saw  this.  "Thou 
art  in  the  wrong,"  said  he,  "if  through  fear  of  me  thou 
grievest  thus.  I  call  Heaven  to  witness  that  thou  hast 
never  seen  friendship  more  pure  than  that  which  I  will 
bear  thee,  as  long  as  Heaven  will  that  thou  shouldst  be 


602  THE  MABINOGEON 

thus.  I  declare  to  thee,  that,  were  I  in  the  dawn  of 
youth,  I  would  keep  my  faith  unto  Pryderi,  and  unto 
thee  also  will  I  keep  it.  Be  there  no  fear  upon  thee, 
therefore."  "Heaven  reward  thee!"  she  said;  "and  that 
is  what  I  deemed  of  thee."  And  the  damsel  thereupon 
took  courage,  and  was  glad. 

"Truly,  lady,"  said  Manawyddan,  "it  is  not  fitting  for 
us  to  stay  here;  we  have  lost  our  dogs,  and  cannot  get 
food.  Let  us  go  into  England;  it  is  easiest  for  us  to 
find  support  there."  "Gladly,  lord,"  said  she,  "we  will 
do  so."  And  they  set  forth  together  to  England. 

"Lord,"  said  she,  "what  craft  wilt  thou  follow  ?  Take 
up  one  that  is  seemly."  "None  other  will  I  take,"  an- 
swered he,  "but  that  of  making  shoes."  "Lord,"  said 
she,  "such  a  craft  becomes  not  a  man  so  nobly  born 
as  thou."  "By  that  however  will  I  abide,"  said  he.  "I 
know  nothing  thereof,"  said  Kicva.  "But  I  know,"  an- 
swered Manawyddan,  "and  I  will  teach  thee  to  stitch. 
We  will  not  attempt  to  dress  the  leather,  but  we  will 
buy  it  ready  dressed,  and  will  make  the  shoes  from  it." 

So  they  went  into  England,  and  went  as  far  as  Here- 
ford ;  and  they  betook  themselves  to  making  shoes.  And 
he  began  by  buying  the  best  cordwain  that  could  be  had 
in  the  town,  and  none  other  would  buy.  And  he  as- 
sociated himself  with  the  best  goldsmith  in  the  town, 
and  caused  him  to  make  clasps  for  the  shoes,  and  to 
gild  the  clasps;  and  he  marked  how  it  was  done  until 
he  learned  the  method.  And  therefore  is  he  called 
one  of  the  three  makers  of  gold  shoes.  And  when  they 
could  be  had  from  him,  not  a  shoe  nor  hose  was  bought 
of  any  of  the  cordwainers  in  the  town.  But  when  the 
cordwainers  perceived  that  their  gains  were  failing  (for 
as  Manawyddan  shaped  the  work,  so  Kicva  stitched  it), 
they  came  together  and  took  counsel,  and  agreed  that 
they  would  slay  them.  And  he  had  warning  thereof,  and 
it  was  told  him  how  the  cordwainers  had  agreed  to- 
gether to  slay  him. 

"Lord,"  said  Kicva,  "wherefore  should  this  be  borne 
from  these  boors?"  "Nay,"  said  he,  "we  will  go  back 
unto  Dyved."  So  towards  Dyved  they  set  forth. 

Now   Manawyddan,   when   he   set  out   to   return   to 


MANAWYDDAN  603 

Dyved,  took  with  him  a  burden  of  wheat.  And  he  pro- 
ceeded towards  Narberth,  and  there  he  dwelt.  And 
never  was  he  better  pleased  than  when  he  saw  Narberth 
again,  and  the  lands  where  he  had  been  wont  to  hunt 
with  Pryderi  and  with  Rhiannon.  And  he  accustomed 
himself  to  fish,  and  to  hunt  the  deer  in  their  covert. 
And  then  he  began  to  prepare  some  ground,  and  he 
sowed  a  croft,  and  a  second,  and  a  third.  And  no  wheat 
in  the  world  ever  sprung  up  better.  And  the  three 
crofts  prospered  with  perfect  growth,  and  no  man  ever 
saw  fairer  wheat  than  it. 

And  thus  passed  the  seasons  of  the  year  until  the 
harvest  came.  And  he  went  to  look  at  one  of  his  crofts, 
and,  behold,  it  was  ripe.  "I  will  reap  this  to-morrow," 
said  he.  And  that  night  he  went  back  to  Narberth,  and 
on  the  morrow,  in  the  gray  dawn,  he  went  to  reap  the 
croft;  and  when  he  came  there,  he  found  nothing  but 
the  bare  straw.  Every  one  of  the  ears  of  the  wheat 
was  cut  off  from  the  stalk,  and  all  the  ears  carried  en- 
tirely away,  and  nothing  but  the  straw  left.  And  at  this 
he  marvelled  greatly. 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  another  croft,  and,  behold, 
that  also  was  ripe.  "Verily,"  said  he,  "this  will  I  reap 
to-morrow."  And  on  the  morrow  he  came  with  the  in- 
tent to  reap  it ;  and  when  he  came  there,  he  found  noth- 
ing but  the  bare  straw.  "O  gracious  Heaven !"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  know  that  whosoever  has  begun  my  ruin 
is  completing  it,  and  has  also  destroyed  the  country  with 
me." 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  third  croft;  and  when 
he  came  there,  finer  wheat  had  there  never  been  seen, 
and  this  also  was  ripe.  "Evil  betide  me,"  said  he,  "if 
I  watch  not  here  to-night.  Whoever  carried  off  the 
other  corn  will  come  in  like  manner  to  take  this,  and  I 
will  know  who  it  is."  And  he  told  Kicva  all  that  had 
befallen.  "Verily,"  said  she,  "what  thinkest  thou  to 
do?"  "I  will  watch  the  croft  to-night,"  said  he.  And 
he  went  to  watch  the  croft. 

And  at  midnight  he  heard  something  stirring  among 
the  wheat ;  and  he  looked,  and  behold,  the  mightiest  host 
of  mice  in  the  world,  which  could  neither  be  numbered 


604  THE  MABINOGEON 

nor  measured.  And  he  knew  not  what  it  was  until  the 
mice  had  made  their  way  into  the  croft,  and  each  of 
them,  climbing  up  the  straw,  and  bending  it  down  with 
its  weight,  had  cut  off  one  of  the  ears  of  wheat,  and 
had  carried  it  away,  leaving  there  the  stalk;  and  he  saw 
not  a  single  straw  there  that  had  not  a  mouse  to  it.  And 
they  all  took  their  way,  carrying  the  ears  with  them. 

In  wrath  and  anger  did  he  rush  upon  the  mice;  but 
lie  could  no  more  come  up  with  them  than  if  they  had 
been  gnats  or  birds  of  the  air,  except  one  only,  which, 
though  it  was  but  sluggish,  went  so  fast  that  a  man  on 
foot  could  scarce  overtake  it.  And  after  this  one  he 
went,  and  he  caught  it,  and  put  it  in  his  glove,  and 
tied  up  the  opening-  of  the  glove  with  a  string,  and  kept 
it  with  him,  and  returned  to  the  palace.  Then  he  came 
to  the  hall  where  Kicva  was,  and  he  lighted  a  fire,  and 
hung  the  glove  by  the  string  upon  a  peg.  "What  hast 
thou  there,  lord?"  said  Kicva.  "A  thief/'  said  he,  "that 
I  found  robbing  me."  "What  kind  of  a  thief  may  it  be, 
lord,  that  thou  couldst  put  into  thy  glove?"  said  she. 
Then  he  told  her  how  the  mice  came  to  the  last  of  the 
fields  in  his  sight.  "And  one  of  them  was  less  nimble 
than  the  rest,  and  is  now  in  my  glove ;  to-morrow  I  will 
hang  it."  "My  lord,"  said  she,  "this  is  marvellous ;  but 
yet  it  would  be  unseemly  for  a  man  of  dignity  like  thee 
to  be  hanging  such  a  reptile  as  this."  "Woe  betide  me," 
said  he,  "if  I  would  not  hang  them  all,  could  I  catch 
them,  and  such  as  I  have  I  will  hang."  "Verily,  lord," 
said  she,  "there  is  no  reason  that  I  should  succor  this 
reptile,  except  to  prevent  discredit  unto  thee.  Do  there- 
fore, lord,  as  thou  wilt." 

Then  he  went  to  the  Mound  of  Narberth,  taking  the 
mouse  with  him.  And  he  set  up  two  forks  on  the  high- 
est part  of  the  mound.  And  while  he  was  doing  this, 
behold,  he  saw  a  scholar  coming  towards  him,  in  old 
and  poor  and  tattered  garments.  And  it  was  now  seven 
years  since  he  had  seen  in  that  place  either  man  or  beast, 
except  those  four  persons  who  had  remained  together 
until  two  of  them  were  lost. 

"My  lord,"  said  the  scholar,  "good-day  to  thee." 
"Heaven  prosper  thee,  and  my  greeting  be  unto  thee! 


MANAWYDDAN  605 

And  whence  dost  them  come,  scholar?'*  asked  he.  "I 
come,  lord,  from  singing  in  England ;  and  wherefore  dost 
thou  inquire?"  "Because  for  the  last  seven  years,"  an- 
swered he,  "I  have  seen  no  man  here  save  four  secluded 
persons,  and  thyself  this  moment."  "Truly,  lord,"  said 
he,  "I  go  through  this  land  unto  mine  own.  And  what 
work  art  thou  upon,  lord?"  "I  am  hanging  a  thief  that 
I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  "What  manner  of  thief 
is  that?"  asked  the  scholar.  "I  see  a  creature  in  thy 
hand  like  unto  a  mouse,  and  ill  does  it  become  a  man 
of  rank  equal  to  thine  to  touch  a  reptile  such  as  this. 
Let  it  go  forth  free."  "I  will  not  let  it  go  free,  by 
Heaven,"  said  he;  "I  caught  it  robbing  me,  and  the 
doom  of  a  thief  will  I  inflict  upon  it,  and  I  will  hang 
it."  "Lord,"  said  he,  "rather  than  see  a  man  of  rank 
equal  to  thine  at  such  a  work  as  this,  I  would  give  thee 
a  pound,  which  I  have  received  as  alms,  to  let  the  rep- 
tile go  forth  free."  "I  will  not  let  it  go  free,"  said  he, 
"neither  will  I  sell  it."  "As  thou  wilt,  lord,"  he  an- 
swered; "I  care  naught."  And  the  scholar  went  his 
way. 

And  as  he  was  placing  the  cross-beam  upon  the  two 
forks,  behold,  a  priest  came  towards  him,  upon  a  horse 
covered  with  trappings.  "Good  day  to  thee,  lord,"  said 
he.  "Heaven  prosper  thee !"  said  Manawyddan ;  "thy 
blessing."  "The  blessing  of  Heaven  be  upon  thee!  And 
what,  lord,  art  thou  doing?"  "I  am  hanging  a  thief  that 
I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  "What  manner  of  thief, 
lord?"  asked  he.  "A  creature,"  he  answered,  "in  form 
of  a  mouse.  It  has  been  robbing  me,  and  I  am  inflict- 
ing upon  it  the  doom  of  a  thief."  "Lord,"  said  he, 
"rather  than  see  thee  touch  this  reptile,  I  would  pur- 
chase its  freedom."  "By  my  confession  to  Heaven, 
neither  will  I  sell  it  nor  set  it  free."  "It  is  true,  lord, 
that  it  is  worth  nothing  to  buy ;  but  rather  than  see  thee 
defile  thyself  by  touching  such  a  reptile  as  this,  I  will 
give  thee  three  pounds  to  let  it  go."  "I  will  not,  by 
Heaven,"  said  he,  "take  any  price  for  it.  As  it  ought, 
so  shall  it  be  hanged."  And  the  priest  went  his  way. 

Then  he  noosed  the  string  around  the  mouse's  neck, 
and  as  he  was  about  to  draw  it  up,  behold,  he  saw  a 


606  THE  MABINOGEON 

bishop's  retinue,  with  his  sumpter-horses  and  his  at- 
tendants. And  the  bishop  himself  came  towards  him. 
And  he  stayed  his  work.  "Lord  Bishop,"  said  he,  "thy 
blessing."  "Heaven's  blessing  be  unto  thee !"  said  he. 
"What  work  art  thou  upon?"  "Hanging  a  thief  that  I 
caught  robbing  me/'  said  he.  "Is  not  that  a  mouse  that 
I  see  in  thy  hand?"  "Yes,"  answered  he,  "and  she  has 
robbed  me."  "Ay,"  said  he,  "since  I  have  come  at  the 
doom  of  this  reptile  I  will  ransom  it  of  thee.  I  will 
give  thee  seven  pounds  for  it,  and  that  rather  than  see 
a  man  of  rank  equal  to  thine  destroying  so  vile  a  reptile 
as  this.  Let  it  loose,  and  thou  shalt  have  the  money." 
"I  declare  to  Heaven  that  I  will  not  let  it  loose."  "If 
thou  wilt  not  loose  it  for  this,  I  will  give  thee  four  and 
twenty  pounds  of  ready  money  to  set  it  free."  "I  will 
not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven,  for  as  much  again,"  said 
he.  "If  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free  for  this,  I  will  give 
thee  all  the  horses  that  thou  seest  in  this  plain,  and  the 
seven  loads  of  baggage,  and  the  seven  horses  that  they 
are  upon."  "By  Heaven,  I  will  not,"  he  replied.  "Since 
for  this  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free,  do  so  at  what  price 
soever  thou  wilt."  "I  will  that  Rhiannon  and  Pryderi 
be  free,"  said  he.  "That  thou  shalt  have,"  he  answered. 
"Not  yet  will  I  loose  the  mouse,  by  Heaven."  "What 
then  wouldst  thou  ?"  "That  the  charm  and  the  illusion  be 
removed  from  the  seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved."  "This  shalt 
thou  have  also ;  set  therefore  the  mouse  free."  "I  will  not 
set  it  free,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "till  I  know  who  the 
mouse  may  be."  "She  is  my  wife."  "Wherefore  came  she 
to  me?"  "To  despoil  thee,"  he  answered.  "I  am  Lloyd, 
the  son  of  Kilwed,  and  I  cast  the  charm  over  the  seven 
cantrevs  of  Dyved.  And  it  was  to  avenge  Gawl,  the 
son  of  Clud,  from  the  friendship  I  had  towards  him, 
that  I  cast  the  charm.  And  upon  Pryderi  did  I  avenge 
Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  for  the  game  of  Badger  in  the 
Bag,  that  Pwyll,  the  son  of  Auwyn,  played  upon  him. 
And  when  it  was  known  that  thou  wast  come  to  dwell 
in  the  land,  my  household  came  and  besought  me  to 
transform  them  into  mice,  that  they  might  destroy  thy 
corn.  And  they  went  the  first  and  the  second  night,  and 
destroyed  thy  two  crops.  And  the  third  night  came  unto 


MANAWYDDAN  607 

me  my  wife  and  the  ladies  of  the  court,  and  besought 
me  to  transform  them.  And  I  transformed  them.  Now 
she  is  not  in  her  usual  health.  And  had  she  been  in  her 
usual  health,  thou  wouldst  not  have  been  able  to  over- 
take her;  but  since  this  has  taken  place,  and  she  has 
been  caught,  I  will  restore  to  thee  Pryderi  and  Rhian- 
non,  and  I  will  take  the  charm  and  illusion  from  off 
Dyved.  Set  her  therefore  free."  "I  will  not  set  her 
free  yet/'  "What  wilt  thou  more?"  he  asked.  "I  will 
that  there  be  no  more  charm  upon  the  seven  cantrevs 
of  Dyved,  and  that  none  shall  be  put  upon  it  hence- 
forth ;  moreover,  that  vengeance  be  never  taken  for  this, 
either  upon  Pryderi  or  Rhiannon,  or  upon  me."  "All 
this  shalt  thou  have.  And  truly  thou  hast  done  wisely 
in  asking  this.  Upon  thy  head  would  have  lit  all  this 
trouble."  "Yea,"  said  he,  "for  fear  thereof  was  it  that 
I  required  this."  "Set  now  my  wife  at  liberty."  "1 
will  not,"  said  he,  "until  I  see  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon 
with  me  free."  "Behold,  here  they  come,"  he  answered. 

And  thereupon  behold  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon.  And 
he  rose  up  to  meet  them,  and  greeted  them,  and  sat 
down  beside  them.  "Ah,  chieftain,  set  now  my  wife  at 
liberty,"  said  the  bishop.  "Hast  thou  not  received  all 
thou  didst  ask?"  "I  will  release  her,  gladly,"  said  he. 
And  thereupon  he  set  her  free. 

Then  he  struck  her  with  a  magic  wand,  and  she  was 
changed  back  into  a  young  woman,  the  fairest  ever  seen. 

"Look  round  upon  thy  land,"  said  he,  "and  thou  wilt 
see  it  all  tilled  and  peopled  as  it  was  in  its  best  estate." 
And  he  rose  up  and  looked  forth.  And  when  he  looked 
he  saw  all  the  lands  tilled,  and  full  of  herds  and  dwell- 
ings. 

And  thus  ends  this  portion  of  the  Mabinogi. 


The  following  allusions  to  the  preceding  story  are 
found  in  a  letter  of  the  poet  Southey  to  John  Rickman, 
Esq.,  dated  June  6th,  1802 : 

"You  will  read  the  Mabinogeon,  concerning  which  I 
ought  to  have  talked  to  you.  In  the  last,  that  most 
odd  and  Arabian-like  story  of  the  mouse,  mention  is 


608  THE  MABINOGEON 

made  of  a  begging  scholar,  that  helps  to  the  date;  but 
where  did  the  Cymri  get  the  imagination  that  could  pro- 
duce such  a  tale?  That  enchantment  of  the  basin  hang- 
ing by  the  chain  from  heaven  is  in  the  wildest  spirit  of 
the  Arabian  Nights.  1  am  perfectly  astonished  that  such 
fictions  should  exist  in  Welsh.  They  throw  no  light  on 
the  origin  of  romance,  everything  being  utterly  dissimi- 
lar to  what  we  mean  by  that  term,  but  they  do  open  a 
new  world  of  fiction;  and  if  the  date  of  their  language 
be  fixed  about  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  I  can- 
not but  think  the  mythological  substance  is  of  far  earlier 
date;  very  probably  brought  from  the  East  by  some  of 
the  first  settlers  or  conquerors." 


CHAPTER   XI 

KILWICH    AND   OLWEN 

KILYDD,  a  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  desired  a  wife  as  a 
helpmate,  and  the  wife  that  he  chose  was  Goleudid,  the 
daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd.  And  after  their  union  the 
people  put  up  prayers  that  they  might  have  an  heir. 
And  they  had  a  son  through  the  prayers  of  the  people; 
and  called  his  name  Kilwich. 

After  this  the  boy's  mother,  Goleudid,  the  daughter 
of  Prince  Anlawd,  fell  sick.  Then  she  called  her  hus- 
band to  her,  and  said  to  him,  "Of  this  sickness  I  shall 
die,  and  thou  wilt  take  another  wife.  Now  wives  are 
the  gift  of  the  Lord,  but  it  would  be  wrong  for  thee 
to  harm  thy  son.  Therefore  I  charge  thee  that  thou  take 
not  a  wife  until  thou  see  a  briar  with  two  blossoms  upon 
my  grave."  And  this  he  promised  her.  Then  she  be- 
sought him  to  dress  her  grave  every  year,  that  no  weeds 
might  grow  thereon.  So  the  queen  died.  Now  the  king 
sent  an  attendant  every  morning  to  see  if  anything  were 
growing  upon  the  grave.  And  at  the  end  of  the  seventh 
year  they  neglected  that  which  they  had  promised  to  the 
queen. 

One  day  the  king  went  to  hunt;  and  he  rode  to  the 
place  of  burial,  to  see  the  grave,  and  to  know  if  it  were 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  609 

time  that  he  should  take  a  wife:  and  the  king  saw  the 
briar.  And  when  he  saw  it,  the  king  took  counsel  where 
he  should  find  a  wife.  Said  one  of  his  counsellors,  "I 
know  a  wife  that  will  suit  thee  well;  and  she  is  the 
wife  of  King  Doged."  And  they  resolved  to  go  to  seek 
her;  and  they  slew  the  king,  and  brought  away  his  wife. 
And  they  conquered  the  kings'  lands.  And  he  married 
the  widow  of  King  Doged,  the  sister  of  Yspadaden  Pen- 
kawr. 

And  one  day  his  stepmother  said  to  Kilwich,  "It  were 
well  for  thee  to  have  a  wife."  "I  am  not  yet  of  an  age 
to  wed,"  answered  the  youth.  Then  said  she  unto  him, 
"I  declare  to  thee  that  it  is  thy  destiny  not  to  be  suited 
with  a  wife  until  thou  obtain  Olwen,  the  daughter  of 
Yspadaden  Penkawr."  And  the  youth  blushed,  and  the 
love  of  the  maiden  diffused  itself  through  all  his  frame, 
although  he  had  never  seen  her.  And  his  father  in- 
quired of  him,  "What  has  come  over  thee,  my  son,  and 
what  aileth  thee?"  "My  stepmother  has  declared  to 
me  that  I  shall  never  have  a  wife  until  I  obtain  Olwen, 
the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  "That  will  be 
easy  for  thee,"  answered  his  father.  "Arthur  is  thy 
cousin.  Go,  therefore,  unto  Arthur,  to  cut  thy  hair,  and 
ask  this  of  him  as  a  boon." 

And  the  youth  pricked  forth  upon  a  steed  with  head 
dappled  gray,  four  winters  old,  firm  of  limb,  with  shell- 
formed  hoofs,  having  a  bridle  of  linked  gold  on  his 
head,  and  upon  him  a  saddle  of  costly  gold.  And  in 
the  youth's  hand  were  two  spears  of  silver,  sharp,  well- 
tempered,  headed  with  steel,  three  ells  in  length,  of  an 
edge  to  wound  the  wind,  and  cause  blood  to  flow,  and 
swifter  than  the  fall  of  the  dew-drop  from  the  blade 
of  reed-grass,  when  the  dew  of  June  is  at  the  heaviest. 
A  gold-hilted  sword  was  upon  his  thigh,  the  blade  of 
which  was  gilded,  bearing  a  cross  of  inlaid  gold  of  the 
hue  of  the  lightning  of  heaven.  His  war-horn  was  of 
ivory.  Before  him  were  two  brindled,  white-breasted 
greyhounds,  having  strong  collars  of  rubies  about  their 
necks,  reaching  from  the  shoulder  to  the  ear.  And  the 
one  that  was  upon  the  left  side  bounded  across  to  the 
right  side,  and  the  one  on  the  right  to  the  left,  and.  like 


610  THE  MABINOGEON 

two  sea-swallows,  sported  around  him.  And  his  courser 
cast  up  four  sods,  with  his  four  hoofs,  like  four  swal- 
lows in  the  air,  about  his  head,  now  above,  now  below 
About  him  was  a  four-cornered  cloth  of  purple,  and 
an  apple  of  gold  was  at  each  corner,  and  every  one  of 
the  apples  was  of  the  value  of  an  hundred  kine.  And 
there  was  precious  geld  of  the  value  of  three  hundred 
kine  upon  his  shoes,  and  upon  his  stirrups,  from  his 
knee  to  the  tip  of  his  toe.  And  the  blade  of  grass  bent 
not  beneath  him,  so  light  was  his  courser's  tread,  as  he 
journeyed  toward  the  gate  of  Arthur's  palace. 

Spoke  the  youth:  "Is  there  a  porter?"  "There  is;  and 
if  thou  holdest  not  thy  peace,  small  will  be  thy  wel- 
come. I  am  Arthur's  porter  every  first  day  of  Janu- 
ary." "Open  the  portal."  "I  will  not  open  it."  "Where- 
fore not?"  "The  knife  is  in  the  meat,  and  the  drink 
is  in  the  horn,  and  there  is  revelry  in  Arthur's  hall ;  and 
none  may  enter  therein  but  the  son  of  a  king  of  a  privi- 
leged country,  or  a  craftsman  bringing  his  craft.  But 
there  will  be  refreshment  for  thy  dogs  and  for  thy 
horse;  and  for  thee  there  will  be  collops  cooked  and 
peppered,  and  luscious  wine,  and  mirthful  songs ;  and 
food  for  fifty  men  shall  be  brought  unto  thee  in  the 
guest-chamber,  where  the  stranger  and  the  sons  of  other 
countries  eat,  who  come  not  into  the  precincts  of  the 
palace  of  Arthur.  Thou  wilt  fare  no  worse  there  than 
thou  wouldst  with  Arthur  in  the  court.  A  lady  shall 
smooth  thy  couch,  and  shall  lull  thee  with  songs;  and 
early  to-morrow  morning,  when  the  gate  is  open  for  the 
multitude  that  came  hither  to-day,  for  thee  shall  it  be 
opened  first,  and  thou  mayest  sit  in  the  place  that  thou 
shalt  choose  in  Arthur's  hall,  from  the  upper  end  to  the 
lower."  Said  the  youth :  "That  will  I  not  do.  If  thou 
openest  the  gate,  it  is  well.  If  thou  dost  not  open  it, 
I  will  bring  disgrace  upon  thy  lord,  and  evil  report 
upon  thee.  And  I  will  set  up  three  shouts  at  this  very 
gate,  than  which  none  were  ever  heard  more  deadly." 
"What  clamor  soever  thou  mayest  make,"  said  Glewl- 
wyd,  the  porter,  "against  the  laws  of  Arthur's  palace, 
shalt  thou  not  enter  therein,  until  I  first  go  and  speak 
with  Arthur." 


KILWIC1I  AND  OLWEN  611 

Then  Glewlwyd  went  into  the  hall.  And  Arthur  said 
to  him,  "Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate?"  "Half  of  my 
life  is  passed,"  said  Glewlwyd,  "and  half  of  thine.  I 
was  heretofore  in  Kaer  Se  and  Asse,  in  Sach  and  Sa- 
lach,  in  Lotor  and  Fotor,  and  I  have  been  in  India  the 
Great  and  India  the  Lesser,  and  I  have  also  been  in 
Europe  and  Africa,  and  in  the  islands  of  Corsica,  and 
I  was  present  when  thou  didst  conquer  Greece  in  the 
East.  Nine  supreme  sovereigns,  handsome  men,  saw  we 
there,  but  never  did  I  behold  a  man  of  equal  dignity 
with  him  who  is  now  at  the  door  of  the  portal."  Then 
said  Arthur:  "If  walking  thou  didst  enter  here,  return 
thou  running.  It  is  unbecoming  to  keep  such  a  man 
as  thou  sayest  he  is  in  the  wind  and  the  rain."  Said 
Kay :  "By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  if  thou  wouldst  fol- 
low my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  break  through  the 
laws  of  the  court  because  of  him."  "Not  so,  blessed 
Kay,"  said  Arthur;  "it  is  an  honor  to  us  to  be  resorted 
to,  and  the  greater  our  courtesy,  the  greater  will  be  our 
renown  and  our  fame  and  our  glory." 

And  Glewlwyd  came  to  the  gate,  and  opened  the  gate 
before  Kilwich :  and  although  all  dismounted  upon  the 
horse-block  at  the  gate,  yet  did  he  not  dismount,  but  he 
rode  in  upon  his  charger.  Then  said  he,  "Greeting  be 
unto  thee,  sovereign  ruler  of  this  island,  and  be  this 
greeting  no  less  unto  the  lowest  than  unto  the  highest, 
and  be  it  equally  unto  thy  guests,  and  thy  warriors,  and 
thy  chieftains;  let  all  partake  of  it  as  completely  as 
thyself.  And  complete  be  thy  favor,  and  thy  fame,  and 
thy  glory,  throughout  all  this  island."  "Greeting  unto 
thee  also,"  said  Arthur;  "sit  thou  between  two  of  my 
warriors,  and  thou  shalt  have  minstrels  before  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  enjoy  the  privileges  of  a  king  born  to  a 
throne,  as  long  as  thou  remainest  here.  And  when  I 
disperse  my  presents  to  the  visitors  and  strangers  in 
this  court,  they  shall  be  in  thy  hand  at  my  commencing." 
Said  the  youth,  "I  came  not  here  to  consume  meat  and 
drink ;  but  if  I  obtain  the  boon  that  I  seek,  I  will  requite 
it  thee,  and  extol  thee;  but  if  I  have  it  not,  I  will  bear 
forth  thy  dispraise  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  world, 
as  far  as  thy  renown  has  extended."  Then  said  Arthur, 


612  THE  MABINOGEON 

"Since  thou  wilt  not  remain  here,  chieftain,  thou  shall 
receive  the  boon,  whatsoever  thy  tongue  may  name,  as 
far  as  the  wind  dries,  and  the  rain  moistens,  and  the  sun 
revolves,  and  the  sea  encircles,  and  the  earth  extends; 
save  only  my  ship  Prydwen,  and  my  mantle,  and  Cali- 
burn,  my  sword,  and  Rhongomyant,  my  lance,  and 
Guenever,  my  wife.  By  the  truth  of  Heaven,  thou  shalt 
have  it  cheerfully,  name  what  thou  wilt."  "I  would 
that  thou  bless  my  hair,"  said  he.  "That  shall  be  grant- 
ed thee." 

And  Arthur  took  a  golden  comb,  and  scissors  where- 
of the  loops  were  of  silver,  and  he  combed  his  hair. 
And  Arthur  inquired  of  him  who  he  was ;  "for  my  heart 
warms  unto  thee,  and  I  know  that  thou  art  come  of 
my  blood.  Tell  me,  therefore,  who  thou  art."  "I  will 
tell  thee,"  said  the  youth.  "I  am  Kilwich,  the  son  of 
Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  by  Goleudyd,  my 
mother,  the  daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd."  "That  is 
true,"  said  Arthur;  "thou  art  my  cousin.  Whatsoever 
boon  thou  mayest  ask,  thou  shalt  receive,  be  it  what  it 
may  that  thy  tongue  shall  name."  "Pledge  the  truth  of 
Heaven  and  the  faith  of  thy  kingdom  thereof."  "I 
pledge  it  thee  gladly."  "I  crave  of  thee,  then,  that  thou 
obtain  for  me  Olwen,  the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Pen- 
kawr,  to  wife;  and  this  boon  I  likewise  seek  at  the 
hands  of  thy  warriors.  I  seek  it  from  Kay  and  from 
Bedwyr;  and  from  Gwynn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  and 
Gadwy,  the  son  of  Geraint,  and  Prince  Flewddur  Flam, 
and  lona,  king  of  France,  and  Sel,  the  son  of  Selgi, 
and  Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards,  and  Geraint,  the 
son  of  Erbin,  Garanwyn,  the  son  of  Kay,  and  Amren, 
the  son  of  Bedwyr,  Ol,  the  son  of  Olwyd,  Bedwin,  the 
bishop,  Guenever,  the  chief  lady,  and  Guenhywach,  her 
sister,  Morved,  the  daughter  of  Urien,  and  Gwenlian 
Deg,  the  majestic  maiden,  Creiddylad,1  the  daughter  of 

1  Creiddylad  is  no  other  than  Shakspeare's  Cordelia,  whose  father.  King 
Lear,  is  by  the  Welsh  authorities  called  indiscriminately  Llyr  or  Lludd. 
All  the  old  chronicles  give  the  story  of  her  devotion  to  her  aged  parent, 
but  none  of  them  seem  to  have  been  aware  that  she  is  destined  to  remain 
with  him  till  the  day  of  doom,  whilst  Gwyn  ap  Nudd,  the  king  of  the 
fairies,  and  Gwythyr  op  Greidiol,  fight  for  her  every  first  of  May,  and 
whichever  of  them  may  be  fortunate  enough  to  be  the  conqueror  at  that 
time  will  obtain  her  as  a  bride. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  613 

Lludd,  the  constant  maiden,  and  Ewaedah,  the  daughter 
of  Kynvelyn,1  the  half-man."  All  these  did  Kilwich,  the 
son  of  Kilydd,  adjure  to  obtain  his  boon. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "O  chieftain,  I  have  never  heard 
of  the  maiden  of  whom  thou  speakest,  nor  of  her  kin- 
dred, but  I  will  gladly  send  messengers  in  search  of  her. 
Give  me  time  to  seek  her."  And  the  youth  said,  "I  will 
willingly  grant  from  this  night  to  that  at  the  end  of  the 
year  to  do  so."  Then  Arthur  sent  messengers  to  every 
land  within  his  dominions  to  seek  for  the  maiden,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  year  Arthur's  messengers  returned 
without  having  gained  any  knowledge  or  intelligence 
concerning  Olwen,  more  than  on  the  first  day.  Then 
said  Kilwich,  "Every  one  has  received  his  boon,  and 
I  yet  lack  mine.  I  will  depart,  and  bear  away  thy  honor 
with  me."  Then  said  Kay,  "Rash  chieftain!  dost  thou 
reproach  Arthur?  Go  with  us,  and  we  will  not  part 
until  thou  dost  either  confess  that  the  maiden  exists 
not  in  the  world,  or  until  we  obtain  her."  Thereupon 
Kay  rose  up.  And  Arthur  called  Bedwyr,  who  never 
shrank  from  any  enterprise  upon  which  Kay  was  bound. 
None  were  equal  to  him  in  swiftness  throughout  this 
island  except  Arthur  alone ;  and  although  he  was  one 
handed ;  three  warriors  could  not  shed  blood  faster  than 
he  on  the  field  of  battle. 

And  Arthur  called  to  Kyndelig,  the  guide,  "Go  thou 
upon  this  expedition  with  the  chieftain."  For  as  good 
a  guide  was  he  in  a  land  which  he  had  never  seen  as  he 
was  in  his  own. 

He  called  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  because  he  knew  all 
tongues. 

He  called  Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  because  he  never 
returned  home  without  achieving  the  adventure  of  which 
he  went  in  quest. 

1The  Welsh  have  a  fable  on  the  subject  of  the  half-man,  taken  to  be 
illustrative  of  the  force  of  habit.  In  this  allegory  Arthur  is  supposed  to  be 
met  by  a  sprite,  who  appears  at  first  in  a  small  and  indistinct  form,  but 
who,  on  approaching  nearer,  increases  in  size,  and,  assuming  the  semblance 
of  half  a  man,  endfavors  to  provoke  the  king  to  wrestle.  Despising  his 
weakness,  and  considering  that  he  should  gain  no  credit  by  the  encounter, 
Arthur  refuses  to  do  so,  and  delays  the  contest  until  at  length  the  half-man 
(Habit)  becomes  so  strong  that  it  requires  his  utmost  efforts  to  overcome 
him. 


614  THE  MABINOGEON 

And  Arthur  called  Meneu,  the  son  of  Teirgwed,  in 
order  that,  if  they  went  into  a  savage  country,  he  might 
cast  a  charm  and  an  illusion  over  them,  so  that  none 
might  see  them,  whilst  they  could  see  every  one. 

They  journeyed  until  they  came  to  a  vast  open  plain, 
wherein  they  saw  a  great  castle,  which  was  the  fairest 
of  the  castles  of  the  world.  And  when  they  came  be- 
fore the  castle,  they  beheld  a  vast  flock  of  sheep.  And 
upon  the  top  of  a  mound  there  was  a  herdsman  keeping 
the  sheep.  And  a  rug  made  of  skins  was  upon  him,  and 
by  his  side  was  a  shaggy  mastiff,  larger  than  a  steed 
nine  winters  old. 

Then  said  Kay,  "Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  go  thou  and  salute 
yonder  man."  "Kay."  said  he,  "I  engaged  not  to  go 
further  than  thou  thyself."  "Let  us  go  then  together'/' 
answered  Kay.  Said  Meneu,  "Fear  not  to  go  thither, 
for  I  will  cast  a  spell  upon  the  dog,  so  that  he  shall 
injure  no  one."  And  they  went  up  to  the  mound  where- 
on the  herdsman  was,  and  they  said  to  him,  "How  dost 
thou  fare,  herdsman?"  "Not  less  fair  be  it  to  you  than 
to  me."  "Whose  are  the  sheep  that  thou  dost  keep,  and 
to  whom  does  yonder  castle  belong?"  "Stupid  are  ye, 
truly!  not  to  know  that  this  is  the  castle  of  Yspadaden 
Penkawr.  And  ye  also,  who  are  ye?"  "We  are  an  em- 
bassy from  Arthur,  come  to  seek  Olwen,  the  daughter 
of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  "O  men !  the  mercy  of  Heav- 
en be  upon  you;  do  not  that  for  all  the  world.  None 
who  ever  came  hither  on  this  quest  has  returned  alive." 
And  the  herdsman  rose  up.  And  as  he  rose  Kilwich 
gave  unto  him  a  ring  of  gold.  And  he  went  home  and 
gave  the  ring  to  his  spouse  to  keep.  And  she  took  the 
ring  when  it  was  given  her,  and  she  said,  "Whence  came 
this  ring,  for  thou  art  not  wont  to  have  good  fortune." 
"O  wife,  him  to  whom  this  ring  belonged  thou  shalt  see 
here  this  evening."  "And  who  is  he  ?"  asked  the  woman. 
"Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  by  Goleudid,  the  daughter 
of  Prince  Anlawd,  who  is  come  to  seek  Olwen  as  his 
wife."  And  when  she  heard  that,  she  had  joy  that  her 
nephew,  the  son  of  her  sister,  was  coming  to  her,  and 
sorrow,  because  she  had  never  known  any  one  depart 
alive  who  had  come  on  that  quest. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  615 

And  the  men  went  forward  to  the  gate  of  the  herds- 
man's dwelling.  And  when  she  heard  their  footsteps  ap- 
proaching, she  ran  out  with  joy  to  meet  them.  And  Kay 
snatched  a  billet  out  of  the  pile.  And  when  she  met 
them,  she  sought  to  throw  her  arms  about  their  necks. 
And  Kay  placed  the  log  between  her  two  hands,  and 
she  squeezed  it  so  that  it  became  a  twisted  coil.  "O 
woman,'*  said  Kay,  "if  thou  hadst  squeezed  me  thus, 
none  could  ever  again  have  set  their  affections  on  me. 
Evil  love  were  this."  They  entered  into  the  house  and 
were  served;  and  soon  after,  they  all  went  forth  to 
amuse  themselves.  Then  the  woman  opened  a  stone 
chest  that  was  before  the  chimney-corner,  and  out  of  it 
arose  a  youth  with  yellow,  curling  hair.  Said  Gurhyr, 
"It  is  a  pity  to  hide  this  youth.  I  know  that  it  is  not 
his  own  crime  that  is  thus  visited  upon  him."  "This  is 
but  a  remnant,"  said  the  woman.  "Three  and  twenty  of 
my  sons  has  Yspadaden  Penkawr  slain,  and  I  have  no 
more  hope  of  this  one  than  of  the  others."  Then  said 
Kay,  "Let  him  come  and  be  a  companion  with  me,  and 
he  shall  not  be  slain  unless  I  also  am  slain  with  him." 
And  they  ate.  And  the  woman  asked  them,  "Upon  what 
errand  come  you  here?"  "We  come  to  seek  Olwen  for 
this  youth."  Then  said  the  woman,  "In  the  name  of 
Heaven,  since  no  one  from  the  castle  hath  yet  seen  you, 
return  again  whence  you  came."  "Heaven  is  our  wit- 
ness, that  we  will  not  return  until  we  have  seen  the 
maiden.  Does  she  ever  come  hither,  so  that  she  may  be 
seen?"  "She  comes  here  every  Saturday  to  wash  her 
head,  and  in  the  vessel  where  she  washes  she  leaves  all 
her  rings,  and  she  never  either  comes  herself  or  sends 
any  messengers  to  fetch  them."  "Will  she  come  here 
if  she  is  sent  to?"  "Heaven  knows  that  I  will  not  de- 
stroy my  soul,  nor  will  I  betray  those  that  trust  me; 
unless  you  will  pledge  me  your  faith  that  you  will  not 
harm  her,  I  will  not  send  to  her."  "We  pledge  it,"  said 
they.  So  a  message  was  sent,  and  she  came. 

The  maiden  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  flame-colored 
silk,  and  about  her  neck  was  a  collar  of  ruddy  gold,  on 
which  were  precious  emeralds  and  rubies.  More  yellow 


616  THE  MABINOGEON 

was  her  head  than  the  flower  of  the  broom,1  and  her  skin 
was  whiter  than  the  foam  of  the  wave,  and  fairer  were 
her  hands  and  her  fingers  than  the  blossoms  of  the  wood- 
anemone  amidst  the  spray  of  the  meadow  fountain.  The 
eye  of  the  trained  hawk  was  not  brighter  than  hers. 
Her  bosom  was  more  snowy  than  the  breast  of  the  white 
swan,  her  cheek  was  redder  than  the  reddest  roses. 
Whoso  beheld  her  was  filled  with  her  love.  Four  white 
trefoils  sprung  up  wherever  she  trod.  And  therefore 
was  she  called  Olwen. 

She  entered  the  house  and  sat  beside  Kilwich  upon 
the  foremost  bench ;  and  as  soon  as  he  saw  her,  he  knew 
her.  And  Kilwich  said  unto  her,  "Ah!  maiden,  thou 
art  she  whom  I  have  loved;  come  away  with  me,  lest 
they  speak  evil  of  thee  and  of  me.  Many  a  day  have 
I  loved  thee."  "I  cannot  do  this,  for  I  have  pledged 
my  faith  to  my  father  not  to  go  without  his  counsel, 
for  his  life  will  last  only  until  the  time  of  my  espousals. 
Whatever  is  to  be,  must  be.  But  I  will  give  thee  advice, 
if  thou  wilt  take  it.  Go,  ask  me  of  my  father,  and  that 
which  he  shall  require  of  thee,  grant  it,  and  thou  wilt 
obtain  me;  but  if  thou  deny  him  anything,  thou  wilt  not 
obtain  me,  and  it  will  be  well  for  thee  if  thou  escape 
with  thy  life."  "I  promise  all  this,  if  occasion  offer," 
said  he. 

She  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  they  all  rose  up, 
and  followed  her  to  the  castle.  And  they  slew  the  nine 
porters,  that  were  at  the  nine  gates,  in  silence.  And 
they  slew  the  nine  watch-dogs  without  one  of  them  bark- 
ing. And  they  went  forward  to  the  hall. 

"The  greeting  of  Heaven  and  of  man  be  unto  thee, 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,"  said  they.  "And  you,  wherefore 
come  you?"  "We  come  to  ask  thy  daughter  Olwen  for 
Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon." 
"Where  are  my  pages  and  my  servants?  Raise  up  the 
forks  beneath  my  two  eyebrows,  which  have  fallen  over 

1  The  romancers  dwell  with  great  complacency  on  the  fair  hair  and 
delicate  complexion  of  their  heroines.  This  taste  continued  for  a  long  time, 
and  to  render  the  hair  light  was  an  object  of  education.  Even  when  wigs 
came  into  fashion  they  were  all  flaxen.  Such  was  the  color  of  the  hair  of 
the  Gauls  and  of  their  German  conquerors.  It  required  some  centuries  to 
reconcile  their  eyes  to  the  swarthy  beauties  of  their  Spanish  and  Italian 
neighbors. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  617 

my  eyes,  that  I  may  see  the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law." 
And  they  did  so.  "Come  hither  to-morrow,  and  you 
shall  have  an  answer." 

They  rose  to  go  forth,  and  Yspadaden  Penkawr  seized 
one  of  the  three  poisoned  darts  that  lay  beside  him,  and 
threw  it  after  them.  And  Bedwyr  caught  it,  and  flung 
it,  and  pierced  Yspadaden  Penkawr  grievously  with  it 
through  the  knee.  Then  he  said,  "A  cursed  ungentle 
son-in-law,  truly!  I  shall  ever  walk  the  worse  for  his 
rudeness,  and  shall  ever  be  without  a  cure.  This  poi- 
soned iron  pains  me  like  the  bite  of  a  gad-fly.  Cursed 
be  the  smith  who  forged  it,  and  the  anvil  on  which  it 
was  wrought!  So  sharp  is  it!" 

That  night  also  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  house 
of  the  herdsman.  The  next  day,  with  the  dawn,  they 
arrayed  themselves  and  proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  en- 
tered the  hall ;  and  they  said,  "Yspadaden  Penkawr,  give 
us  thy  daughter  in  consideration  of  her  dower  and  her 
maiden  fee,  which  we  will  pay  to  thee,  and  to  her  two 
kinswomen  likewise."  Then  he  said,  "Her  four  great- 
grandmothers  and  her  four  great-grandsires  are  yet  alive ; 
it  is  needful  that  I  take  counsel  of  them."  "Be  it  so," 
they  answered,  "we  will  go  to  meat."  As  they  rose  up 
he  took  the  second  dart  that  was  beside  him,  and  cast 
it  after  them.  And  Meneu,  the  son  of  Gawedd,  caught 
it,  and  flung  it  back  at  him,  and  wounded  him  in  the 
centre  of  the  breast.  "A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law, 
truly!"  said  he;  "the  hard  iron  pains  me  like  the  bite 
of  a  horse-leech.  Cursed  be  the  hearth  whereon  it  was 
heated,  and  the  smith  who  formed  it!  So  sharp  is  it! 
Henceforth,  whenever  I  go  up  hill,  I  shall  have  a  scant 
in  my  breath,  and  a  pain  in  my  chest,  and  I  shall  often 
loathe  my  food."  And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  third  day  they  returned  to  the  palace.  And 
Yspadaden  Penkawr  said  to  them,  "Shoot  not  at  me 
again  unless  you  desire  death.  Where  are  my  at- 
tendants? Lift  up  the  forks  of  my  eyebrows,  which 
have  fallen  over  my  eyeballs,  that  I  may  see  the  fashion 
of  my  son-in-law."  Then  they  arose,  and,  as  they  did 
so,  Yspadaden  Penkawr  took  the  third  poisoned  dart 
and  cast  it  at  them.  And  Kilwich  caught  it,  and  threw 


618  THE  MABINOGEON 

it  vigorously,  and  wounded  him  thr6ugh  the  eyeball.  C*A 
cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly!  As  long  as  I  remain 
alive,  my  eyesight  will  be  the  worse.  Whenever  I  go 
against  the  wind,  my  eyes  will  water;  and  peradventure 
my  head  will  burn,  and  I  shall  have  a  giddiness  every 
new  moon.  Like  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  is  the  stroke  of 
this  poisoned  iron.  Cursed  be  the  fire  in  which  it  was 
forged !"  And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  next  day  they  came  again  to  the  palace,  and 
they  said,  "Shoot  not  at  us  any  more,  unless  thou  de- 
sirest  such  hurt  and  harm  and  torture  as  thou  now  hast, 
and  even  more."  Said  Kilwich,  "Give  me  thy  daughter, 
and  if  thou  wilt  not  give  her,  thou  shalt  receive  thy 
death  because  of  her."  "Where  is  he  that  seeks  my 
daughter?  Come  hither  where  I  may  see  thee."  And 
they  placed  him  a  chair  face  to  face  with  him. 

Said  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  "Is  it  thou  that  seekest  my 
daughter  ?" 

"It  is  I,"  answered  Kilwich. 

"I  must  have  thy  pledge  that  thou  wilt  not  do  toward 
me  otherwise  than  is  just;  and  when  I  have  gotten  that 
which  I  shall  name,  my  daughter  thou  shalt  have." 

"I  promise  thee  that  willingly,"  said  Kilwich;  "name 
what  thou  wilt." 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "Seest  thou  yonder  red  tilled 
ground?" 

"I  see  it." 

"When  first  I  met  the  mother  of  this  maiden,  nine 
bushels  of  flax  were  sown  therein,  and  none  has  yet 
sprung  up,  white  nor  black.  I  require  to  have  the  flax 
to  sow  in  the  new  land  yonder,  that  when  it  grows  up 
it  may  make  a  white  wimple  for  my  daughter's  head  on 
the  day  of  thy  wedding." 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou 
mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou  wilt 
not  get — the  harp  of  Teirtu,  to  play  to  us  that  night. 
When  a  man  desires  that  it  should  play,  it  does  so  of 
itself ;  and  when  he  desires  that  it  should  cease,  it  ceases. 
And  this  he  will  not  give  of  his  own  free  will,  and  thou 
wilt  not  be  able  to  compel  him." 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  619 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou 
mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou 
wilt  not  get.  I  require  thee  to  get  me  for  my  huntsman 
Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron.  He  was  taken  from  his 
mother  when  three  nights  old,  and  it  is  not  known  where 
he  now  is,  nor  whether  he  is  living  or  dead." 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou 
mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou 
wilt  not  get — the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi; 
no  leash  in  the  world  will  hold  them,  but  a  leash  made 
from  the  beard  of  Dillus  Varwawc,  the  robber.  And 
the  leash  will  be  of  no  avail  unless  it  be  plucked  from 
his  beard  while  he  is  alive.  While  he  lives  he  will  not 
suffer  this  to  be  done  to  him,  and  the  leash  will  be  of 
no  use  should  he  be  dead,  because  it  will  be  brittle." 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou 
mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou 
wilt  not  get — the  sword  of  Gwernach  the  Giant;  of  his 
own  free  will  he  will  not  give  it,  and  thou  wilt  never 
be  able  to  compel  him." 

"It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although  thou 
mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which  thou 
wilt  not  get.  Difficulties  shalt  thou  meet  with,  and  nights 
without  sleep,  in  seeking  this,  and  if  thou  obtain  it  not, 
neither  shalt  thou  obtain  my  daughter." 

"Horses  shall  I  have,  and  chivalry;  and  my  lord  and 
kinsman,  Arthur,  will  obtain  for  me  all  these  things. 
And  I  shall  gain  thy  daughter,  and  thou  shalt  lose  thy 
life." 

"Go  forward.  And  thou  shalt  not  be  chargeable  for 
food  or  raiment  for  my  daughter  while  thou  art  seek- 
ing these  things ;  and  when  thou  hast  compassed  all  these 
marvels,  thou  shalt  have  my  daughter  for  thy  wife." 


620  THE  MABINOGEON 

CHAPTER  XII 
KILWICH  AND  OLWEN   (Continued) 

ALL  that  day  they  journeyed  until  the  evening,  and 
then  they  beheld  a  vast  castle,  which  was  the  largest 
in  the  world.  And  lo!  a  black  man,  larger  than  three 
of  the  men  of  this  world,  came  out  from  the  castle. 
And  they  spoke  unto  him,  and  said,  "O  man,  whose 
castle  is  that?"  "Stupid  are  ye,  truly,  O  men!  There 
is  no  one  in  the  world  that  does  not  know  that  this  is 
the  castle  of  Gwernach  the  Giant."  "What  treatment 
is  there  for  guests  and  strangers  that  alight  in  that 
castle?"  "O  chieftain,  Heaven  protect  thee!  No  guests 
ever  returned  thence  alive,  and  no  one  may  enter  therein 
unless  he  brings  with  him  his  craft." 

Then  they  proceeded  towards  the  gate.  Said  Gurhyr 
Gwalstat,  "Is  there  a  porter?"  "There  is;  wherefore 
dost  thou  call  ?"  "Open  the  gate."  "I  will  not  open  it." 
"Wherefore  wilt  thou  not?"  "The  knife  is  in  the  meat, 
and  the  drink  is  in  the  horn,  and  there  is  revelry  in  the 
hall  of  Gwernach  the  Giant;  and  except  for  a  craftsman 
who  brings  his  craft,  the  gate  will  not  be  opened  to- 
night." "Verily,  porter,"  then  said  Kay,  "my  craft  bring 
I  with  me."  "What  is  thy  craft  ?"  "The  best  burnisher 
of  swords  am  I  in  the  world."  "I  will  go  and  tell  this 
unto  Gwernach  the  Giant,  and  I  will  bring  thee  an  an- 
swer." 

So  the  porter  went  in,  and  Gwernach  said  to  him, 
"Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate?"  "I  have.  There  is 
a  party  at  the  door  of  the  gate  who  desire  to  come 
in."  "Didst  thou  inquire  of  them  if  they  possessed  any 
art?"  "I  did  inquire,"  said  he,  "and  one  told  me  that 
he  was  well  skilled  in  the  burnishing  of  swords."  "We 
have  need  of  him  then.  For  some  time  have  I  sought 
for  some  one  to  polish  my  sword,  and  could  find  no 
one.  Let  this  man  enter,  since  he  brings  with  him  his 
craft." 

The  porter  thereupon  returned  and  opened  the  gate. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  621 

And  Kay  went  in  by  himself,  and  he  saluted  Gwernach 
the  Giant.  And  a  chair  was  placed  for  him  opposite 
to  Gwernach.  And  Gwernach  said  to  him,  "O  man,  is 
it  true  that  is  reported  of  thee,  that  thou  knowest  how 
to  burnish  swords?"  "I  know  full  well  how  to  do  so/' 
answered  Kay.  Then  was  the  sword  of  Gwernach 
brought  to  him.  And  Kay  took  a  blue  whetstone  from 
under  his  arm,  and  asked  whether  he  would  have  it  bur- 
nished white  or  blue.  "Dp  with  it  as  it  seems  good  to 
thee,  or  as  thou  wouldst  if  it  were  thine  own."  Then 
Kay  polished  one  half  of  the  blade,  and  put  it  in  his 
hand.  "Will  this  please  thee?"  asked  he.  "I  would 
rather  than  all  that  is  in  my  dominions  that  the  whole 
of  it  were  like  this.  It  is  a  marvel  to  me  that  such  a 
man  as  thou  should  be  without  a  companion."  "O  noble 
sir,  I  have  a  companion,  albeit  he  is  not  skilled  in  this 
art."  "Who  may  he  be?"  "Let  the  porter  go  forth, 
and  I  will  tell  him  whereby  he  may  know  him.  The 
head  of  his  lance  will  leave  its  shaft,  and  draw  blood 
from  the  wind,  and  will  descend  upon  its  shaft  again." 
Then  the  gate  was  opened,  and  Bedwyr  entered.  And 
Kay  said,  "Bedwyr  is  very  skilful,  though  he  knows  not 
this  art." 

And  there  was  much  discourse  among  those  who  were 
without,  because  that  Kay  and  Bedwyr  had  gone  in. 
And  a  young  man  who  was  with  them,  the  only  son  of 
the  herdsman,  got  in  also;  and  he  contrived  to  admit  all 
the  rest,  but  they  kept  themselves  concealed. 

The  sword  was  now  polished,  and  Kay  gave  it  unto 
the  hand  of  Gwernach  the  Giant,  to  see  if  he  were 
pleased  with  his  work.  And  the  giant  said,  "The  work 
is  good;  I  am  content  therewith."  Said  Kay,  "It  is  thy 
scabbard  that  hath  rusted  thy  sword ;  give  it  to  me,  that 
I  may  take  out  the  wooden  sides  of  it,  and  put  in  new 
ones."  And  he  took  the  scabbard  from  him,  and  the 
sword  in  the  other  hand.  And  he  came  and  stood  over 
against  the  giant,  as  if  he  would  have  put  the  sword  into 
the  scabbard;  and  with  it  he  struck  at  the  head  of  the 
giant,  and  cut  off  his  head  at  one  blow.  Then  they 
despoiled  the  castle,  and  took  from  it  what  goods  and 
jewels  they  would.  And  they  returned  to  Arthur's 


622  THE  MABINOGEON 

court,  bearing  with  them  the  sword  of  Gwernach  the 
Giant. 

And  when  they  told  Arthur  how  they  had  sped,  Arthur 
said,  "It  is  a  good  beginning."  Then  they  took  counsel, 
and  said,  "Which  of  these  marvels  will  it  be  best  for  us 
to  seek  next?"  "It  will  be  best,"  said  one,  "to  seek 
Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron;  and  he  will  not  be  found 
unless  we  first  find  Eidoel,  the  son  of  Aer,  his  kinsman." 
Then  Arthur  rose  up,  and  the  warriors  of  the  island  of 
Britain  with  him,  to  seek  for  Eidoel ;  and  they  proceed- 
ed until  they  came  to  the  castle  of  Glivi,  where  Eidoel 
was  imprisoned.  Glivi  stood  on  the  summit  of  his  castle, 
and  he  said,  "Arthur,  what  requirest  thou  of  me,  since 
nothing  remains  to  me  in  this  fortress,  and  I  have  neither 
joy  nor  pleasure  in  it,  neither  wheat  nor  oats?  Seek 
not,  therefore,  to  do  me  harm."  Said  Arthur,  "Not  to 
injure  thee  came  I  hither,  but  to  seek  for  the  prisoner 
that  is  with  thee."  "I  will  give  thee  my  prisoner,  though 
I  had  not  thought  to  give  him  up  to  any  one,  and  there- 
with shalt  thou  have  my  support  and  my  aid." 

His  followers  said  unto  Arthur,  "Lord,  go  thou  home, 
thou  canst  not  proceed  with  thy  host  in  quest  of  such 
small  adventures  as  these."  Then  said  Arthur,  "It  were 
\vell  for  thee,  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  to  go  upon  this  quest, 
for  thou  knowest  all  languages,  and  art  familiar  with 
those  of  the  birds  and  the  beasts.  Thou,  Eidoel,  oughtest 
likewise  to  go  with  thy  men  in  search  of  thy  cousin. 
And  as  for  you,  Kay  and  Bedwyr,  I  have  hope  of  what- 
ever adventure  ye  are  in  quest  of,  that  ye  will  achieve 
it.  Achieve  ye  this  adventure  for  me." 

They  went  forward  until  they  came  to  the  Ousel  of 
Cilgwri.  And  Gurhyr  adjured  her,  saying,  "Tell  me  if 
thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who 
was  taken  when  three  nights  old  from  between  his  mother 
and  the  wall  ?"  And  the  Ousel  answered,  "When  I  first 
came  here,  there  was  a  smith's  anvil  in  this  place,  and 
I  was  then  a  young  bird;  and  from  that  time  no  work 
has  been  done  upon  it,  save  the  pecking  of  my  beak 
every  evening;  and  now  there  is  not  so  much  as  the  size 
of  a  nut  remaining  thereof;  yet  during  all  that  time  I 
have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire. 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  623 

Nevertheless,  I  will  do  that  which  it  is  fitting  that  I 
should  for  an  embassy  from  Arthur.  There  is  a  race 
of  animals  who  were  formed  before  me,  and  I  will  be 
your  guide  to  them/' 

So  they  proceeded  to  the  place  where  was  the  Stag 
of  Redynvre.  "Stag  of  Redynvre,  behold,  we  are  come 
to  thee,  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  for  we  have  not  heard 
of  any  animal  older  than  thou.  Say,  knowest  thou  aught 
of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  from  his 
mother  when  three  nights  old?"  The  Stag  said,  "When 
first  I  came  hither  there  was  a  plain  all  around  me,  with- 
out any  trees  save  one  oak  sapling,  which  grew  up  to  be 
an  oak  with  an  hundred  branches;  and  that  oak  has 
since  perished,  so  that  now  nothing  remains  of  it  but 
the  withered  stump ;  and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have 
been  here,  yet  have  I  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom 
you  inquire.  Nevertheless,  being  an  embassy  from  Ar- 
thur, I  will  be  your  guide  to  the  place  where  there  is 
an  animal  which  was  formed  before  I  was,  and  the 
oldest  animal  in  the  world,  and  the  one  that  has  travelled 
most,  the  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy." 

Gurhyr  said,  "Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy,  we  have  come 
to  thee,  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  to  ask  thee  if  thou 
knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was 
taken  from  his  mother  when  he  was  three  nights  old?" 
The  Eagle  said,  "I  have  been  here  for  a  great  space  of 
time,  and  when  I  first  came  hither,  there  was  a  rock  here 
from  the  top  of  which  I  pecked  at  the  stars  every  even- 
ing; and  it  has  crumbled  away,  and  now  it  is  not  so  much 
as  a  span  high.  All  that  time  I  have  been  here,  and  I 
have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire,  ex- 
cept once  when  I  went  in  search  of  food  as  far  as  Llyn 
Llyw.  And  when  I  came  there,  I  struck  my  talons  into 
a  salmon,  thinking  he  would  serve  me  as  food  for  a  long 
time.  But  he  drew  me  into  the  water,  and  I  was  scarcely 
able  to  escape  from  him.  After  that  I  made  peace  with 
him.  And  I  drew  fifty  fish-spears  out  of  his  back,  and 
relieved  him.  Unless  he  know  something  of  him  whom 
you  seek,  I  cannot  tell  who  may.  However,  I  will  guide 
you  to  the  place  where  he  is." 

So  they  went  thither;  and  the  Eagle  said,  "Salmon  of 


624  THE  MABINOGEON 

Llyn  Llyw,  I  have  come  to  thee  with  an  embassy  from 
Arthur,  to  ask  thee  if  thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the 
son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken  away  at  three  nights  old 
from  his  mother."  "As  much  as  I  know  I  will  tell 
thee.  With  every  tide  I  go  along  the  river  upward, 
until  I  come  near  to  the  walls  of  Gloucester,  and  there 
have  I  found  such  wrong  as  I  never  found  elsewhere; 
and  to  the  end  that  ye  may  give  credence  thereto,  let 
one  of  you  go  thither  upon  each  of  my  two  shoulders." 
So  Kay  and  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  went  upon  the  two  shoul- 
ders of  the  Salmon,  and  they  proceeded  until  they  came 
unto  the  wall  of  the  prison;  and  they  heard  a  great 
wailing  and  lamenting  from  the  dungeon.  Said  Gurhyr, 
"Who  is  it  that  laments  in  this  house  of  stone?"  "Alas! 
it  is  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  is  here  imprisoned ; 
and  no  imprisonment  was  ever  so  grievous  as  mine." 
"Hast  thou  hope  of  being  released  for  gold  or  for  silver, 
or  for  any  gifts  of  wealth,  or  through  battle  and  fight- 
ing?" "By  righting  will  what  ever  I  may  gain  be  ob- 
tained." 

Then  they  went  thence,  and  returned  to  Arthur,  and 
they  told  him  where  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  was 
imprisoned.  And  Arthur  summoned  the  warriors  of  the 
island,  and  they  journeyed  as  far  as  Gloucester,  to  the 
place  where  Mabon  was  in  prison.  Kay  and  Bedwyr 
went  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  fish,  whilst  the  warriors 
of  Arthur  attacked  the  castle.  And  Kay  broke  through 
the  wall  into  the  dungeon,  and  brought  away  the  prisoner 
upon  his  back,  whilst  the  fight  was  going  on  between  the 
warriors.  And  Arthur  returned  home,  and  Mabon  with 
him  at  liberty. 

On  a  certain  day  as  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  was  walking 
over  a  mountain,  he  heard  a  wailing  and  a  grievous 
ery.  And  when  he  heard  it,  he  sprang  forward  and  went 
towards  it.  And  when  he  came  there,  he  saw  a  fire 
burning  among  the  turf,  and  an  ant-hill  nearly  sur- 
rounded with  the  fire.  And  he  drew  his  sword,  and 
smote  off  the  ant-hill  close  to  the  earth,  so  that  it  escaped 
being  burned  in  the  fire.  And  the  ants  said  to  hir?x 
"Receive  from  us  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  and  that  which 
no  man  can  give,  we  give  thee."  Then  they  fetched 


KILWICH  AND  OLWEN  625 

the  nine  bushels  of  flax-seed  which  Yspadaden  Penkawr 
had  required  of  Kilwich,  and  they  brought  the  full  meas- 
ure, without  lacking  any,  except  one  flax-seed,  and  that 
the  lame  pismire  brought  in  before  night. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "Which  of  the  marvels  will  it  be 
best  for  us  to  seek  next?"  "It  will  be  best  to  seek 
for  the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Cast  Rhymhi." 

"Is  it  known,"  said  Arthur,  "where  she  is?"  "She  is 
in  Aber  Cleddyf,"  said  one.  Then  Arthur  went  to  the 
house  of  Tringad,  in  Aber  Cleddyf,  and  he  inquired  of 
him  whether  he' had  heard  of  her  there.  "She  has  often 
slain  my  herds,  and  she  is  there  below  in  a  cave  in  Aber 
Cleddyf." 

Then  Arthur  went  in  his  ship  Prydwen  by  sea,  and 
the  others  went  by  land  to  hunt  her.  And  they  sur- 
rounded her  and  her  two  cubs,  and  took  them  and 
carried  them  away. 

As  Kay  and  Bedwyr  sat  on  a  beacon-cairn  on  the  sum- 
mit of  Plinlimmon,  in  the  highest  wind  that  ever  was, 
they  looked  around  them  and  saw  a  great  smoke,  afar 
off.  Then  said  Kay,  "By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  yonder 
is  the  fire  of  a  robber."  Then  they  hastened  towards 
the  smoke,  and  they  came  so  near  to  it  that  they  could 
see  Dillus  Varwawc  scorching  a  wild  boar.  "Behold, 
yonder  is  the  greatest  robber  that  ever  fled  from  Ar- 
thur," said  Bedwyr  to  Kay.  "Dost  thou  know  him?" 
"I  do  know  him,"  answered  Kay;  "he  is  Dillus  Varwarc, 
and  no  leash  in  the  world  will  be  able  to  hold  the  cubs 
of  Cast  Rhymi,  save  a  leash  made  from  the  beard  of 
him  thou  seest  yonder.  And  even  that  will  be  useless 
unless  his  beard  be  plucked  out  alive,  with  wooden 
tweezers ;  for  if  dead  it  will  be  brittle."  "What  thinkest 
thou  that  we  should  do  concerning  this?"  said  Bedwyr. 
"Let  us  suffer  him,"  said  Kay,  "to  eat  as  much  as  he 
will  of  the  meat,  and  after  that  he  will  fall  asleep."  And 
during  that  time  they  employed  themselves  in  making  the 
wooden  tweezers.  And  when  Kay  knew  certainly  that 
he  was  asleep,  he  made  a  pit  under  his  feet,  and  he 
struck  him  a  violent  blow,  and  squeezed  him  into  the 
pit.  And  there  they  twitched  out  his  beard  completely 
with  the  wooden  tweezers,  and  after  that  they  slew  him 


626  THE  MABINOGEON 

altogether.  And  from  thence  they  went,  and  took  the 
leash  made  of  Dillus  Varwawc's  beard,  and  they  gave 
it  into  Arthur's  hand. 

Thus  they  got  all  the  marvels  that  Yspadaden  Pen- 
kawr  had  required  of  Kilwich;  and  they  set  forward, 
and  took  the  marvels  to  his  court.  And  Kilwich  said 
to  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  "Is  thy  daughter  mine  now?" 
"She  is  thine,"  said  he,  "but  therefore  needest  thou  not 
thank  me,  but  Arthur,  who  hath  accomplished  this  for 
thee."  Then  Goreu,  the  son  of  Custennin,  the  herdsman, 
whose  brothers  Yspadaden  Penkawr  had  slain,  seized 
him  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  and  dragged  him  after  him 
to  the  keep,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  placed  it  on  a 
stake  on  the  citadel.  Then  they  took  possession  of  his 
castle,  and  of  his  treasures.  And  that  night  Ol\\en  be- 
came Kilwich's  bride,  and  she  continued  to  be  his  wife 
as  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

TALIESIN 

GWYDDNO  GARANHIR  was  sovereign  of  Gwaelod,  a  ter- 
ritory bordering  on  the  sea.  And  he  possessed  a  weir 
upon  the  strand  between  Dyvi  and  Aberystwyth,  near 
to  his  own  castle,  and  the  value  of  an  hundred  pounds 
was  taken  in  that  weir  every  May  eve.  And  Gwyddno 
had  an  only  son  named  Elphin,  the  most  hapless  of 
youths,  and  the  most  needy.  And  it  grieved  his  father 
sore,  for  he  thought  that  he  was  born  in  an  evil  hour. 
By  the  advice  of  his  council,  his  father  had  granted 
him  the  drawing  of  the  weir  that  year,  to  see  if  good 
luck  would  ever  befall  him,  and  to  give  him  something 
wherewith  to  begin  the  world.  And  this  was  on  the 
twenty-ninth  of  April. 

The  next  day,  when  Elphin  went  to  look,  there  was 
nothing  in  the  weir  but  a  leathern  bag  upon  a  pole  of 
the  weir.  Then  said  the  weir-ward  unto  Elphin,  "All  thy 
ill-luck  aforetime  was  nothing  to  this;  and  now  thou 


TALIESIN  627 

hast  destroyed  the  virtues  of  the  weir,  which  always 
yielded  the  value  of  an  hundred  pounds  every  May  eve; 
and  to-night  there  is  nothing  but  this  leathern  skin  with- 
in it."  "How  now,"  said  Elphin,  "there  may  be  therein 
the  value  of  a  hundred  pounds."  Well !  they  took  up  the 
leathern  bag,  and  he  who  opened  it  saw  the  forehead  of 
an  infant,  the  fairest  that  ever  was  seen ;  and  he  said, 
"Behold  a  radiant  brow?"  (In  the  Welsh  language, 
taliesin.)  "Taliesin  be  he  called,"  said  Elphin.  And 
he  lifted  the  bag  in  his  arms,  and,  lamenting  his  bad 
luck,  placed  the  boy  sorrowfully  behind  him.  And  he 
made  his  horse  amble  gently,  that  before  had  been  trot- 
ting, and  he  carried  him  as  softly  as  if  he  had  been  sit- 
ing in  the  easiest  chair  in  the  world.  And  presently  the 
boy  made  a  Consolation,  and  praise  to  Elphin;  and  the 
Consolation  was  as  you  may  here  see : 

"Fair  Klphin,  cease  to   lament! 
Never  in   Gwyddno's  weir 
Was  there  such  good  luck  as  this  night. 
Being  sad  will  not  avail ; 
Better  to  trust  in  God  than  to  forbode  ill; 
Weak  and  small  as  I  am, 
On  the  foaming  beach  of  the  ocean, 
In  the  day  of  trouble  I  shall  be 
Of  more  service  to  thee  than  three  hundred  salmon." 

This  was  the  first  poem  that  Taliesin  ever  sung,  being 
to  console  Elphin  in  his  grief  for  that  the  produce  of 
the  weir  was  lost,  and  what  was  worse,  that  all  the  world 
would  consider  that  it  was  through  his  fault  and  ill- 
luck.  Then  Elphin  asked  him  what  he  was,  whether 
man  or  spirit.  And  he  sung  thus : 

"I  have  been  formed  a  comely  person ; 
Although  I  am  but  little,  I  am  highly  gifted; 
Into  a  dark  leathern  bag  I  was  thrown, 
And  on  a  boundless  sea  I  was  sent  adrift. 
From  seas  and  from  mountains 
God  brings  wealth  to  the  fortunate  man." 

Then  came  Elphin  to  the  house  of  Gwyddno,  his 
father,  and  Taliesin  with  him.  Gwyddno  asked  him  if 
he  had  had  a  good  haul  at  the  weir,  and  he  told  him 


628  THE  MABINOGEON 

that  he  had  got  that  which  was  better  than  fish.  "What 
was  that  ?"  said  Gwyddno.  "A  bard,"  said  Elphin.  Then 
said  Gwyddno,  "Alas !  what  will  he  profit  thee  ?"  And 
Taliesin  himself  replied  and  said,  "He  will  profit  him 
more  than  the  weir  ever  profited  thee."  Asked  Gwyddno, 
"Art  thou  able  to  speak,  and  thou  so  little?"  And 
Taliesin  answered  him,  "I  am  better  able  to  speak  than 
thou  to  question  me."  "Let  me  hear  what  thou  canst 
say,"  quoth  Gwyddno.  Then  Taliesin  sang: 

"Three  times  have  I  been  born,  I  know  by  meditation; 
All  the  sciences  of  the  world  are  collected  in  my  breast, 
For  I  know  what  has  been,  and  what  hereafter  will  occur." 

Elphin  gave  his  haul  to  his  wife,  and  she  nursed  him 
tenderly  and  lovingly.  Thenceforward  Elphin  increased 
in  riches  more  and  more,  day  after  day,  and  in  love  and 
favor  with  the  king;  and  there  abode  Taliesin  until  he 
was  thirteen  years  old,  when  Elphin,  son  of  Gwyddno, 
went  by  a  Christmas  invitation  to  his  uncle,  Maelgan 
Gwynedd,  who  held  open  court  at  Christmas-tide  in  the 
castle  of  Dyganwy,  for  all  the  number  of  his  lords  of 
both  degrees,  both  spiritual  and  temporal,  with  a  vast 
and  thronged  host  of  knights  and  squires.  And  one 
arose  and  said,  "Is  there  in  the  whole  world  a  king  so 
great  as  Maelgan,  or  one  on  whom  Heaven  has  bestowed 
so  many  gifts  as  upon  him; — form,  and  beauty,  and 
meekness,  and  strength,  besides  all  the  powers  of  the 
soul?"  And  together  with  these  they  said  that  Heaven 
had  given  one  gift  that  exceeded  all  the  others,  which 
was  the  beauty,  and  grace,  and  wisdom,  and  modesty  of 
his  queen,  whose  virtues  surpassed  those  of  all  the  ladies 
and  noble  maidens  throughout  the  whole  kingdom.  And 
with  this  they  put  questions  one  to  another,  Who  had 
braver  men?  Who  had  fairer  or  swifter  horses  or 
greyhounds?  Who  had  more  skilful  or  wiser  bards  than 
Maelgan  ? 

When  they  had  all  made  an  end  of  their  praising  the 
king  and  his  gifts,  it  befell  that  Elphin  spoke  on  this 
wise.  "Of  a  truth,  none  but  a  king  may  vie  with  a  king; 
but  were  he  not  a  king,  I  would  say  that  my  wife  was  as 
virtuous  as  any  lady  in  the  kingdom,  and  also  that  I 


TALIESIN  629 

have  a  bard  who  is  more  skilful  than  all  the  king's 
bards."  In  a  short  space  some  of  his  fellows  told  the 
king  all  the  boastings  of  Elphin ;  and  the  king  ordered  him 
to  be  thrown  into  a  strong  prison,  until  he  might  show 
the  truth  as  to  the  virtues  of  his  wife,  and  the  wisdom 
of  his  bard. 

Now  when  Elphin  had  been  put  in  a  tower  of  the 
castle,  with  a  thick  chain  about  his  feet  (it  is  said  that 
it  was  a  silver  chain,  because  he  was  of  royal  blood), 
the  king,  as  the  story  relates,  sent  his  son  Rhun  to  in- 
quire into  the  demeanor  of  Elphin's  wife.  Now  Rhun 
was  the  most  graceless  man  in  the  world,  and  there  was 
neither  wife  nor  maiden  with  whom  he  held  converse 
but  was  evil  spoken  of.  While  Rhun  went  in  haste  to- 
wards Elphin's  dwelling,  being  fully  minded  to  bring 
disgrace  upon  his  wife,  Taliesin  told  his  mistress  how 
that  the  king  had  placed  his  master  in  durance  in  prison, 
and  how  that  Rhun  was  coming  in  haste  to  strive  to 
bring  disgrace  upon  her.  Wherefore  he  caused  his  mis- 
tress to  array  one  of  the  maids  of  her  kitchen  in  her 
apparel;  which  the  noble  lady  gladly  did,  and  she  loaded 
her  hands  with  the  best  rings  that  she  and  her  husband 
possessed. 

In  this  guise  Taliesin  caused  his  mistress  to  put  the 
maiden  to  sit  at  the  board  in  her  room  at  supper;  and 
he  made  her  to  seem  as  her  mistress,  and  the  mistress 
to  seem  as  the  maid.  And  when  they  were  in  due  time 
seated  at  their  supper,  in  the  manner  that  has  been  said. 
Rhun  suddenly  arrived  at  Elphin's  dwelling,  and  was 
received  with  joy,  for  the  servants  knew  him ;  and  they 
brought  him  to  the  room  of  their  mistress,  in  the  sem- 
blance of  whom  the  maid  rose  up  from  supper  and  wel- 
comed him  gladly.  And  afterwards  she  sat  down  to 
supper  a^ain,  and  Rhun  with  her.  Then  Rhun  began 
jesting^  with  the  maid,  who  still  kept  the  semblance  of 
her  mistress.  And  verily  this  story  shows  that  the 
maiden  became  so  intoxicated  that  she  fell  asleep;  and 
the  story  relates  that  it  was  a  powder  that  Rhun  put 
into  the  drink,  that  made  her  sleep  so  soundly  that  she 
never  felt  it  when  he  cut  off  from  her  hand  her  little 
finger,  whereon  was  the  signet  ring  of  Elphin,  which  he 


630  THE  MABINOGEON 

had  sent  to  his  wife  as  a  token  a  short  time  before. 
And  Rhun  returned  to  the  king  with  the  finger  and  the 
ring  as  a  proof,  to  show  that  he  had  cut  it  off  from  her 
hand  without  her  awaking  from  her  sleep  of  intemper- 
ance. 

The  king  rejoiced  greatly  at  these  tidings,  and  he 
sent  for  his  councillors,  to  whom  he  told  the  whole  story 
from  the  beginning.  And  he  caused  Elphin  to  be  brought 
out  of  prison,  and  he  chided  him  because  of  his  boast. 
And  he  spake  on  this  wise:  "Elphin,  be  it  known  to 
thee  beyond  a  doubt,  that  it  is  but  folly  for  a  man  to 
trust  in  the  virtues  of  his  wife  further  than  he  can  see 
her;  and  that  thou  mayest  be  certain  of  thy  wife's  vile- 
ness,  behold  her  finger,  with  thy  signet  ring  upon  it, 
which  was  cut  from  her  hand  last  night,  while  she  slept 
the  sleep  of  intoxication."  Then  thus  spake  Elphin: 
"With  thy  leave,  mighty  king,  I  cannot  deny  my  ring, 
for  it  is  known  of  many;  but  verily  T  assert  that  the 
finger  around  which  it  is  was  never  attached  to  the  hand 
of  my  wife;  for  in  truth  and  certainty  there  are  three 
notable  things  pertaining  to  it,  none  of  which  ever  be- 
longed to  any  of  my  wife's  fingers.  The  first  of  the 
three  is,  that  it  is  certainly  known  to  me  that  this  ring 
would  never  remain  upon  her  thumb,  whereas  you  can 
plainly  see  that  it  is  hard  to  draw  it  over  the  joint  of 
the  little  finger  of  the  hand  whence  this  was  cut.  The 
second  thing  is,  that  my  wife  has  never  let  pass  one 
Saturday  since  I  have  known  her,  without  paring  her 
nails  before  going  to  bed,  and  you  can  see  fully  that  the 
nail  of  this  little  finger  has  not  been  pared  for  a  month. 
The  third  is,  truly,  that  the  hand  whence  this  finger  came 
was  kneading  rye  dough  within  three  days  before  the 
finger  was  cut  therefrom,  and  I  can  assure  your  high- 
ness that  my  wife  has  never  kneaded  rye  dough  since 
my  wife  she  has  been." 

The  king  was  mightily  wroth  with  Elphin  for  so 
stoutly  withstanding  him,  respecting  the  goodness  of  his 
wife;  wherefore  he  ordered  him  to  his  prison  a  second 
time,  saying  that  he  should  not  be  loosed  thence  until 
he  had  proved  the  truth  of  his  boast,  as  well  concerning 
the  wisdom  of  his  bard  as  the  virtues  of  his  wife. 


TALIESIN  631 

In  the  meantime  his  wife  and  Taliesin  remained  joyful 
at  Elphin's  dwelling.  And  Taliesin  showed  his  mistress 
how  that  Elphin  was  in  prison  because  of  them;  but  he 
bade  her  be  glad,  for  that  he  would  go  to  Maelgan's 
court  to  free  his  master.  So  he  took  leave  of  his 
mistress,  and  came  to  the  court  of  Maelgan,  who  was 
going  to  sit  in  his  hall,  and  dine  in  his  royal  state,  as  it 
was  the  custom  in  those  days  for  kings  and  princes  to 
do  at  every  chief  feast.  As  soon  as  Taliesin  entered  the 
hall  he  placed  himself  in  a  quiet  corner,  near  the  place 
where  the  bards  and  the  minstrels  were  wont  to  come, 
in  doing  their  service  and  duty  to  the  king,  as  is  the 
custom  at  the  high  festivals,  when  the  bounty  is  pro- 
claimed. So,  when  the  bards  and  the  heralds  came  to 
cry  largess,  and  to  proclaim  the  power  of  the  king,  and 
his  strength,  at  the  moment  when  they  passed  by  the 
corner  wherein  he  was  crouching,  Taliesin  pouted  out 
his  lips  after  them,  and  played  "Blerwm,  blerwm !"  with 
his  finger  upon  his  lips.  Neither  took  they  much  notice 
of  him  as  they  went  by  but  proceeded  forward  till  they 
came  before  the  king,  unto  whom  they  made  their  obei- 
sance with  their  bodies,  as  they  were  wont,  without 
speaking  a  single  word,  but  pouting  out  their  lips,  and 
making  mouths  at  the  king,  playing,  "Blerwm,  blerwm !" 
upon  their  lips  with  their  fingers,  as  they  had  seen  the 
boy  do.  This  sight  caused  the  king  to  wonder,  and  to 
deem  within  himself  that  they  were  drunk  with  many 
liquors.  Wherefore  he  commanded  one  of  his  lords, 
who  served  at  the  board,  to  go  to  them  and  desire  them 
to  collect  their  wits,  and  to  consider  where  they  stood, 
and  what  it  was  fitting  for  them  to  do.  And  this  lord 
did  so  gladly.  But  they  ceased  not  from  their  folly  any 
more  than  before.  Whereupon  he  sent  to  them  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  a  third,  desiring  them  to  go  forth  from 
the  hall.  At  the  last  the  king  ordered  one  of  his  squires 
to  give  a  blow  to  the  chief  of  them,  named  Heinin 
Vardd;  and  the  squire  took  a  broom  and  struck  him 
on  the  head,  so  that  he  fell  back  in  his  seat.  Then  he 
arose,  and  went  on  his  knees,  and  besought  leave  of  the 
king's  grace  to  show  that  this  their  fault  was  not  through 
want  of  knowledge  neither  through  drunkenness,  but  by 


632  THE  MABTNOGEON 

the  influence  of  some  spirit  that  was  in  the  hall.  And 
he  spoke  on  this  wise :  "O  honorable  king,  he  it  known 
to  your  grace  that  not  from  the  strength  of  drink,  or  of 
too  much  liquor,  are  we  dumb,  but  through  the  influence 
of  a  spirit  that  sits  in  the  corner  yonder,  in  the  form  of 
a  child."  Forthwith  the  king  commanded  the  squire  to 
fetch  him;  and  he  went  to  the  nook  where  Taliesin  sat, 
and  brought  him  before  the  king,  who  asked  him  what 
he  was,  and  whence  he  came.  And  he  answered  the  king 
in  verse: 

"Primary  chief  bard  am  I  to  Elphin, 
And  my  native  country  is  the  region  of  the  summer  stars ; 
I  have  been  in  Asia  with  Noah  in  the  ark, 
I  have  seen  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
I  was  in  India  when  Rome  was  built, 
I  have  now  come  here  to  the  remnant  of  Troia." 

When  the  king  and  his  nobles  had  heard  the  song, 
they  wondered  much,  for  they  had  never  heard  the  like 
from  a  boy  so  young  as  he.  And  when  the  king  knew 
that  he  was  the  bard  of  Elphin  he  bade  Heinin,  his  first 
and  wisest  bard,  to  answer  Taliesin,  and  to  strive  with 
him.  But  when  he  came  he  could  do  no  other  than  play 
"Blerwm !"  on  his  lips ;  and  when  he  sent  for  the  others 
of  the  four  and  twenty  bards,  they  all  did  likewise,  and 
could  do  no  other.  And  Maelgan  asked  the  boy  Taliesin 
what  was  his  errand,  and  he  answered  him  in  song: 

"Elphin,  the  son  of  Gwyddno, 
Is  in  the  land  of  Artro, 
Secured  by  thirteen  locks, 
For  praising  his  instructor. 
Therefore  I,  Taliesin, 
Chief  of  the  bards  of  the  west, 
Will  loosen  Elphin 
Out  of  a  golden  fetter." 

Then  he  sang  to  them  a  riddle : 

"Discover  thou  what  is 
The  strong  creature  from  before  the  flood, 
Without  flesh,  without  bone, 
Without  vein,  without  blood, 
Without  head,  without  feet; 
It  will  neither  be  older  nor  younger 


TALIESIN  633 

Than  at  the  beginning. 

Behold  how  the  sea  whitens 

When  first  it  comes, 

When  it  comes  from  the  south, 

When  it  strikes  on  coasts. 

It  is  in  the  field,  it  is  in  the  wood, 

But  the  eye  cannot  perceive  it. 

One  Being  has  prepared  it, 

By  a  tremendous  blast, 

To  wreak  vengeance 

On  Maelgan  Gwynedd. 

While  he  was  thus  singing  his  verse,  there  arose  a 
mighty  storm  of  wind,  so  that  the  king  and  all  his  nobles 
thought  that  the  castle  would  fall  upon  their  heads.  And 
the  king  caused  them  to  fetch  Elphin  in  haste  from  his 
dungeon,  and  placed  him  before  Taliesin.  And  it  is  said 
that  immediately  he  sung  a  verse,  so  that  the  chains 
opened  from  about  his  feet. 

After  that  Taliesin  brought  Elphin's  wife  before  them, 
and  showed  that  she  had  not  one  finger  wanting.  And 
in  this  manner  did  he  set  his  master  free  from  prison, 
and  protect  the  innocence  of  his  mistress,  and  silence 
the  bards  so  that  not  one  of  them  dared  to  say  a  word. 
Right  glad  was  Elphin,  right  glad  was  Taliesin. 


HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH 
RACE 


BEOWULF 

NOTABLE  among  the  names  of  heroes  of  the  British 
race  is  that  of  Beowulf,  which  appeals  to  all  English- 
speaking  people  in  a  very  special  way,  since  he  is  the 
one  hero  in  whose  story  we  may  see  the  ideals  of  our 
English  forefathers  before  they  left  their  Continental 
home  to  cross  to  the  islands  of  Britain. 

Although  this  hero  had  distinguished  himself  by  nu- 
merous feats  of  strength  during  his  boyhood  and  early 
youth,  it  was  as  the  deliverer  of  Hrothgar,  king  of  Den- 
mark, from  the  monster  Grendel  that  he  first  gained 
wide  renown.  Grendel  was  half  monster  and  half  man, 
and  had  his  abode  in  the  fen-fastnesses  in  the  vicinity  of 
Hrothgar's  residence.  Night  after  night  he  would  steal 
into  the  king's  great  palace  called  Heorot  and  slay  some- 
times as  many  as  thirty  at  one  time  of  the  knights  sleep- 
ing there. 

Beowulf  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  selected  band 
of  warriors,  went  against  the  monster,  and  after  ^  ter- 
rible fight  slew  it.  The  following  night  Grendel's  mother, 
a  fiend  scarcely  less  terrible  than  her  son,  carried  off  one 
of  Hrothgar's  boldest  thanes.  Once  more  Beowulf  went 
to  the  help  of  the  Danish  king,  followed  the  she-monster 
to  her  lair  at  the  bottom  of  a  muddy  lake  in  the  midst 
of  the  swamp,  and  with  his  good  sword  Hrunting  and 
his  own  muscular  arms  broke  the  sea-woman's  neck. 

Upon  his  return  to  his  own  country  of  the  Geats, 
loaded  with  honors  bestowed  upon  him  by  Hrothgar, 
Beowulf  served  the  king  of  Geatland  as  the  latter's  most 
trusted  counsellor  and  champion.  When,  after  many 
years,  the  king  fell  before  an  enemy,  the  Geats  unani- 

635 


636    HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

mously  chose  Beowulf  for  their  new  king.  His  fame 
as  a  warrior  kept  his  country  free  from  invasion,  and 
his  wisdom  as  a  statesman  increased  its  prosperity  and 
happiness. 

In  the  fiftieth  year  of  Beowulf's  reign,  however,  a 
great  terror  fell  upon  the  land  in  the  way  of  a  mon- 
strous fire-dragon,  which  flew  forth  by  night  from  its 
den  in  the  rocks,  lighting  up  the  blackness  with  its 
blazing  breath,  and  burning  houses  and  homesteads,  men 
and  cattle,  with  the  flames  from  its  mouth.  When  the 
news  came  to  Beowulf  that  his  people  were  suffering 
and  dying,  and  that  no  warrior  dared  to  risk  his  life  in 
an  effort  to  deliver  the  country  from  this  deadly  devasta- 
tion, the  aged  king  took  up  his  shield  and  sword  and 
went  forth  to  his  last  fight.  At  the  entrance  of  the 
dragon 's  cave  Beowulf  raised  his  voice  and  shouted  a 
furious  defiance  to  the  awesome  guardian  of  the  den. 
Roaring  hideously  and  flapping  his  glowing  wings  to- 
gether, the  dragon  rushed  forth  and  half  flew,  half 
sprang,  on  Beowulf.  Then  began  a  fearful  combat, 
which  ended  in  Beowulf's  piercing  the  dragon's  scaly 
armor  and  inflicting  a  mortal  wound,  but  alas!  in  him- 
self being  given  a  gash  in  the  neck  by  his  opponent's 
poisoned  fangs  which  resulted  in  his  death.  As  he  lay 
stretched  on  the  ground,  his  head  supported  by  Wiglaf, 
an  honored  warrior  who  had  helped  in  the  fight  with 
the  dragon,  Beowulf  roused  himself  to  say,  as  he 
grasped  Wiglaf 's  hand: 

"Thou  must  now  look  to      the  needs  of  the  nation; 
Here  dwell  I  no  longer,      for  Destiny  calleth  me! 
Bid  thou  my  warriors      after  my  funeral  pyre 
Build  me  a  burial-cairn      high  on  the  sea-cliff's  head; 
So  that  the  seafarers      Beowulf's  Barrow 
Henceforth  shall  name  it,      they  who  drive  far  and  wide 
Over  the  mighty  flood      their  foamy  keels. 
Thou  art  the  last  of  all      the  kindred  of  Wagmund! 
Wyrd  has  swept  all  my  kin,      all  the  brave  chiefs  away ! 
Now  must  I  follow  them!" 

These  last  words  spoken,  the  king  of  the  Geats,  brave 
to  seek  danger  and  brave  to  look  on  death  and  Fate 
undaunted,  fell  back  dead.  According  to  his  last  de- 


CUCHULAIN,  CHAMPION  OF  IRELAND      637 

sires,  his  followers  gathered  wood  and  piled  it  on  the 
cliff-head.  Upon  this  funeral  pyre  was  laid  Beowulf's 
body  and  consumed  to  ashes.  Then,  upon  the  same  cliff 
of  Hronesness,  was  erected  a  huge  burial  cairn,  wide- 
spread and  lofty,  to  be  known  thereafter  as  Beowulf's 
Barrow. 


CUCHULAIN,  CHAMPION  OF  IRELAND 

AMONG  all  the  early  literatures  of  Europe,  there  are 
two  which,  at  exactly  opposite  corners  of  the  continent, 
display  most  strikingly  similar  characteristics.  These 
are  the  Greek  and  the  Irish,  and  the  legend  of  the  Irish 
champion  Cuchulain,  which  well  illustrates  the  similarity 
of  the  literatures,  bears  so  close  a  resemblance  to  the 
story  of  Achilles  as  to  win  for  this  hero  the  title  of  "the 
Irish  Achilles/'  Certainly  in  reckless  courage,  power 
of  inspiring  dread,  sense  of  personal  merit,  and  frank- 
ness of  speech  the  Irish  hero  is  fully  equal  to  the 
mighty  Greek. 

Cuchulain  was  the  nephew  of  King  Conor  of  Ulster, 
son  of  his  sister  Dechtire,  and  it  is  said  that  his  father 
was  no  mortal  man,  but  the  great  god  Lugh  of  the 
Long  Hand.  Cuchulain  was  brought  up  by  King  Conor 
himself,  and  even  while  he  was  still  a  boy  his  fame 
spread  all  over  Ireland.  His  warlike  deeds  were  those 
of  a  proved  warrior,  not  of  a  child  of  nursery  age; 
and  by  the  time  Cuchulain  was  seventeen  he  was  without 
peer  among  the  champions  of  Ulster. 

Upon  Cuchulain's  marriage  to  Emer,  daughter  of  For- 
gall  the  Wily,  a  Druid  of  great  power,  the  couple  took 
up  their  residence  at  Armagh,  the  capital  of  Ulster, 
under  the  protection  of  King  Conor.  Here  there  was 
one  chief,  Bricriu  of  the  Bitter  Tongue,  who,  like  Ther- 
sites  among  the  Grecian  leaders,  delighted  in  making 
mischief.  Soon  he  had  on  foot  plans  for  stirring  up 
strife  among  the  heroes  of  Ulster,  leaders  among  whom 
were  the  mighty  Laegaire,  Conall  Cearnach,  cousin  of 
Cuchulain,  and  Cuchulain  himself.  Inviting  the  members 


638    HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

of  King  Conor's  court  to  dinner,  Bricriu  arranged  that 
a  contest  should  arise  over  who  should  have  the  "cham- 
pion's portion/'  and  so  successful  was  he  that,  to  avoid 
a  bloody  fight,  the  three  heroes  mentioned  decided  to 
submit  their  claims  to  the  championship  of  Ireland  to 
King  Ail  ill  of  Connaught. 

Ailill  put  the  heroes  to  an  unexpected  test.  Their 
dinner  was  served  them  in  a  separate  room,  into  which 
three  magic  beasts,  in  the  shape  of  monstrous  cats,  were 
sent  by  the  king.  When  they  saw  them  Laegire  and 
Conall  rose  from  their  meal,  climbed  among  the  rafters, 
and  stayed  there  all  night.  Cuchukiin  waited  until  one 
cat  attacked  him,  and  then,  drawing  his  sword,  struck 
the  monster.  It  showed  no  further  sign  of  fight,  and 
at  daybreak  the  magic  beasts  disappeared. 

As  Laegire  and  Conall  claimed  that  this  test  was  an 
unfair  one,  Ailill  sent  the  three  rivals  to  Curoi  of  Kerry, 
a  just  and  wise  man,  who  set  out  to  discover  by  wiz- 
ardry and  enchantments  the  best  among  the  heroes.  In 
turn  they  stood  watch  outside  Curoi's  castle,  where 
Laegire  and  Conall  were  overcome  by  a  huge  giant,  who 
hurled  spears  of  mighty  oak  trees,  and  ended  by  throw- 
ing them  over  the  wall  into  the  courtyard.  Cuchulain 
alone  withstood  the  giant,  whereupon  he  was  attacked  by 
other  magic  foes.  Among  these  was  a  dragon,  which 
flew  on  horrible  wings  from  a  neighboring  lake,  and 
seemed  ready  to  devour  everything  in  its  way.  Cuchu- 
lain sprang  up,  giving  his  wonderful  hero-leap,  thrust 
his  arm  into  the  dragon's  mouth  and  down  its  throat, 
and  tore  out  its  heart.  After  the  monster  fell  dead,  he 
cut  off  its  scaly  head. 

As  even  yet  Cuchulain's  opponents  would  not  admit 
his  championship,  they  were  all  three  directed  to  return 
to  Armagh,  to  await  Curoi's  judgment.  Here  it  hap- 
pened that  all  the  Ulster  heroes  were  in  the  great  hall 
one  night,  except  Cuchulain  and  his  cousin  Conall.  As 
they  sat  in  order  of  rank,  a  terrible  stranger,  gigantic 
in  stature,  hideous  of  aspect,  with  ravening  yellow  eyes, 
entered.  In  his  hand  he  bore  an  enormous  axe,  with 
keen  and  shining  edge.  Upon  King  Conor's  inquiring 
his  business  there,  the  stranger  replied: 


CUCHULAIN,  CHAMPION  OF  IRELAND      639 

"Behold  my  axe !  The  man  who  will  grasp  it  to-da> 
may  cut  my  head  off  with  it,  provided  that  I  may,  in 
like  manner,  cut  off  his  head  to-morrow.  If  you  have 
no  champion  who  dare  face  me,  I  will  say  that  Ulster 
has  lost  her  courage  and  is  dishonored." 

At  once  Laegire  accepted  the  challenge.  The  giant 
laid  his  head  on  a  block,  and  at  a  blow  the  hero  severed 
it  from  the  body.  Thereupon  the  giant  arose,  took  the 
head  and  the  axe,  and  thus,  headless,  strode  from  the 
hall.  But  the  following  night,  when  he  returned,  sound 
as  ever,  to  claim  the  fulfilment  of  Laegire's  promise,  the 
latter's  heart  failed  him  and  he  did  not  come  forward. 
The  stranger  then  jeered  at  the  men  of  Ulster  because 
their  great  champion  durst  not  keep  his  agreement,  nor 
face  the  blow  he  should  receive  in  return  for  the  one  he 
gave. 

The  men  of  Ulster  were  utterly  ashamed,  but  Conall 
Cearnach,  who  was  present  that  night,  made  a  new  agree- 
ment with  the  stranger.  He  gave  a  blow  which  behead- 
ed the  giant,  but  again,  when  the  latter  returned  whole 
and  sound  on  the  following  evening,  the  champion  was 
not  to  be  found. 

Now  it  was  the  turn  of  Cuchulain,  who,  as  the 
others  had  done,  cut  off  the  giant's  head  at  one  stroke. 
The  next  day  the  members  of  Conor's  court  watched 
Cuchulain  to  see  what  he  would  do.  They  would  not 
have  been  surprised  if  he  had  failed  like  the  others, 
who  now  were  present.  The  champion,  however,  showed 
no  signs  of  failing  or  retreat.  He  sat  sorrowfully  in 
his  place,  and  with  a  sigh  said  to  King  Conor  as  they 
waited:  "Do  not  leave  this  place  till  all  is  over.  Death 
is  coming  to  me  very  surely,  but  I  must  fulfil  my 
agreement,  for  I  would  rather  die  than  break  my  word." 

Towards  the  close  of  day  the  stranger  strode  into 
the  hall  exultant. 

"Where  is  Cuchulain?"  he  cried. 

"Here  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

"Ah,  poor  boy!  your  speech  is  sad  to-night,  and  the 
fear  of  death  lies  heavy  on  you;  but  at  least  you  have 
redeemed  your  word  and  have  not  failed  me." 

The  youth  rose  from  his  seat  and  went  towards  him, 


640    HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

as  he  stood  with  the  great  axe  ready,  and  knelt  to  re- 
ceive  the  blow. 

The  hero  of  Ulster  laid  his  head  on  the  block;  but 
the  giant  was  not  satisfied.  "Stretch  out  your  neck  bet- 
ter/' said  he. 

"You  are  playing  with  me,  to  torment  me,"  said  Cu- 
chulain.  "Slay  me  now  speedily,  for  I  did  not  keep 
you  waiting  last  night." 

However,  he  stretched  out  his  neck  as  ordered,  and 
the  stranger  raised  his  axe  till  it  crashed  upwards 
through  the  rafters  of  the  hall,  like  the  crash  of  trees 
falling  in  a  storm.  When  the  axe  came  down  with  a 
terrific  sound  all  men  looked  fearfully  at  Cuchulain. 
The  descending  axe  had  not  even  touched  him;  it  had 
come  down  with  the  blunt  side  on  the  ground,  and  the 
youth  knelt  there  unharmed.  Smiling  at  him,  and  lean- 
ing on  his  axe,  stood  no  terrible  and  hideous  stranger, 
but  Curoi  of  Kerry,  come  to  give  his  decision  at  last. 

"Rise  up,  Cuchulain,"  said  Curoi.  "There  is  none 
among  all  the  heroes  of  Ulster  to  equal  you  in  courage 
and  loyalty  and  truth.  The  Championship  of  the  Heroes 
of  Ireland  is  yours  from  this  day  forth,  and  the  Cham- 
pion's Portion  at  all  feasts;  and  to  your  wife  I  adjudge 
the  first  place  among  all  the  women  of  Ulster.  Woe 
to  him  who  dares  to  dispute  this  decision!"  Thereupon 
Curoi  vanished,  and  the  warriors  gathered  around  Cu- 
chulain, and  all  with  one  voice  acclaimed  him  the 
Champion  of  the  Heroes  of  all  Ireland — a  title  which 
has  clung  to  him  until  this  day. 

This  is  one  of  many  stories  told  of  the  Irish  cham- 
pion, whose  deeds  of  bravery  would  fill  many  pages. 
Cuchulain  finally  came  to  his  end  on  the  field  of  battle, 
after  a  fight  in  which  he  displayed  all  his  usual  gal- 
lantry but  in  which  unfair  means  were  used  to  overcome 
him. 

For  Wales  and  for  England  during  centuries  Arthur 
has  been  the  representative  "very  gentle  perfect  knight." 
In  a  similar  way,  in  England's  sister  isle,  Cuchulain 
stands  ever  for  the  highest  ideals  of  the  Irish  Gaels. 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE  641 


HEREWARD  THE  WAKE 

IN  Hereward  the  Wake  (or  "Watchful")  is  found 
one  of  those  heroes  whose  date  can  be  ascertained  with 
a  fair  amount  of  exactness  and  yet  in  whose  story  occur 
mythological  elements  which  seem  to  belong  to  all  ages. 
The  folklore  of  primitive  races  is  a  great  storehouse 
whence  a  people  can  choose  tales  and  heroic  deeds  to 
glorify  its  own  national  hero,  careless  that  the  same 
tales  and  deeds  have  done  duty  for  other  peoples  and 
other  heroes.  Hence  it  happens  that  Hereward  the 
Saxon,  a  patriot  hero  as  real  and  actual  as  Nelson  or 
George  Washington,  whose  deeds  were  recorded  in  prose 
and  verse  within  forty  years  of  his  death,  was  even  then 
surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  romance  and  mystery,  which 
hid  in  vagueness  his  family,  his  marriage,  and  even  his 
death. 

Briefly  it  may  be  stated  that  Hereward  was  a  native 
of  Lincolnshire,  and  was  in  his  prime  about  1070.  In 
that  year  he  joined  a  party  of  Danes  who  appeared  in 
England,  attacked  Peterborough  and  sacked  the  abbey 
there,  and  afterward  took  refuge  in  the  Isle  of  Ely. 
Here  he  was  besieged  by  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
was  finally  forced  to  yield  to  the  Norman.  He  thus 
came  to  stand  for  the  defeated  Saxon  race,  and  his 
name  has  been  passed  down  as  that  of  the  darling  hero 
of  the  Saxons.  For  his  splendid  defence  of  Ely  they 
forgave  his  final  surrender  to  Duke  William;  they  at- 
tributed to  him  all  the  virtues  supposed  to  be  inherent 
in  the  free-born,  and  all  the  glorious  valor  on  which  the 
English  prided  themselves;  and,  lastly,  they  surrounded 
his  death  with  a  halo  of  desperate  fighting,  and  made 
his  last  conflict  as  wonderful  as  that  of  Roland  at  Ron- 
cesvalles.  If  Roland  is  the  ideal  of  Norman  feudal 
chivalry,  Hereward  is  equally  the  ideal  of  Anglo-Saxon 
sturdy  manliness  and  knighthood. 

An  account  of  one  of  Hereward's  adventures  as  a 
youth  will  serve  as  illustration  of  the  stories  told  of  his 
prowess.  On  an  enforced  visit  to  Cornwall,  he  found 


642    HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

that  King  Alef,  a  petty  British  chief,  had  betrothed  his 
fair  daughter  to  a  terrible  Pictish  giant,  breaking  off, 
in  order  to  do  it,  her  troth-plight  with  Prince  Sigtryg 
of  Waterford,  son  of  a  Danish  king  in  Ireland.  Here- 
ward,  ever  chivalrous,  picked  a  quarrel  with  the  giant 
and  killed  him  in  fair  fight,  whereupon  the  king  threw 
him  into  prison.  In  the  following  night,  however,  the 
released  princess  arranged  that  the  gallant  Saxon  should 
be  freed  and  sent  hot-foot  for  her  lover,  Prince  Sigtryg. 
After  many  adventures  Here  ward  reached  the  prince, 
who  hastened  to  return  to  Cornwall  with  the  young  hero. 
But  to  the  grief  of  both,  they  learned  upon  their  arrival 
that  the  princess  had  just  been  betrothed  to  a  wild 
Cornish  hero,  Haco,  and  the  wedding  feast  was  to  be 
held  that  very  day.  Sigtryg  at  once  sent  a  troop  of 
forty  Danes  to  King  Alef  demanding  the  fulfilment  of 
the  troth-plight  between  himself  and  his  daughter,  and 
threatening  vengeance  if  it  were  broken.  To  this  threat 
the  king  returned  no  answer,  and  no  Dane  came  back 
to  tell  of  their  reception. 

Sigtryg  would  have  waited  till  morning,  trusting  in 
the  honor  of  the  king,  but  Hereward  disguised  himself 
as  a  minstrel  and  obtained  admission  to  the  bridal  feast, 
where  he  soon  won  applause  by  his  beautiful  singing. 
The  bridegroom,  Haco,  in  a  rapture  offered  him  any 
boon  he  liked  to  ask,  but  he  demanded  only  a  cup  of 
wine  from  the  hands  of  the  bride.  When  she  brought 
it  to  him  he  flung  into  the  empty  cup  the  betrothal  ring, 
the  token  she  had  sent  to  Sigtryg,  and  said:  "I  thank 
thee,  lady,  and  would  reward  thee  for  thy  gentleness  to 
a  wandering  minstrel;  I  give  back  the  cup,  richer  than 
before  by  the  kind  thoughts  of  which  it  bears  the  token." 
The  princess  looked  at  him,  gazed  into  the  goblet,  and 
saw  her  ring;  then,  looking  again,  she  recognized  her 
deliverer  and  knew  that  rescue  was  at  hand. 

While  men  feasted  Hereward  listened  and  talked, 
and  found  out  that  the  forty  Danes  were  prisoners,  to 
be  released  on  the  morrow  when  Haco  was  sure  of  his 
bride,  but  released  useless  and  miserable,  since  they 
would  be  turned  adrift  blinded.  Haco  was  taking  his 
lovely  bride  back  to  his  own  land,  and  Hereward  saw 


ROBIN  HOOD  643 

that  any  rescue,  to  be  successful,  must  be  attempted  on 
the  march. 

Returning  to  Sigtryg,  the  young  Saxon  told  all  that 
he  had  learned,  and  the  Danes  planned  an  ambush  in  the 
ravine  where  Haco  had  decided  to  blind  and  set  free  his 
captives.  The  whole  was  carried  out  exactly  as  Here- 
ward  arranged  it.  The  Cornishmen,  with  the  Danish 
captives,  passed  first  without  attack ;  next  came  Haco, 
riding  grim  and  ferocious  beside  his  silent  bride,  he 
exulting  in  his  success,  she  looking  eagerly  for  any  signs 
of  rescue.  As  they  passed  Hereward  sprang  from  his 
shelter,  crying,  "Upon  them,  Danes,  and  set  your  breth- 
ren free!"  and  himself  struck  down  Haco  and  smote  off 
his  head.  There  was  a  short  struggle,  but  soon  the 
rescued  Danes  were  able  to  aid  their  deliverers,  and  the 
Cornish  guards  were  all  slain ;  the  men  of  King  Alef, 
never  very  zealous  for  the  cause  of  Haco,  fled,  and  the 
Danes  were  left  masters  of  the  field. 

Sigtryg  had  in  the  meantime  seen  to  the  safety  of  the 
princess,  and  now,  placing  her  between  himself  and 
Hereward,  he  escorted  her  to  the  ship,  which  soon 
brought  them  to  Waterford  and  a  happy  bridal.  The 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Waterford  always  recognized  in 
Ilereward  their  deliverer  and  best  friend,  and  in  their 
gratitude  wished  him  to  dwell  with  them  always ;  but 
the  hero's  roving  and  daring  temper  forbade  his  settling 
down,  but  rather  urged  him  on  to  deeds  of  arms  in  ottar 
lands,  where  he  quickly  won  a  renown  second  to  none. 


ROBIN  HOOD 

AMONG  the  earliest  heirlooms  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
tongue  are  the  songs  and  legends  of  Robin  Hood  and 
his  merry  outlaws,  which  have  charmed  readers  young 
and  old  for  more  than  six  hundred  years.  These  en- 
tertaining stories  date  back  to  the  time  when  Chaucer 
wrote  his  "Canterbury  Tales,"  when  the  minstrel  and 
scribe  stood  in  the  place  of  the  more  prim  and  precise 
modern  printed  book. 


644    HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

The  question  of  whether  or  not  Robin  Hood  waj»  a 
real  person  has  been  asked  for  many  years,  just 
as  a  similar  question  has  been  asked  about  William  Tell 
and  others  whom  everyone  would  much  rather  accept  on 
faith.  It  cannot  be  answered  by  a  brief  "yes"  or  "no," 
even  though  learned  men  have  pored  over  ancient  rec- 
ords and  have  written  books  on  the  subject.  According 
to  the  general  belief  Robin  was  an  outlaw  in  the  reign 
of  Richard  I,  when  in  the  depths  of  Sherwood  Forest 
he  entertained  one  hundred  tall  men,  all  good  archers, 
with  the  spoil  he  took;  but  "he  suffered  no  woman  to 
be  oppressed  or  otherwise  molested;  poore  men's  goods 
he  spared,  abundantlie  relieving  them  with  that  which  by 
theft  he  got  from  abbeys  and  houses  of  rich  carles." 
Consequently  Robin  was  an  immense  favorite  with  the 
common  people. 

This  popularity  extended  from  the  leader  to  all  the 
members  of  his  hardy  band.  "God  save  Robin  Hood 
and  all  his  good  yeomanry"  is  the  ending  of  many  old 
ballads.  The  clever  archer  who  could  outshoot  his  fel- 
lows, the  brave  yeoman  inured  to  blows,  and  the  man 
who  could  be  true  to  his  friends  through  thick  and 
thin  were  favorites  for  all  time;  and  they  have  been 
idealized  in  the  persons  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry 
outlaws. 

One  of  the  best-known  stories  of  this  picturesque  fig- 
ure of  early  English  times  is  that  given  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott  in  "Ivanhoe,"  concerning  the  archery  contest  dur- 
ing the  rule  or  misrule  of  Prince  John,  in  the  absence 
of  Richard  from  the  kingdom.  Robin  Hood,  under  the 
assumed  name  of  Locksley,  boldly  presents  himself  at 
a  royal  tournament  at  Ashby,  as  competitor  for  the 
prize  in  shooting  with  the  long-bow.  From  the  eight 
or  ten  archers  who  enter  the  contest,  the  number  finally 
narrows  down  to  two, — Hubert,  a  forester  in  the  service 
of  one  of  the  king's  nobles,  and  Locksley  or  Robin  Hood. 
Hubert  takes  the  first  shot  in  the  final  trial  of  skill,  and 
lands  his  arrow  within  the  inner  ring  of  the  target, 
but  not  exactly  in  the  centre. 

"  'You  have  not  allowed  for  the  wind,  Hubert/  said 
Locksley,  'or  that  had  been  a  better  shot.' 


ROBIN  HOOD  645 

"So  saying,  and  without  showing  the  least  anxiety  to 
pause  upon  his  aim,  Locksley  stepped  to  the  appointed 
station,  and  shot  his  arrow  as  carelessly  in  appearance 
as  if  he  had  not  even  looked  at  the  mark.  He  was 
speaking  almost  at  the  instant  that  the  shaft  left  the 
bow-string,  yet  it  alighted  in  the  target  two  inches  nearer 
to  the  white  spot  which  marked  the  centre  than  that  of 
Hubert. 

"  'By  the  light  of  Heaven !'  said  Prince  John  to  Hu- 
bert, 'an  thou  suffer  that  runagate  knave  to  overcome 
thee,  thou  art  worthy  of  the  gallows !' 

"Hubert  had  but  one  set  speech  for  all  occasions.  'An 
your  highness  were  to  hang  me/  he  said,  'a  man  can 
but  do  his  best.  Nevertheless,  my  grandsire  drew  a 
good  bow ' 

"  'The  foul  fiend  on  thy  grandsire  and  all  his  gen- 
eration !'  interrupted  John ;  'shoot,  knave,  and  shoot  thy 
best,  or  it  shall  be  worse  for  thee  !J 

"Thus  exhorted,  Hubert  resumed  his  place,  and  not 
neglecting  the  caution  which  he  had  received  from  his 
adversary,  he  made  the  necessary  allowance  for  a  very 
light  air  of  wind,  which  had  just  risen,  and  shot  so 
successfully  that  his  arrow  alighted  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  target. 

"  'A  Hubert !  a  Hubert !'  shouted  the  populace,  more 
interested  in  a  known  person  than  in  a  stranger.  'In 
the  clout! — in  the  clout! — a  Hubert  forever!' 

"  'Thou  canst  not  mend  that  shot,  Locksley/  said  the 
Prince,  with  an  insulting  smile. 

"  'I  will  notch  his  shaft  for  him,  however/  replied 
Locksley. 

"And  letting  fly  his  arrow  with  a  little  more  precau- 
tion than  before,  it  lighted  right  upon  that  of  his  com- 
petitor, which  it  split  to  shivers.  The  people  who  stood 
around  were  so  astonished  at  his  wonderful  dexterity, 
that  they  could  not  even  give  vent  to  their  surprise  in 
their  usual  clamor.  'This  must  be  the  devil,  and  no 
man  of  flesh  and  blood/  whispered  the  yeomen  to  each 
other;  'such  archery  was  never  seen  since  a  bow  was 
first  bent  in  Britain/ 

"  'And  now/  said  Locksley,  'I  will  crave  your  Grace's 


646     HERO  MYTHS  OF  THE  BRITISH  RACE 

permission  to  plant  such  a  mark  as  is  used  in  the  North 
Country;  and  welcome  every  brave  yeoman  who  shall 
try  a  shot  at  it  to  win  a  smile  from  the  bonny  lass  he 
loves  best' " 

Locksley  thereupon  sets  up  a  willow  wand,  six  feet 
long  and  as  thick  as  a  man's  thumb.  Hubert  is  forced 
to  decline  the  honor  of  taking  part  in  such  a  trial  of 
archery  skill,  but  his  rival  easily  splits  the  wand  at  a 
distance  of  three  hundred  feet  and  carries  off  the  prize. 

"Even  Prince  John,  in  admiration  of  Locksley's  skill, 
lost  for  an  instant  his  dislike  to  his  person.  These 
twenty  nobles/  he  said,  'which,  with  the  bugle,  thou  hast 
fairly  won,  are  thine  own ;  we  will  make  them  fifty,  if 
thou  wilt  take  livery  and  service  with  us  as  a  yeoman  of 
our  bodyguard,  and  be  near  to  our  person.  For  never 
did  so  strong  a  hand  bend  a  bow,  or  so  true  an  eye 
direct  a  shaft/"1 

Locksley,  however,  declares  that  it  is  impossible  for 
him  to  enter  the  Prince's  service,  generously  shares 
his  prize  with  the  worthy  Hubert,  and  retires  once  more 
to  his  beloved  haunts  among  the  lights  and  shadows  of 
the  good  greenwood. 

Hvanhoe,  Vol.  1,  chap.  XIII. 


LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


INTRODUCTION 

THOSE  who  have  investigated  the  origin  of  the  roman- 
tic fables  relating  to  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  are  of 
opinion  that  the  deeds  of  Charles  Martel,  and  perhaps 
of  other  Charleses,  have  been  blended  in  popular  tra- 
dition with  those  properly  belonging  to  Charlemagne.  It 
was  indeed  a  most  momentous  era ;  and  if  our  readers 
will  have  patience,  before  entering  on  the  perusal  of 
the  fabulous  annals  which  we  are  about  to  lay  before 
them,  to  take  a  rapid  survey  of  the  real  history  of  the 
times,  they  will  find  it  hardly  less  romantic  than  the 
tales  of  the  poets. 

In  the  century  beginning  from  the  year  600,  the  coun- 
tries bordering  upon  the  native  land  of  our  Saviour, 
to  the  east  and  south,  had  not  yet  received  his  religion. 
Arabia  was  the  seat  of  an  idolatrous  religion  resembling 
that  of  the  ancient  Persians,  who  worshipped  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars.  In  Mecca,  in  the  year  571,  Mahomet 
was  born,  and  here,  at  the  age  of  forty,  he  proclaimed 
himself  the  prophet  of  God,  in  dignity  as  superior  to 
Christ  as  Christ  had  been  to  Moses.  Having  obtained 
by  slow  degrees  a  considerable  number  of  disciples,  he 
resorted  to  arms  to  diffuse  his  religion.  The  energy  and 
zeal  of  his  followers,  aided  by  the  weakness  of  the 
neighboring  nations,  enabled  him  and  his  successors  to 
spread  the  sway  of  Arabia  and  the  religion  of  Mahomet 
over  the  countries  to  the  east  as  far  as  the  Indus,  north- 
ward over  Persia  and  Asia  Minor,  westward  over  Egypt 
and  the  southern  shores  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
thence  over  the  principal  portion  of  Spain.  All  this 
was  done  within  one  hundred  years  from  the  Hegira,  or 

647 


048  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

flight  of  Mahomet  from  Mecca  to  Medina,  which  hap 
pened  in  the  year  622,  and  is  the  era  from  which  Ma- 
hometans reckon  time,  as  we  do  from  the  birth  of  Christ. 

From  Spain  the  way  was  open  for  the  Saracens  (so 
the  followers  of  Mahomet  were  called)  into  France,  the 
conquest  of  which,  if  achieved,  would  have  been  fol- 
lowed very  probably  by  that  of  all  the  rest  of  Europe, 
and  would  have  resulted  in  the  banishment  of  Chris- 
tianity from  the  earth.  For  Christianity  was  not  at  that 
day  universally  professed,  even  by  those  nations  which 
we  now  regard  as  foremost  in  civilization.  Great  part 
of  Germany,  Britain,  Denmark,  and  Russia  were  still 
pagan  or  barbarous. 

At  that  time  there  ruled  in  France,  though  without 
the  title  of  king,  the  first  of  those  illustrious  Charleses 
of  whom  we  have  spoken,  Charles  Martel,  the  grand- 
father of  Charlemagne.  The  Saracens  of  Spain  had 
made  incursions  into  France  in  712  and  718,  and  had 
retired,  carrying  with  them  a  vast  booty.  In  725,  An- 
bessa,  who  was  then  the  Saracen  governor  of  Spain, 
crossed  the  Pyrenees  with  a  numerous  army,  and  took 
by  storm  the  strong  town  of  Carcassone.  So  great  was 
the  terror  excited  by  this  invasion,  that  the  country  for 
a  wide  extent  submitted  to  the  conqueror,  and  a  Ma- 
hometan governor  for  the  province  was  appointed  and 
installed  at  Narbonne.  Anbessa,  however,  received  a 
fatal  wound  in  one  of  his  engagements,  and  the  Sara- 
cens, being  thus  checked  from  further  advance,  retired 
to  Narbonne. 

In  732  the  Saracens  again  invaded  France  under  Ab- 
dalrahman,  advanced  rapidly  to  the  banks  of  the  Ga- 
ronne, and  laid  siege  to  Bordeaux.  The  city  was  taken 
by  assault  and  delivered  up  to  the  soldiery.  The  in- 
vaders still  pressed  forward,  and  spread  over  the  terri- 
tories of  Orleans,  Auxern  and  Sens.  Their  advanced 
parties  were  suddenly  called  in  by  their  chief,  who  had 
received  information  of  the  rich  abbey  of  St.  Martin 
of  Tours,  and  resolved  to  plunder  and  destroy  it. 

Charles  during  all  this  time  had  done  nothing  to  op- 
pose the  Saracens,  for  the  reason  that  the  portion  of 
France  over  which  their  incursions  had  been  made  was 


INTRODUCTION  649 

not  at  that  time  under  his  dominion,  but  constituted  an 
independent  kingdom,  under  the  name  of  Aquitaine,  of 
which  Eude  was  king.  But  now  Charles  became  con- 
vinced of  the  danger,  and  prepared  to  encounter  it.  Ab- 
dalrahman  was  advancing  toward  Tours,  when  intelli- 
gence of  the  approach  of  Charles,  at  the  head  of  an 
army  of  Franks,  compelled  him  to  fall  back  upon  Poitiers, 
in  order  to  seize  an  advantageous  field  of  battle. 

Charles  Martel  had  called  together  his  warriors  from 
every  part  of  his  dominions,  and,  at  the  head  of  such 
an  army  as  had  hardly  ever  been  seen  in  France,  crossed 
the  Loire,  probably  at  Orleans,  and,  being  joined  by 
the  remains  of  the  army  of  Aquitaine,  came  in  sight 
of  the  Arabs  in  the  month  of  October,  732.  The  Sara- 
cens seem  to  have  been  aware  of  the  terrible  enemy 
they  were  now  to  encounter,  and  for  the  first  time  these 
formidable  conquerors  hesitated.  The  two  armies  re- 
mained in  presence  during  seven  days  before  either  ven- 
tured to  begin  the  attack;  but  at  length  the  signal  for 
battle  was  given  by  Abdalrahman,  and  the  immense  mass 
of  the  Saracen  army  rushed  with  fury  on  the  Franks. 
But  the  heavy  line  of  the  Northern  warriors  remained 
like  a  rock,  and  the  Saracens,  during  nearly  the  whole 
day,  expended  their  strength  in  vain  attempts  to  make 
any  impression  upon  them.  At  length,  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  when  Abdalrahman  was  preparing  for 
a  new  and  desperate  attempt  to  break  the  line  of  the 
Franks,  a  terrible  clamor  was  heard  in  the  rear  of  the 
Saracens.  It  was  King  Eude,  who,  with  his  Aquitanians, 
had  attacked  their  camp,  and  a  great  part  of  the  Sara- 
cen army  rushed  tumultuously  from  the  field  to  protect 
their  plunder.  In  this  moment  of  confusion  the  line 
of  the  Franks  advanced,  and,  sweeping  the  field  before 
it,  carried  fearful  slaughter  amongst  the  enemy.  Abdal- 
rahman made  desperate  efforts  to  rally  his  troops,  but 
when  he  himself,  with  the  bravest  of  his  officers,  fell 
beneath  the  swords  of  the  Christians,  all  order  disap- 
peared, and  the  remains  of  his  army  sought  refuge  in 
their  immense  camp,  from  which  Eude  and  his  Aquita- 
nians had  been  repulsed.  It  was  now  late,  and  Charles, 
unwilling  to  risk  an  attack  on  the  camp  in  the  dark, 


650  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

withdrew  his  army,  and  passed  the  night  in  the  plain, 
expecting  to  renew  the  battle  in  the  morning. 

Accordingly,  when  daylight  came,  the  Franks  drew 
up  in  order  of  battle,  but  no  enemy  appeared ;  and  when 
at  last  they  ventured  to  approach  the  Saracen  camp 
they  found  it  empty.  The  invaders  had  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  night  to  begin  their  retreat,  and  were  already 
on  their  way  back  to  Spain,  leaving  their  immense  plun- 
der behind  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Franks. 

This  was  the  celebrated  battle  of  Tours,  in  which  vast 
numbers  of  the  Saracens  were  slain,  and  only  fifteen 
hundred  of  the  Franks.  Charles  received  the  surname 
of  Martel  (the  Hammer)  in  consequence  of  this  victory. 

The  Saracens,  notwithstanding  this  severe  blow,  con- 
tinued to  hold  their  ground  in  the  south  of  France;  but 
Pepin,  the  son  of  Charles  Martel,  who  succeeded  tc 
his  father's  power,  and  assumed  the  title  of  king,  suc- 
cessively took  from  them  the  strong  places  they  held; 
and  in  759,  by  the  capture  of  Narbonne,  their  capital, 
extinguished  the  remains  of  their  power  in  France. 

Charlemagne,  or  Charles  the  Great,  succeeded  his 
father,  Pepin,  on  the  throne  in  the  year  768.  This 
prince,  though  the  hero  of  numerous  romantic  legends, 
appears  greater  in  history  than  in  fiction.  Whether  we 
regard  him  as  a  warrior  or  as  a  legislator,  as  a  patron 
of  learning  or  as  the  civilizer  of  a  barbarous  nation,  he 
is  entitled  to  our  warmest  admiration.  Such  he  is  in 
history;  but  the  romancers  represent  him  as  often  weak 
and  passionate,  the  victim  of  treacherous  counsellors, 
and  at  the  mercy  of  turbulent  barons,  on  whose  prowess 
he  depends  for  the  maintenance  of  his  throne.  The  his- 
torical representation  is  doubtless  the  true  one,  for  it  is 
handed  down  in  trustworthy  records,  and  is  confirmed 
by  the  events  of  the  age.  At  the  height  of  his  power, 
the  French  empire  extended  over  what  we  now  call 
France,  Germany,  Switzerland,  Holland,  Belgium,  and 
great  part  of  Italy. 

In  the  year  800  Charlemagne,  being  in  Rome,  whither 
he  had  gone  with  a  numerous  army  to  protect  the 
Pope,  was  crowned  by  the  Pontiff  Emperor  of  the  West. 
On  Christmas  day  Charles  entered  the  Church  of  St 


INTRODUCTION  651 

Peter,  as  if  merely  to  take  his  part  in  the  celebration 
of  the  mass  with  the  rest  of  the  congregation.  When 
he  approached  the  altar  and  stooped  in  the  act  of  prayer 
the  Pope  stepped  forward  and  placed  a  crown  of  gold 
upon  his  head ;  and  immediately  the  Roman  people  shout- 
ed, "Life  and  victory  to  Charles  the  August,  crowned 
by  God  the  great  and  pacific  Emperor  of  the  Romans." 
The  Pope  then  prostrated  himself  before  him,  and  paid 
him  reverence,  according  to  the  custom  established  in 
the  times  of  the  ancient  Emperors,  and  concluded  the 
ceremony  by  anointing  him  with  consecrated  oil. 

Charlemagne's  wars  were  chiefly  against  the  pagan 
and  barbarous  people,  who,  under  the  name  of  Saxons, 
inhabited  the  countries  now  called  Hanover  and  Hol- 
land. He  also  led  expeditions  against  the  Saracens  of 
Spain ;  but  his  wars  with  the  Saracens  were  not  car- 
ried on,  as  the  romances  assert,  in  France,  but  on  the 
soil  of  Spain.  He  entered  Spain  by  the  Eastern  Pyre- 
nees, and  made  an  easy  conquest  of  Barcelona  and 
Pampeluna.  But  Saragossa  refused  to  open  her  gates  to 
him,  and  Charles  ended  by  negotiating  and  accepting  a 
vast  sum  of  gold  as  the  price  of  his  return  over  the 
Pyrenees. 

On  his  way  back,  he  marched  with  his  whole  army 
through  the  gorges  of  the  mountains  by  way  of  the 
valleys  of  Engui,  Eno,  and  Roncesvalles.  The  chief  of 
this  region  had  waited  upon  Charlemagne,  on  his  ad- 
vance, as  a  faithful  vassal  of  the  monarchy;  but  now, 
on  the  return  of  the  Franks,  he  had  called  together  all 
the  wild  mountaineers  who  acknowledged  him  as  their 
chief,  and  they  occupied  the  heights  of  the  mountains 
under  which  the  army  had  to  pass.  The  main  body 
of  the  troops  met  with  no  obstruction,  and  received  no 
intimation  of  danger;  but  the  rear-guard,  which  was 
considerably  behind,  and  encumbered  with  its  plunder, 
was  overwhelmed  by  the  mountaineers  in  the  pass 
of  Roncesvalles,  and  slain  to  a  man.  Some  of  the  brav- 
est of  the  Frankish  chiefs  perished  on  this  occasion, 
among  whom  is  mentioned  Roland  or  Orlando,  gov- 
ernor of  the  marches  or  frontier  of  Brittany.  His  name 
became  famous  in  after  times,  and  the  disaster  of 


652  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Roncesvalles  and  death  of  Roland  became  eventually  the 
most  celebrated  episode  in  the  vast  cycle  of  romance. 

Though  after  this  there  were  hostile  encounters  be- 
tween the  armies  of  Charlemagne  and  the  Saracens,  they 
were  of  small  account,  and  generally  on  the  soil  of 
Spain.  Thus  the  historical  foundation  for  the  stories 
of  the  romancers  is  but  scanty,  unless  we  suppose  the 
events  of  an  earlier  and  of  a  later  age  to  be  incorporated 
with  those  of  Charlemagne's  own  time. 

There  is,  however,  a  pretended  history,  which  for  a 
long  time  was  admitted  as  authentic,  and  attributed  to 
Turpin,  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  a  real  personage  of  the 
time  of  Charlemagne.  Its  title  is  "History  of  Charles 
the  Great  and  Orlando."  It  is  now  unhesitatingly  con- 
sidered as  a  collection  of  popular  traditions,  produced 
by  some  credulous  and  unscrupulous  monk,  who  thought 
to  give  dignity  to  his  romance  by  ascribing  its  author- 
ship to  a  well-known  and  eminent  individual.  It  in- 
troduces its  pretended  author,  Bishop  Turpin,  in  this 
manner : 

"Turpin,  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  the  friend  and  sec- 
retary of  Charles  the  Great,  excellently  skilled  in  sacred 
and  profane  literature,  of  a  genius  equally  adapted  to 
prose  and  verse,  the  advocate  of  the  poor,  beloved  of 
God  in  his  life  and  conversation,  who  often  fought  the 
Saracens,  hand  to  hand,  by  the  Emperor's  side,  he  re- 
lates the  acts  of  Charles  the  Great  in  one  book,  and 
flourished  under  Charles  and  his  son  Louis,  to  the  year 
of  our  Lord  eight  hundred  and  thirty." 

The  titles  of  some  of  Archbishop  Turpin's  chapters 
will  show  the  nature  of  his  history.  They  are  these: 
"Of  the  Walls  of  Pampeluna,  that  fell  of  themselves." 
"Of  the  War  of  the  holy  Facundus,  where  the  Spears 
grew."  (Certain  of  the  Christians  fixed  their  spears  in 
the  evening,  erect  in  the  ground,  before  the  castle;  and 
found  them,  in  the  morning,  covered  with  bark  and 
branches.)  "How  the  Sun  stood  still  for  Three  Days, 
and  of  the  Slaughter  of  Four  Thousand  Saracens." 

Turpin's  history  has  perhaps  been  the  source  of  the 
marvellous  adventures  which  succeeding  poets  and  ro- 
mancers have  accumulated  around  the  names  of  Charle- 


INTRODUCTION  653 

magne  and  his  Paladins,  or  Peers.  But  Ariosto  and 
the  othexr  Italian  poets  have  drawn  from  different 
sources,  and  doubtless  often  from  their  own  invention, 
numberless  other  stories  which  they  attribute  to  the 
same  heroes,  not  hesitating  to  quote  as  their  authority 
"the  good  Turpin,"  though  his  history  contains  no  trace 
of  them ;  and  the  more  outrageous  the  improbability,  or 
rather  the  impossibility,  of  their  narrations,  the  more 
attentive  are  they  to  cite  "the  Archbishop,"  generally 
adding  their  testimonial  to  his  unquestionable  veracity. 

The  principal  Italian  poets  who  have  sung  the  ad- 
ventures of  the  peers  of  Charlemagne  are  Pulci,  Boiardo. 
and  Ariosto.  The  characters  of  Orlando,  Rinaldo,  As- 
tolpho,  Gano,  and  others,  are  the  same  in  all,  though 
the  adventures  attributed  to  them  are  different.  Boiardo 
tells  us  of  the  loves  of  Orlando,  Ariosto  of  his  disap- 
pointment and  consequent  madness,  Pulci  of  his  death. 

Ogier,  the  Dane,  is  a  real  personage.  History  agrees 
with  romance  in  representing  him  as  a  powerful  lord 
u-ho,  originally  from  Denmark  and  a  Pagan,  embraced 
Christianity,  and  took  service  under  Charlemagne.  He 
revolted  from  the  Emperor,  and  was  driven  into  exile. 
He  afterwards  led  one  of  those  bands  of  piratical  North- 
men which  ravaged  France  under  the  reigns  of  Charle- 
magne's degenerate  successors.  The  description  which 
an  ancient  chronicler  gives  of  Charlemagne,  as  described 
by  Ogier,  is  so  picturesque,  that  we  are  tempted  to  tran- 
scribe it.  Charlemagne  was  advancing  to  the  siege  of 
Pavia.  Didier,  King  of  the  Lombards,  was  in  the  city 
with  Ogier,  to  whom  he  had  given  refuge.  When  they 
learned  that  the  king  was  approaching  they  mounted 
a  high  tower,  whence  they  could  see  far  and  wide  over 
the  country.  "They  first  saw  advancing  the  engines  of 
war,  fit  for  the  armies  of  Darius  or  Julius  Caesar. 
There  is  Charlemagne/  said  Didier.  'No/  said  Ogier. 
The  Lombard  next  saw  a  vast  body  of  soldiers,  who 
filled  all  the  plain.  'Certainly  Charles  advanced  with 
that  host/  said  the  king.  'Not  yet/  replied  Ogier. 
'What  hope  for  us/  resumed  the  king,  'if  he  brings  with 
him  a  greater  host  than  that?'  At  last  Charles  appeared, 
his  head  covered  with  an  iron  helmet,  his  hands  with 


654  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

iron  gloves,  his  breast  and  shoulders  with  a  cuirass  of 
iron,  his  left  hand  holding  an  iron  lance,  while  his  right 
hand  grasped  his  sword.  Those  who  went  before  the 
monarch,  those  who  marched  at  his  side,  and  those  who 
followed  him,  all  had  similar  arms.  Iron  covered  the 
fields  and  the  roads;  iron  points  reflected  the  rays  of 
the  sun.  This  iron,  so  hard,  was  borne  by  a  people 
whose  hearts  were  harder  still.  The  blaze  of  the  weap- 
ons flashed  terror  into  the  streets  of  the  city." 

This  picture  of  Charlemagne  in  his  military  aspect 
would  be  incomplete  without  a  corresponding  one  of 
his  "mood  of  peace."  One  of  the  greatest  of  modern 
historians,  M.  Guizot,  has  compared  the  glory  of  Charle- 
magne to  a  brilliant  meteor,  rising  suddenly  out  of 
the  darkness  of  barbarism  to  disappear  no  less  sud- 
denly in  the  darkness  of  feudalism.  But  the  light  of  this 
meteor  was  not  extinguished,  and  reviving  civilization 
owed  much  that  was  permanently  beneficial  to  the  great 
Emperor  of  the  Franks.  His  ruling  hand  is  seen  in 
the  legislation  of  his  time,  as  well  as  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  laws.  He  encouraged  learning;  he  up- 
held  the  clergy,  who  were  the  only  peaceful  and  intellec- 
tual class,  against  the  encroaching  and  turbulent  barons ; 
he  was  an  affectionate  father,  and  watched  carefully 
over  the  education  of  his  children,  both  sons  and  daugh- 
ters. Of  his  encouragement  of  learning  we  will  give 
some  particulars. 

He  caused  learned  men  to  be  brought  from  Italy  and 
from  other  foreign  countries  to  revive  the  public  schools 
of  France,  which  had  been  prostrated  by  the  disorders 
of  preceding  times.  He  recompensed  these  learned  men 
liberally,  and  kept  some  of  them  near  himself,  honoring 
them  with  his  friendship.  Of  these  the  most  celebrated 
is  Alcuin,  an  Englishman,  whose  writings  still  remain, 
and  prove  him  to  have  been  both  a  learned  and  a  wise 
man.  With  the  assistance  of  Alcuin,  and  others  like 
him,  he  founded  an  academy  or  royal  school,  which 
should  have  the  direction  of  the  studies  of  all  the  schools 
of  the  kingdom.  Charlemagne  himself  was  a  member  of 
this  academy  on  equal  terms  with  the  rest.  He  attended 
its  meetings,  and  fulfilled  all  the  duties  of  an  academi- 


INTRODUCTION  655 

cian.  Each  member  took  the  name  of  some  famous  man 
of  antiquity.  Alcuin  called  himself  Horace,  another 
took  the  name  of  Augustin,  a  third  of  Pindar.  Charle- 
magne, who  knew  the  Psalms  by  heart,  and  who  had 
an  ambition  to  be,  according  to  his  conception,  a  king 
after  God's  oivn  heart,  received  from  his  brother  acade- 
micians the  name  of  David. 

Of  the  respect  entertained  for  him  by  foreign  na- 
tions an  interesting  proof  is  afforded  in  the  embassy 
sent  to  him  by  the  Caliph  of  the  Arabians,  the  cele- 
brated Haroun  al  Raschid,  a  prince  in  character  and 
conduct  not  unlike  to  Charlemagne.  The  ambassadors 
brought  with  them,  besides  other  rich  presents,  a  clock, 
the  first  that  was  seen  in  Europe,  which  excited  univer- 
sal admiration.  It  had  the  form  of  a  twelve-sided  edifice 
with  twelve  doors.  These  doors  formed  niches,  in  each 
of  which  was  a  little  statue  representing  one  of  the 
hours.  At  the  striking  of  the  hour  the  doors,  one  for 
each  stroke,  was  seen  to  open,  and  from  the  doors  to 
issue  as  many  of  the  little  statues,  which,  following  one 
another,  marched  gravely  round  the  tower.  The  mo- 
tion of  the  clock  was  caused  by  water,  and  the  striking 
was  effected  by  balls  of  brass  equal  to  the  number  of 
the  hours,  which  fell  upon  a  cymbal  of  the  same  metal, 
the  number  falling  being  determined  by  the  discharge 
of  the  water,  which,  as  it  sunk  in  the  vessel,  allowed 
their  escape. 

Charlemagne  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Louis,  a  well- 
intentioned  but  feeble  prince,  in  whose  reign  the  fabric 
reared  by  Charles  began  rapidly  to  crumble.  Louis  was 
followed  successively  by  two  Charleses,  incapable 
princes,  whose  weak  and  often  tyrannical  conduct  is 
no  doubt  the  source  of  incidents  of  that  character 
ascribed  in  the  romances  to  Charlemagne. 

The  lawless  and  disobedient  deportment  of  Charles's 
paladins,  instances  of  which  are  so  frequent  in  the  ro- 
mantic legends,  was  also  a  trait  of  the  declining  em- 
pire, but  not  of  that  of  Charlemagne. 


656     LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


THE  PEERS,  OR  PALADINS 

THE  twelve  most  illustrious  knights  of  Charlemagne 
were  called  Peers,  for  the  equality  that  reigned  among 
them;  while  the  name  of  Paladins,  also  conferred  on 
them,  implies  that  they  were  inmates  of  the  palace  and 
companions  of  the  king.  Their  names  are  always  given 
alike  by  the  romancers,  yet  we  may  enumerate  the  most 
distinguished  of  them  as  follows :  Orlando  or  Roland 
(the  former  the  Italian,  the  latter  the  French  form  of 
the  name),  favorite  nephew  of  Charlemagne;  Rinaldo 
of  Montalban,  cousin  of  Orlando ;  Namo,  Duke  of  Ba- 
varia; Salomon,  king  of  Brittany;  Turpin,  the  Arch- 
bishop; Astolpho,  of  England;  Ogier,  the  Dane;  Mala- 
S'gi,  the  Enchanter;  and  Florismart,  the  friend  of 
rlando.  There  were  others  who  are  sometimes  named 
as  paladins,  and  the  number  cannot  be  strictly  limited 
to  twelve.  Charlemagne  himself  must  be  counted  one, 
and  Ganelon,  or  Gano,  of  Mayence,  the  treacherous 
enemy  of  all  the  rest,  was  rated  high  on  the  list  by  his 
deluded  sovereign,  who  was  completely  the  victim  of 
his  arts. 

We  shall  introduce  more  particularly  to  our  readers 
a  few  of  the  principal  peers,  leaving  the  others  to  make 
their  own  introduction  as  they  appear  in  the  course  of 
our  narrative.  We  begin  with  Orlando. 

ORLANDO 

Milon,  or  Milone,  a  knight  of  great  family,  and  dis- 
tantly related  to  Charlemagne,  having  secretly  married 
Bertha,  the  Emperor's  sister,  was  banished  from  France, 
and  excommunicated  by  the  Pope.  After  a  long  and 
miserable  wandering  on  foot  as  mendicants  Milon  and 
his  wife  arrived  at  Sutri,  in  Italy,  where  they  took 
refuge  in  a  cave,  and  in  that  cave  Orlando  was  born. 
There  his  mother  continued,  deriving  a  scanty  support 
from  the  compassion  of  the  neighboring  peasants;  while 
Milon,  in  quest  of  honor  and  fortune,  went  into  foreign 


THE  PEERS,  OR  PALADINS  657 

lands.  Orlando  grew  up  among  the  children  of  the 
peasantry,  surpassing  them  all  in  strength  and  manly 
graces.  Among  his  companions  in  age,  though  in  sta- 
tion far  more  elevated,  was  Oliver,  son  of  the  governor 
of  the  town.  Between  the  two  boys  a  feud  arose  that 
led  to  a  fight,  in  which  Orlando  thrashed  his  rival ;  but 
this  did  not  prevent  a  friendship  springing  up  between 
the  two,  which  lasted  through  life. 

Orlando  was  so  poor  that  he  was  sometimes  half 
naked.  As  he  was  a  favorite  of  the  boys,  one  day 
four  of  them  brought  some  cloth  to  make  him  clothes. 
Two  brought  white  and  two  red;  and  from  this  circum- 
stance Orlando  took  his  coat-of-arms,  or  quarterings. 

When  Charlemagne  was  on  his  way  to  Rome  to  re- 
ceive the  imperial  crown  he  dined  in  public  in  Sutri. 
Orlando  and  his  mother  that  day  had  nothing  to  eat, 
and  Orlando  coming  suddenly  upon  the  royal  party, 
and  seeing  abundance  of  provisions,  seized  from  the  at- 
tendants as  much  as  he  could  carry  off,  and  made  good 
his  retreat  in  spite  of  their  resistance.  The  Emperor, 
being  told  of  this  incident,  was  reminded  of  an  intima- 
tion he  had  received  in  a  dream,  and  ordered  the  boy 
to  be  followed.  This  was  done  by  three  of  the  knights, 
whom  Orlando  would  have  encountered  with  a  cudgel 
on  their  entering  the  grotto,  had  not  his  mother  re- 
strained him.  When  they  heard  from  her  who  she 
was  they  threw  themselves  at  her  feet,  and  promised  to 
obtain  her  pardon  from  the  Emperor.  This  was  easily 
effected.  Orlando  was  received  into  favor  by  the  Em- 
peror, returned  with  him  to  France,  and  so  distinguished 
himself  that  he  became  the  most  powerful  support  of 
the  throne  and  of  Christianity.1 

ROLAND   AND    FERRAGUS 

Orlando,  or  Roland,  particularly  distinguished  himself 
by  his  combat  with  Ferragus.  Ferragus  was  a  giant, 
and  moreover  his  skin  was  of  such  impenetrable  stuff 
that  no  sword  could  make  any  impression  upon  it.  The 

1  It  is  plain  that  Shakspeare  borrowed  ffrom  this  source  the  similar 
incident  in  his  "As  you  Like  it."  The  names  of  characters  in  the  play, 
Orlando,  Oliver,  Rowland  indicate  the  sam»  thing. 


658  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

giant's  mode  of  fighting  was  to  seize  his  adversary  in 
his  arms  and  carry  him  off,  in  spite  of  all  the  struggles 
he  could  make.  Roland's  utmost  skill  only  availed  to 
keep  him  out  of  the  giant's  clutches,  but  all  his  efforts 
to  wound  him  with  the  sword  were  useless.  After  long 
fighting  Ferragus  was  so  weary  that  he  proposed  a 
truce,  and  when  it  was  agreed  upon  he  lay  down  and  im- 
mediately fell  asleep.  He  slept  in  perfect  security,  for 
it  was  against  all  the  laws  of  chivalry  to  take  advantage 
of  an  adversary  under  such  circumstances.  But  Fer- 
ragus lay  so  uncomfortably  for  the  want  of  a  pillow 
that  Orlando  took  pity  upon  him,  and  brought  a  smooth 
stone  and  placed  it  under  his  head.  When  the  giant 
woke  up,  after  a  refreshing  nap,  and  perceived  what 
Orlando  had  done,  he  seemed  quite  grateful,  became 
sociable,  and  talked  freely  in  the  usual  boastful  style 
of  such  characters.  Among  other  things  he  told  Orlando 
that  he  need  not  attempt  to  kill  him  with  a  sword,  for 
that  every  part  of  his  body  was  invulnerable,  except  this; 
and  as  he  spoke,  he  put  his  hand  to  the  vital  part,  just 
in  the  middle  of  his  breast.  Aided  by  this  information 
Orlando  succeeded,  when  the  fight  was  renewed,  in 
piercing  the  giant  in  the  very  spot  he  had  pointed  out, 
and  giving  him  a  death-wound.  Great  was  the  rejoicing 
in  the  Christian  camp,  and  many  the  praises  showered 
upon  the  victorious  paladin  by  the  Emperor  and  all  his 
host. 

On  another  occasion  Orlando  encountered  a  puissant 
Saracen  warrior,  and  took  from  him,  as  the  prize  of 
victory,  the  sword  Durindana  This  famous  weapon  had 
once  belonged  to  the  illustrious  prince  Hector  of  Troy. 
It  was  of  the  finest  workmanship,  and  of  such  strength 
and  temper  that  no  armor  in  the  world  could  stand 
against  it. 

A  ROLAND  FOR  AN   OLIVER 

Guerin  de  Montglave  held  the  lordship  of  Vienna, 
subject  to  Charlemagne.  He  had  quarrelled  with  his 
sovereign,  and  Charles  laid  siege  to  his  city,  having  rav- 
aged the  neighboring  country.  Guerin  was  an  aged 


THE  PEERS,  OR  PALADINS  659 

warrior,  but  relied  for  his  defence  upon  his  four  sons 
and  two  grandsons,  who  were  among  the  bravest  knights 
of  the  age.  After  the  siege  had  continued  two  months 
Charlemagne  received  tidings  that  Marsilius,  king  of 
Spain,  had  invaded  France,  and,  finding  himself  unop- 
posed, was  advancing  rapidly  in  the  Southern  provinces. 
At  this  intelligence  Charles  listened  to  the  counsel  of 
his  peers,  and  consented  to  put  the  quarrel  with  Guerin 
to  the  decision  of  Heaven,  by  single  combat  between  two 
knights,  one  of  each  party,  selected  by  lot.  The  pro- 
posal was  acceptable  to  Guerin  and  his  sons.  The  names 
of  the  four,  together  with  Guerin's  own,  who  would  not 
be  excused,  and  of  the  two  grandsons,  who  claimed  their 
lot,  being  put  into  a  helmet,  Oliver's  was  drawn  forth^ 
and  to  him,  the  youngest  of  the  grandsons,  was  assigned 
the  honor  and  the  peril  of  the  combat.  He  accepted  the 
award  with  delight,  exulting  in  being  thought  worthy  to 
maintain  the  cause  of  his  family.  On  Charlemagne's 
side  Roland  was  the  designated  champion,  and  neither  he 
nor  Oliver  knew  who  his  antagonist  was  to  be. 

They  met  on  an  island  in  the  Rhone,  and  the  war- 
riors of  both  camps  were  ranged  on  either  shore,  spec- 
tators of  the  battle.  At  the  first  encounter  both  lances 
were  shivered,  but  both  riders  kept  their  seats,  im- 
movable. They  dismounted,  and  drew  their  swords. 
Then  ensued  a  combat  which  seemed  so  equal,  that  the 
spectators  could  not  form  an  opinion  as  to  the  probable 
issue.  Two  hours  and  more  the  knights  continued  to 
strike  and  parry,  to  thrust  and  ward,  neither  showing  any 
sign  of  weariness,  nor  ever  being  taken  at  unawares. 
At  length  Orlando  struck  furiously  upon  Oliver's  shield, 
burying  Durindana  in  its  edge  so  deeply  that  he  could 
not  draw  it  back,  and  Oliver,  almost  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, thrust  so  vigorously  upon  Orlando's  breastplate 
that  his  sword  snapped  off  at  the  handle.  Thus  were 
the  two  warriors  left  weaponless.  Scarcely  pausing  a 
moment,  they  rushed  upon  one  another,  each  striving  to 
throw  his  adversary  to  the  ground,  and  failing  in  that, 
each  snatched  at  the  other's  helmet  to  tear  it  away.  Both 
succeeded,  and  at  the  same  moment  they  stood  bare- 
headed face  to  face,  and  Roland  recognized  Oliver,  and 


660  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Oliver  Roland.  For  a  moment  they  stood  still ;  and  the 
next,  with  open  arms,  rushed  into  one  another's  em- 
brace. "I  am  conquered,"  said  Orlando.  "I  yield  me." 
said  Oliver. 

The  people  on  the  shore  knew  not  what  to  make  of 
all  this.  Presently  they  saw  the  two  late  antagonists 
standing  hand  in  hand,  and  it  was  evident  the  battle  was 
at  an  end.  The  knights  crowded  round  them,  and  with 
one  voice  hailed  them  as  equals  in  glory.  If  there  were 
any  who  felt  disposed  to  murmur  that  the  battle  was 
left  undecided  they  were  silenced  by  the  voice  of  Ogier 
the  Dane,  who  proclaimed  aloud  that  all  had  been  done 
that  honor  required,  and  declared  that  he  would  main- 
tain that  award  against  all  gainsayers. 

The  quarrel  with  Guerin  and  his  sons  being  left  un- 
decided, a  truce  was  made  for  four  days,  and  in  that 
time,  by  the  efforts  of  Duke  Namo  on  the  one  side,  and 
of  Oliver  on  the  other,  a  reconciliation  was  effected. 
Charlemagne,  accompanied  by  Guerin  and  his  valiant 
family,  marched  to  meet  Marsilius,  who  hastened  to  re- 
treat across  the  frontier. 

RINALDO 

Rinaldo  was  one  of  the  four  sons  df  Aymon,  who 
married  Aya,  the  sister  of  Charlemagne.  Thus  Rinaldo 
was  nephew  to  Charlemagne  and  cousin  of  Orlando. 

When  Rinaldo  had  grown  old  enough  to  assume  arms 
Orlando  had  won  for  himself  an  illustrious  name  by 
his  exploits  against  the  Saracens,  whom  Charlemagne 
and  his  brave  knights  had  driven  out  of  France.  Or- 
lando's fame  excited  a  noble  emulation  in  Rinaldo. 
Eager  to  go  in  pursuit  of  glory,  he  wandered  in  the 
country  near  Paris,  and  one  day  saw  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree  a  superb  horse,  fully  equipped  and  loaded  with 
•  i  complete  suit  of  armor.  Rinaldo  clothed  himself  in 
the  armor  and  mounted  the  horse,  but  took  not  the 
sword.  On  the  day  when,  with  his  brothers,  he  had  re- 
ceived the  honor  of  knighthood  from  the  Emperor  he 
had  sworn  never  to  bind  a  sword  to  his  side  till  he  had 
wrested  one  from  some  famous  knight. 


THE  PEERS,  OR  PALADINS  661 

Rinaldo  took  his  way  to  the  forest  of  Arden,  cele- 
brated for  so  many  adventures.  Hardly  had  he  entered 
it  when  he  met  an  old  man,  bending  under  the  weight 
of  years,  and  learned  from  him  that  the  forest  was  in- 
fested with  a  wild  horse,  untamable,  that  broke  and 
overturned  everything  that  opposed  his  career.  To  at- 
tack him,  he  said,  or  even  to  meet  him,  was  certain 
death.  Rinaldo,  far  from  being  alarmed,  showed  the 
most  eager  desire  to  combat  the  animal.  This  was  the 
horse  Bayard,  afterward  so  famous.  He  had  formerly 
belonged  to  Amadis  of  Gaul.  After  the  death  of  tha't 
hero  he  had  been  held  under  enchantment  by  the  power 
of  a  magician,  who  predicted  that,  when  the  time  came 
to  break  the  spell,  he  should  be  subdued  by  a  knight  of 
the  lineage  of  Amadis,  and  not  less  brave  than  he. 

To  win  this  wonderful  horse  it  was  necessary  to  con- 
quer him  by  force  or  skill;  for  from  the  moment  when 
he  should  be  thrown  down  he  would  become  docile  and 
manageable.  His  habitual  resort  was  a  cave  on  the 
borders  of  the  forest ;  but  woe  be  to  any  one  who  should 
approach  him,  unless  gifted  with  strength  and  courage 
more  than  mortal.  Having  told  this,  the  old  man  de- 
parted. He  was  not,  in  fact,  an  old  man,  but  Malagigi, 
the  enchanter,  cousin  of  Rinaldo,  who,  to  favor  the  en- 
terprises of  the  young  knight,  had  procured  for  him 
the  horse  and  armor  which  he  so  opportunely  found,  and 
now  put  him  in  the  way  to  acquire  a  horse  unequalled 
in  the  world. 

Rinaldo  plunged  into  the  forest,  and  spent  many  days 
in  seeking  Bayard,  but  found  no  traces  of  him.  One 
day  he  encountered  a  Saracen  knight,  with  whom  he 
made  acquaintance,  as  often  happened  to  knights,  by  first 
meeting  him  in  combat.  This  knight,  whose  name  was 
Isolier,  was  also  in  quest  of  Bayard.  Rinaldo  succeeded 
in  the  encounter,  and  so  severe  was  the  shock  that  Isolier 
was  a  long  time  insensible.  When  he  revived,  and  was 
about  to  resume  the  contest,  a  peasant  who  passed  by 
(it  was  Malagigi)  interrupted  them  with  the  news  that 
the  terrible  horse  was  near  at  hand,  advising  them  to 
unite  their  powers  to  subdue  him,  for  it  would  require 
all  (heir  ability. 


662  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Rinaldo  and  Isolier,  now  become  friends,  proceeded 
together  to  the  attack  of  the  horse.  They  found  Bayard, 
and  stood  a  long  time,  concealed  by  the  wood,  ad- 
miring his  strength  and  beauty. 

A  bright  bay  in  color  (whence  he  was  called  Bayard), 
with  a  silver  star  in  his  forehead,  and  his  hind  feet 
white,  his  body  slender,  his  head  delicate,  his  ample 
chest  filled  out  with  swelling  muscles,  his  shoulders 
broad  and  full,  his  legs  straight  and  sinewy,  his  thick 
mane  falling  over  his  arching  neck, — he  came  rushing 
through  the  forest,  regardless  of  rocks,  bushes,  or  trees, 
rending  everything  that  opposed  his  way,  and  neighing 
defiance. 

He  first  descried  Isolier,  and  rushed  upon  him.  The 
knight  received  him  with  lance  in  rest,  but  the  fierce 
animal  broke  the  spear,  and  his  course  was  not  de- 
layed by  it  for  an  instant.  The  Spaniard  adroitly  stepped 
aside,  and  gave  way  to  the  rushing  tempest.  Bayard 
checked  his  career,  and  turned  again  upon  the  knight, 
who  had  already  drawn  his  sword.  He  drew  his  sword, 
for  he  had  no  hope  of  taming  the  horse;  that,  he  was 
satisfied,  was  impossible. 

Bayard  rushed  upon  him ;  fiercely  rearing,  now  on  this 
side,  now  on  that.  The  knight  struck  him  with  his 
sword,  where  the  white  star  adorned  his  forehead,  but 
struck  in  vain,  and  felt  ashamed,  thinking  that  he  had 
struck  feebly,  for  he  did  not  know  that  the  skin  of  that 
horse  was  so  tough  that  the  keenest  sword  could  make 
no  impression  upon  it. 

Whistling  fell  the  sword  once  more,  and  struck  with 
greater  force,  and  the  fierce  horse  felt  it,  and  drooped 
his  head  under  the  blow,  but  the  next  moment  turned 
upon  his  foe  with  such  a  buffet  that  the  Pagan  fell 
stunned  and  lifeless  to  the  earth. 

Rinaldo,  who  saw  Isolier  fall,  and  thought  that  his 
life  was  reft,  darted  towards  the  horse,  and,  with  his 
fist  gave  him  such  a  blow  on  the  jaws  that  the  blood 
tinged  his  mouth  with  vermilion.  Quicker  than  an 
arrow  leaves  the  bow  the  horse  turned  upon  him,  and 
tried  to  seize  his  arm  with  his  teeth. 

The  knight  stepped  back,  and  then,  repeating  his  blow, 


THE  PEERS,  OR  PALADINS  66J 

struck  him  on  the  forehead.  Bayard  turned,  and  kicked 
with  both  his  feet  with  a  force  that  would  have  shattered 
a  mountain.  Rinaldo  was  on  his  guard,  and  evaded  his 
attacks,  whether  made  with  head  or  heels.  He  kept  at 
his  side  avoiding  both;  but,  making  a  false  step,  he  at 
last  received  a  terrible  blow  from  the  horse's  foot,  and 
at  the  shock  almost  fainted  away.  A  second  such  blow 
would  have  killed  him,  but  the  horse  kicked  at  random, 
and  a  second  blow  did  not  reach  Rinaldo,  who  in  a  mo- 
ment recovered  himself.  Thus  the  contest  continued 
until  by  chance  Bayard's  foot  got  caught  between  the 
branches  of  an  oak.  Rinaldo  seized  it  and  putting  forth 
all  his  strength  and  address,  threw  him  on  the  ground. 

No  sooner  had  Bayard  touched  the  ground  than  all 
his  rage  subsided.  No  longer  an  object  of  terror,  he 
became  gentle  and  quiet,  yet  with  dignity  in  his  mildness. 

The  paladin  patted  his  neck,  stroked  his  breast,  and 
smoothed  his  mane,  while  the  animal  neighed  and 
showed  delight  to  be  caressed  by  his  master.  Rinaldo, 
seeing  him  now  completely  subdued,  took  the  saddle  and 
trappings  from  the  other  horse,  and  adorned  Bayard  with 
the  spoils. 

Rinaldo  became  one  of  the  most  illustrious  knights 
of  Charlemagne's  court, — indeed,  the  most  illustrious,  if 
we  except  Orlando.  Yet  he  was  not  always  so  obe- 
dient to  the  Emperor's  commands  as  he  should  have 
been,  and  every  fault  he  committed  was  sure  to  be  ag- 
gravated by  the  malice  of  Gan,  Duke  of  Maganza,  the 
treacherous  enemy  of  Rinaldo  and  all  his  house. 

At  one  time  Rinaldo  had  incurred  the  severe  dis- 
pleasure of  Charlemagne,  and  been  banished  from  court. 
Seeing  no  chance  of  being  ever  restored  to  favor,  he 
went  to  Spain,  and  entered  into  the  service  of  the  Sara- 
cen king,  Ivo.  His  brothers,  Alardo,  Ricardo,  and 
Ricciardetto,  accompanied  him,  and  all  four  served  the 
king  so  faithfully  that  they  rose  to  high  favor  with  him. 
The  king  gave  them  land  in  the  mountains  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  France  and  Spain,  and  subjected  all  the  country 
round  to  Rinaldo's  authority.  There  was  plenty  of 
marble  in  the  mountains,  the  king  furnished  workmen, 
and  they  built  a  castle  for  Rinaldo,  surrounded  with 


664  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

high  walls,  so  as  to  be  almost  impregnable.  Built  of 
white  stone,  and  placed  on  the  brow  of  a  marble  pro- 
montory, the  castle  shone  like  a  star,  and  Rinaldo  gave 
it  the  name  of  Montalban.  Here  he  assembled  his 
friends,  many  of  whom  were  banished  men  like  himself, 
and  the  country  people  furnished  them  with  provisions 
in  return  for  the  protection  the  castle  afforded.  Yet 
some  of  Rinaldo's  men  were  lawless,  and  sometimes  the 
supplies  were  not  furnished  in  sufficient  abundance,  so 
that  Rinaldo  and  his  garrison  got  a  bad  name  for  tak- 
ing by  force  what  they  could  not  obtain  by  gift;  and 
we  sometimes  find  Montalban  spoken  of  as  a  nest  of 
freebooters,  and  its  defenders  called  a  beggarly  garrison. 
Charlemagne's  displeasure  did  not  last  long,  and,  at 
the  time  our  history  commences,  Rinaldo  and  his  broth- 
ers were  completely  restored  to  the  favor  of  the  Em- 
peror, and  none  of  his  cavaliers  served  him  with  greater 
zeal  and  fidelity  than  they,  throughout  all  his  wars  with 
the  Saracens  and  Pagans. 


THE  TOURNAMENT 

IT  was  the  month  of  May,  and  the  feast  of  Pentecost. 
Charlemagne  had  ordered  magnificent  festivities,  and 
summoned  to  them,  besides  his  paladins  and  vassals  of 
the  crown,  all  strangers,  Christian  or  Saracen,  then  so- 
journing at  Paris.  Among  the  guests  were  King 
Grandonio,  from  Spain;  and  Ferrau,  the  Saracen,  with 
eyes  like  an  eagle;  Orlando  and  Rinaldo,  the  Emperor's 
nephews ;  Duke  Namo ;  Astolpho,  of  England,  the  hand- 
somest man  living;  Malagigi,  the  Enchanter;  and  Gano, 
of  Maganza,  that  wily  traitor,  who  had  the  art  to  make 
the  Emperor  think  he  loved  him,  while  he  plotted  against 
him. 

High  sat  Charlemagne  at  the  head  of  his  vassals  and 
his  paladins,  rejoicing  in  the  thought  of  their  number 
and  their  might,  while  all  were  sitting  and  hearing  music, 
and  feasting,  when  suddenly  there  came  into  the  hall 
four  enormous  giants,  having  between  them  a  lady  of 


THE  TOURNAMENT  665 

incomparable  beauty,  attended  by  a  single  knight.  There 
were  many  ladies  present  who  had  seemed  beautiful  till 
she  made  her  appearance,  but  after  that  they  all  seemed 
nothing.  Every  Christian  knight  turned  his  eyes  to  her, 
and  every  Pagan  crowded  round  her,  while  she,  with  a 
sweetness  that  might  have  touched  a  heart  of  stone,  thus 
addressed  the  Emperor: 

"High-minded  lord,  the  renown  of  your  worthiness, 
and  of  the  valor  of  these  your  knights,  which  echoes 
from  sea  to  sea,  encourages  me  to  hope  that  two  pil- 
grims, who  have  come  from  the  ends  of  the  world  to 
behold  you,  will  not  have  encountered  their  fatigue  in 
vain.  And,  before  I  show  the  motive  which  has  brought 
us  hither,  learn  that  this  knight  is  my  brother  Uberto, 
and  that  I  am  his  sister  Angelica.  Fame  has  told  us  of 
the  jousting  this  day  appointed,  and  so  the  prince  my 
brother  has  come  to  prove  his  valor,  and  to  say  that, 
if  any  of  the  knights  here  assembled  choose  to  meet 
him  in  the  joust,  he  will  encounter  them,  one  by  one, 
at  the  stair  of  Merlin,  by  the  Fountain  of  the  Pine. 
And  his  conditions  are  these :  No  knight  who  chances 
to  be  thrown  shall  be  allowed  to  renew  the  combat,  but 
shall  remain  prisoner  to  my  brother;  but  if  my  brother 
be  overthrown  he  shall  depart  out  of  the  country,  leaving 
me  as  the  prize  of  the  conqueror." 

Now  it  must  be  stated  that  this  Angelica  and  her 
brother,  who  called  himself  Uberto,  but  whose  real  name 
was  Argalia,  were  the  children  of  Galafron,  king  of 
Cathay,  who  had  sent  them  to  be  the  destruction  of 
the  Christian  host;  for  Argalia  was  armed  with  an  en- 
chanted lance,  which  unfailingly  overthrew  everything  it 
touched,  and  he  was  mounted  on  a  horse,  a  creature  of 
magic,  whose  swiftness  outstripped  the  wind.  Angelica 
possessed  also  a  ring  which  was  a  defence  against  all 
enchantments,  and  when  put  into  the  mouth  rendered 
the  bearer  invisible.  Thus  Argalia  was  expected  to  sub- 
due and  take  prisoners  whatever  knights  should  dare  to 
encounter  him;  and  the  charms  of  Angelica  were  relied 
on  to  entice  the  paladins  to  make  the  fatal  venture,  while 
her  ring  would  afford  her  easy  means  of  escape. 

When  Angelica  ceased  sneaking  she  knelt  before  the 


666  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

king  and  awaited  his  answer,  and  everybody  gazed  on 
her  with  admiration.  Orlando  especially  felt  irresistibly 
drawn  towards  her,  so  that  he  trembled  and  changed 
countenance.  Every  knight  in  the  hall  was  infected  with 
the  same  feeling,  not  excepting  old  white-headed  Duke 
Namo  and  Charlemagne  himself. 

All  stood  for  a  while  in  silence,  lost  in  the  delight  of 
looking  at  her.  The  fiery  youth  Ferrau  could  hardly  re- 
strain himself  from  seizing  her  from  the  giants  and 
carrying  her  away;  Rinaldo  turned  as  red  as  fire,  while 
Malagigi,  who  had  discovered  by  his  art  that  the  stranger 
was  not  speaking  truth,  muttered  softly,  as  he  looked  at 
her,  "Exquisite  false  creature !  I  will  play  thee  such  a 
trick  for  this,  as  will  leave  thee  no  cause  to  boast  of 
thy  visit.'* 

Charlemagne,  to  detain  her  as  long  as  possible  before 
him,  delayed  his  assent  till  he  had  asked  her  a  number 
of  questions,  all  which  she  answered  discreetly,  and 
then  the  challenge  was  accepted. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone  Malagigi  consulted  his  book, 
and  found  out  the  whole  plot  of  the  vile,  infidel  king, 
Galafron,  as  we  have  explained  it,  so  he  determined  to 
seek  the  damsel  and  frustrate  her  designs.  He  hastened 
to  the  appointed  spot,  and  there  found  the  prince  and 
his  sister  in  a  beautiful  pavilion,  where  they  lay  asleep, 
while  the  four  giants  kept  watch.  Malagigi  took  his 
book  and  cast  a  spell  out  of  it,  and  immediately  the 
four  giants  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  Drawing  his  sword 
(for  he  was  a  belted  knight),  he  softly  approached  the 
young  lady,  intending  to  despatch  her  at  once;  but, 
seeing  her  look  so  lovely,  he  paused  for  a  moment,  think- 
ing there  was  no  need  of  hurry,  as  he  believed  his  spell 
was  upon  her,  and  she  could  not  wake.  But  the  ring 
which  she  wore  secured  her  from  the  effect  of  the  spell, 
and  some  slight  noise,  or  whatever  else  it  was,  caused 
her  at  that  moment  to  awake.  She  uttered  a  great  cry, 
and  flew  to  her  brother,  and  waked  him.  By  the  help 
of  her  knowledge  of  enchantment,  they  took  and  bound 
fast  the  magician,  and,  seizing-  his  book,  turned  his  arts 
against  himself.  Then  they  summoned  a  crowd  of  de- 
mons, and  bade  them  seize  their  prisoner  and  bear  him 


THE  TOURNAMENT  667 

to  King  Galafron,  at  his  great  city  of  Albracca,  which 
they  did,  and,  on  his  arrival,  he  was  locked  up  in  a  rock 
under  the  sea. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  all  was  uproar  at 
Paris,  since  Orlando  insisted  upon  being  the  first  to 
try  the  adventure  at  the  stair  of  Merlin.  This  was  re- 
sented by  the  other  pretenders  to  Angelica,  and  all  con- 
tested his  right  to  the  precedence.  The  tumult  was 
stilled  by  the  usual  expedient  of  drawing  lots,  and  the 
first  prize  was  drawn  by  Astolpho.  Ferrau,  the  Sara- 
cen, had  the  second,  and  Grandonio  the  third.  Next 
came  Berlinghieri,  and  Otho;  then  Charles  himself,  and, 
as  his  ill-fortune  would  have  it,  after  thirty  more,  the 
indignant  Orlando. 

Astolpho,  who  drew  the  first  lot,  was  handsome^ 
brave,  and  rich.  But,  whether  from  heedlessness  or 
want  of  skill,  he  was  an  unlucky  j ouster,  and  very  apt 
to  be  thrown,  an  accident  which  he  bore  with  perfect 
good-humor,  always  ready  to  mount  again  and  try  to 
mend  his  fortune,  generally  with  no  better  success. 

Astolpho  went  forth  upon  his  adventure  with  great 
gayety  of  dress  and  manner,  encountered  Argalia,  and 
was  immediately  tilted  out  of  the  saddle.  He  railed 
at  fortune,  to  whom  he  laid  all  the  fault;  but  his  pain- 
ful feelings  were  somewhat  relieved  by  the  kindness  of 
Angelica,  who,  touched  by  his  youth  and  good  looks, 
granted  him  the  liberty  of  the  pavilion,  and  caused  him 
to  be  treated  with  all  kindness  and  respect. 

The  violent  Ferrau  had  the  next  chance  in  the  en- 
counter, and  was  thrown  no  less  speedily  than  Astolpho; 
but  he  did  not  so  easily  put  up  with  his  mischance.  Cry- 
ing out,  "What  are  the  emperor's  engagements  to  me?" 
he  rushed  with  his  sword  against  Argalia,  who,  being 
forced  to  defend  himself,  dismounted  and  drew  his 
sword,  but  got  so  much  the  worse  of  the  fight  that  he 
made  a  signal  of  surrender,  and,  after  some  words,  lis- 
tened to  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  Ferrau  to  his  sister. 
The  beauty,  however,  feeling  no  inclination  to  match 
with  such  a  rough  and  savage-looking  person,  was  so 
dismayed  at  the  offer,  that,  hastily  bidding  her  brother 
to  meet  her  in  the  forest  of  Arden,  she  vanished  from 


668  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

the  sight  of  both  by  means  of  the  enchanted  ring. 
Argalia,  seeing  this,  took  to  his  horse  of  swiftness,  and 
dashed  away  in  the  same  direction.  Ferrau  pursued 
him,  and  Astolpho,  thus  left  to  himself,  took  possession 
of  the  enchanted  lance  in  place  of  his  own,  which  was 
broken,  not  knowing  th§  treasure  he  possessed  in  it,  and 
returned  to  the  tournament.  Charlemagne,  finding  the 
lady  and  her  brother  gone,  ordered  the  jousting  to  pro- 
ceed as  at  first  intended,  in  which  Astolpho,  by  aid  of 
the  enchanted  lance,  unhorsed  all  comers  against  him, 
equally  to  their  astonishment  and  his  own. 

The  paladin  Rinaldo,  on  learning  the  issue  of  the 
combat  of  Ferrau  and  the  stranger,  galloped  after  the 
fair  fugitive  in  an  agony  of  love  and  impatience.  Or- 
lando, perceiving  his  disappearance,  pushed  forth  in  like 
manner;  and,  at  length,  all  three  are  in  the  forest  of 
Arden,  hunting  about  for  her  who  is  invisible. 

Now  in  this  forest  there  were  two  fountains,  the  one 
constructed  by  the  sage  Merlin,  who  designed  it  for 
Tristram  and  the  fair  Isoude;1  for  such  was  the  virtue 
of  this  fountain,  that  a  draught  of  its  waters  produced 
on  oblivion  of  the  love  which  the  drinker  might  feel, 
and  even  produced  aversion  for  the  object  formerly  be- 
loved. The  other  fountain  was  endowed  with  exactly 
opposite  qualities,  and  a  draught  of  it  inspired  love  for 
the  first  living  object  that  was  seen  after  tasting  it. 
Rinaldo  happened  to  come  to  the  first  mentioned 
fountain,  and,  being  flushed  with  heat,  dismounted, 
and  quenched  in  one  draught  both  his  thirst  and  his  pas- 
sion. So  far  from  loving  Angelica  as  before  he  hated 
her  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  became  disgusted  with 
the  search  he  was  upon,  and,  feeling  fatigued  with  his 
ride,  finding  a  sheltered  and  flowery  nook,  laid  himself 
down  and  fell  asleep. 

Shortly  after  came  Angelica,  but,  approaching  in  a 
different  direction,  she  espied  the  other  fountain,  and 
there  quenched  her  thirst.  Then  resuming  her  way,  she 
came  upon  the  sleeping  Rinaldo.  Love  instantly  seized 
her,  and  she  stood  rooted  to  the  spot. 

The  meadow  round  was  all  full  of  lilies  of  the  valley 

1See  their  story  in  "King  Arthur  and  His  Knights." 


THE  TOURNAMENT  669 

and  wild  roses.  Angelica,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  at 
length  plucked  a  handful  of  these,  and  dropped  them, 
one  by  one,  on  the  face  of  the  sleeper.  He  woke  up, 
and,  seeing  who  it  was,  received  her  salutations  with 
averted  countenance,  remounted  his  horse,  and  galloped 
away.  In  vain  the  beautiful  creature  followed  and 
called  after  him,  in  vain  asked  him  what  she  had  done 
to  be  so  despised.  Rinaldo  disappeared,  leaving  her  in 
despair,  and  she  returned  in  tears  to  the  spot  where 
she  had  found  him  sleeping.  There,  in  her  turn,  she 
herself  lay  down,  pressing  the  spot  of  earth  on  which  he 
had  lain,  and,  out  of  fatigue  and  sorrow,  fell  asleep. 

As  Angelica  thus  lay,  fortune  conducted  Orlando  to 
the  same  place.  The  attitude  in  which  she  was  sleep- 
ing was  so  lovely  that  it  is  not  to  be  conceived,  much 
less  expressed.  Orlando  stood  gazing  like  a  man  who 
had  been  transported  to  another  sphere.  "Am  I  on 
earth,"  he  exclaimed,  "or  am  I  in  Paradise?  Surely 
it  is  I  that  sleep,  and  this  is  my  dream." 

But  his  dream  was  proved  to  be  none  in  a  manner 
which  he  little  desired.  Ferrau,  who  had  slain  Argalia, 
came  up,  raging  with  jealousy,  and  a  combat  ensued 
which  awoke  the  sleeper. 

Terrified  at  what  she  beheld,  she  rushed  to  her  pal- 
frey, and,  while  the  fighters  were  occupied  with  one 
another,  fled  away  through  the  forest.  The  champions 
continued  their  fight  till  they  were  interrupted  by  a  mes- 
senger, who  brought  word  to  Ferrau  that  king  Mar- 
silius,  his  sovereign,  was  in  pressing  need  of  his  as- 
sistance, and  conjured  him  to  return  to  Spain.  Ferrau, 
upon  this,  proposed  to  suspend  the  combat,  to  which 
Orlando,  eager  to  pursue  Angelica,  agreed.  Ferrau,  on 
the  other  hand,  departed  with  the  messenger  to  Spain. 

Orlando's  quest  for  the  fair  fugitive  was  all  in  vain. 
Aided  by  the  powers  of  magic,  she  made  a  speedy  re- 
turn to  her  own  country. 

But  the  thought  of  Rinaldo  could  not  be  banished 
from  her  mind,  and  she  determined  to  set  Malagigi  at 
liberty,  and  to  employ  him  to  win  Rinaldo,  if  possible, 
to  make  her  a  return  of  affection.  She  accordingly 
freed  him  from  his  dungeon,  unlocking  his  fetters  with 


670  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

her  own  hands,  and  restored  him  his  book,  promising 
him  ample  honors  and  rewards  on  condition  of  his 
bringing  Rinaldo  to  her  feet. 

Malagigi  accordingly,  with  the  aid  of  his  book,  called 
up  a  demon,  mounted  him,  and  departed.  Arrived  at 
his  destination,  he  inveigled  Rinaldo  into  an  enchanted 
bark,  which  conveyed  him,  without  any  visible  pilot,  to 
an  island  where  stood  an  edifice  called  Joyous  Castle. 
The  whole  island  was  a  garden.  On  the  western  side, 
close  to  the  sea,  was  the  palace,  built  of  marble,  so  clear 
and  polished  that  it  reflected  the  landscape  about  it. 
Rinaldo  leapt  ashore,  and  soon  met  a  lady,  who  invited 
him  to  enter.  The  house  was  as  beautiful  within  as 
without,  full  of  rooms  adorned  with  azure  and  gold, 
and  with  noble  paintings.  The  lady  led  the  knight  into 
an  apartment  painted  with  stories,  and  opening  to  the 
garden,  through  pillars  of  crystal,  with  golden  capitals. 
Here  he  found  a  bevy  of  ladies,  three  of  whom  were 
singing  in  concert,  while  another  played  on  an  instru- 
ment of  exquisite  accord,  and  the  rest  danced  round 
about  them.  When  the  ladies  beheld  him  coming  they 
turned  the  dance  into  a  circuit  round  him,  and  then 
one  of  them,  in  the  sweetest  manner,  said,  "Sir  knight, 
the  tables  are  set,  and  the  hour  for  the  banquet  is  come ;" 
and,  with  these  words,  still  dancing,  they  drew  him 
across  the  lawn  in  front  of  the  apartment,  to  a  table  that 
was  spread  with  cloth  of  gold  and  fine  linen,  under  a 
bower  of  damask  roses  by  the  side  of  a  fountain. 

Four  ladies  were  already  seated  there,  who  rose,  and 
placed  Rinaldo  at  their  head,  in  a  chair  set  with  pearls. 
And  truly  indeed  was  he  astonished.  A  repast  ensued, 
consisting  of  viands  the  most  delicate,  and  wines  as 
fragrant  as  they  were  fine,  drunk  out  of  jewelled  cups ; 
and,  when  it  drew  towards  its  conclusion,  harps  and 
lutes  were  heard  in  the  distance,  and  one  of  the  ladies 
said  in  the  knight's  ear:  "This  house  and  all  that  you 
see  in  it  are  yours;  for  you  alone  was  it  built,  and  the 
builder  is  a  queen.  Happy  indeed  must  you  think  your- 
self, for  she  loves  you,  and  she  is  the  greatest  beauty  in 
the  world !  Her  name  is  Angelica." 

The  moment  Rinaldo  heard  the  name  he  so  detested 


THE  TOURNAMENT  671 

he  started  up,  with  a  changed  countenance,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  that  the  lady  could  say,  broke  off  across  the  gar- 
den, and  never  ceased  hastening  till  he  reached  the  place 
where  he  landed.  The  bark  was  still  on  the  shore.  He 
sprang  into  it,  and  pushed  off,  though  he  saw  nobody 
in  it  but  himself.  It  was  in  vain  for  him  to  try  to 
control  its  movements,  for  it  dashed  on  as  if  in  fury, 
till  it  reached  a  distant  shore  covered  with  a  gloomy 
forest.  Here  Rinaldo,  surrounded  by  enchantments  of 
a  very  different  sort  from  those  which  he  had  lately  re- 
sisted, was  entrapped  into  a  pit. 

The  pit  belonged  to  a  castle  called  Altaripa,  which 
was  hung  with  human  heads,  and  painted  red  with  blood. 
As  the  paladin  was  viewing  the  scene  with  amazement 
a  hideous  old  woman  made  her  appearance  at  the  edge 
of  the  pit,  and  told  him  that  he  was  destined  to  be 
thrown  to  a  monster,  who  was  only  kept  from  devastat- 
ing the  whole  country  by  being  supplied  with  living  hu- 
man flesh.  Rinaldo  said,  "Be  it  so;  let  me  but  remain 
armed  as  I  am,  and  I  fear  nothing."  The  old  woman 
laughed  in  derision.  Rinaldo  remained  in  the  pit  all 
night,  and  the  next  morning  was  taken  to  the  place 
where  the  monster  had  his  den.  It  was  a  court  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall.  Rinaldo  was  shut  in  with  the 
beast,  and  a  terrible  combat  ensued.  Rinaldo  was  un- 
able to  make  any  impression  on  the  scales  of  the  mon- 
ster, while  he,  on  the  contrary,  with  his  dreadful  claws, 
tore  away  plate  and  mail  from  the  paladin.  Rinaldo 
began  to  think  his  last  hour  was  come,  and  cast  his  eyes 
around  and  above  to  see  if  there  was  any  means  of 
escape.  He  perceived  a  beam  projecting  from  the  wall 
at  the  height  of  some  ten  feet,  and,  taking  a  leap  almost 
miraculous,  he  succeeded  in  reaching  it,  and  in  flinging 
himself  up  across  it.  Here  he  sat  for  hours,  the  hideous 
brute  continually  trying  to  reach  him.  All  at  once  he 
heard  the  sound  of  something  coming  through  the  air 
like  a  bird,  and  suddenly  Angelica  herself  alighted  on 
the  end  of  the  beam.  She  held  something  in  her  hand 
towards  him,  and  spoke  to  him  in  a  loving  voice.  But 
the  moment  Rinaldo  saw  her  he  commanded  her  to  go 
away,  refused  all  her  offers  of  assistance,  and  at  length 


672  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

declared  that,  if  she  did  not  leave  him,  he  would  cast 
himself  down  to  the  monster,  and  meet  his  fate. 

Angelica,  saying  she  would  lose  her  life  rather  than 
displease  him,  departed ;  but  first  she  threw  to  the  mon- 
ster a  cake  of  wax  she  had  prepared,  and  spread  around 
him  a  rope  knotted  with  nooses.  The  beast  took  the 
bait,  and,  finding  his  teeth  glued  together  by  the  wax, 
vented  his  fury  in  bounds  and  leaps,  and,  soon  getting 
entangled  in  the  nooses,  drew  them  tight  by  his  struggles, 
so  that  he  could  scarcely  move  a  limb. 

Rinaldo,  watching  his  chance,  leapt  down  upon  his 
back,  seized  him  round  the  neck,  and  throttled  him,  not 
relaxing  his  gripe  till  the  beast  fell  dead. 

Another  difficulty  remained  to  be  overcome.  The 
walls  were  of  immense  height,  and  the  only  opening  in 
them  was  a  grated  window  of  such  strength  that  he 
could  not  break  the  bars.  In  his  distress  Rinaldo  found 
a  file,  which  Angelica  had  left  on  the  ground,  and,  with 
the  help  of  this,  effected  his  deliverance. 

What  further  adventures  he  met  with  will  be  told  in 
another  chapter. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA 

AT  the  very  time  when  Charlemagne  was  holding  his 
plenary  court  and  his  great  tournament  his  kingdom  was 
invaded  by  a  mighty  monarch,  who  was  moreover  so 
valiant  and  strong  in  battle  that  no  one  could  stand 
against  him.  He  was  named  Gradasso,  and  his  kingdom 
was  called  Sericane.  Now,  as  it  often  happens  to  the 
greatest  and  the  richest  to  long  for  what  they  cannot 
have,  and  thus  to  lose  what  they  already  possess,  this 
king  could  not  rest  content  without  Durindana,  the 
sword  of  Orlando,  and  Bayard,  the  horse  of  Rinaldo. 
To  obtain  these  he  determined  to  war  upon  France,  and 
for  this  purpose  put  in  array  a  mighty  army. 

He  took  his  way  through  Spain,  and,  after  defeating 
Marsilius,  the  king  of  that  country,  in  several  battles, 
was  rapidly  advancing  on  France.  Charlemagne,  though 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA  673 

Marsilius  was  a  Saracen,  and  had  been  his  enemy,  yet 
felt  it  needful  to  succor  him  in  this  extremity  from  a 
consideration  of  common  danger,  and,  with  the  consent 
of  his  peers,  despatched  Rinaldo  with  a  strong  body  of 
soldiers  against  Gradasso. 

There  was  much  righting,  with  doubtful  results,  and 
Gradasso  was  steadily  advancing  into  France.  But,  im- 
patient to  achieve  his  objects,  he  challenged  Rinaldo  to 
single  combat,  to  be  fought  on  foot,  and  upon  these  con- 
ditions: If  Rinaldo  conquered,  Gradasso  agreed  to  give 
up  all  his  prisoners  and  return  to  his  own  country;  but 
if  Gradasso  won  the  day,  he  was  to  have  Bayard. 

The  challenge  was  accepted,  and  would  have  been 
fought  had  it  not  been  for  the  arts  of  Malagigi,  who 
just  then  returned  from  Angelica's  kingdom  with  set 
purpose  to  win  Rinaldo  to  look  with  favor  upon  the 
fair  princess  who  was  dying  for  love  of  him.  Malagigi 
drew  Rinaldo  away  from  the  army  by  putting  on  the 
semblance  of  Gradasso,  and,  after  a  short  contest,  pre- 
tending to  fly  before  him,  by  which  means  Rinaldo  was 
induced  to  follow  him  into  a  boat,  in  which  he  was 
borne  away,  and  entangled  in  various  adventures,  as  we 
have  already  related. 

The  army,  left  under  the  command  of  Ricciardetto, 
Rinaldo's  brother,  was  soon  joined  by  Charlemagne  and 
all  his  peerage,  but  experienced  a  disastrous  rout,  and 
the  Emperor  and  many  of  his  paladins  were  taken 
prisoners.  Gradasso,  however,  did  not  abuse  his  vic- 
tory; he  took  Charles  by  the  hand,  seated  him  by  his 
side,  and  told  him  he  warred  only  for  honor.  He  re- 
nounced all  conquests,  on  condition  that  the  Emperor 
should  deliver  to  him  Bayard  and  Durindana,  both  of 
them  the  property  of  his  vassals,  the  former  of  which, 
as  he  maintained,  was  already  forfeited  to  him  by 
Rinaldo's  failure  to  meet  him  as  agreed.  To  these  terms 
Charlemagne  readily  acceded. 

Bayard,  after  the  departure  of  his  master,  had  been 
taken  in  charge  by  Ricciardetto,  and  sent  back  to  Paris, 
where  Astolpho  was  in  command,  in  the  absence  of 
Charlemagne.  Astolpho  received  with  great  indignation 
the  message  despatched  for  Bayard,  and  replied  by  a 


674  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

herald  that  "he  would  not  surrender  the  horse  of  his 
kinsman  Rinaldo  without  a  contest.  If  Gradasso  wanted 
the  steed  he  might  come  and  take  him,  and  that  he, 
Astolpho,  was  ready  to  meet  him  in  the  field." 

Gradasso  was  only  amused  at  this  answer,  for  As- 
tolpho's  fame  as  a  successful  warrior  was  not  high,  and 
Gradasso  willingly  renewed  with  him  the  bargain  which 
he  had  made  with  Rinaldo.  On  these  conditions  the 
battle  was  fought.  The  enchanted  lance,  in  the  hands 
of  Astolpho,  performed  a  new  wonder;  and  Gradasso, 
the  terrible  Gradasso,  was  unhorsed. 

He  kept  his  word,  set  free  his  prisoners,  and  put  his 
army  on  the  march  to  return  to  his  own  country,  re- 
newing his  oath,  however,  not  to  rest  till  he  had  taken 
from  Rinaldo  his  horse,  and  from  Orlando  his  sword, 
or  lost  his  life  in  the  attempt. 

Charlemagne,  full  of  gratitude  to  Astolpho,  would 
have  kept  him  near  his  person  and  loaded  him  with 
honors,  but  Astolpho  preferred  to  seek  Rinaldo,  with 
the  view  of  restoring  to  him  his  horse,  and  departed 
from  Paris  with  that  design. 


Our  story  now  returns  to  Orlando,  whom  we  left 
fascinated  with  the  sight  of  the  sleeping  beauty,  who, 
however,  escaped  him  while  engaged  in  the  combat  with 
Ferrau.  Having  long  sought  her  in  vain  through  the 
recesses  of  the  wood,  he  resolved  to  follow  her  to  her 
father's  court.  Leaving,  therefore,  the  camp  of  Charle- 
magne, he  travelled  long  in  the  direction  of  the  East, 
making  inquiry  everywhere,  if,  perchance,  he  might  get 
tidings  of  the  fugitive.  After  many  adventures,  he  ar- 
rived one  day  at  a  place  where  many  roads  crossed,  and 
meeting  there  a  courier,  he  asked  him  for  news.  The 
courier  replied  that  he  had  been  despatched  by  Angelica 
to  solicit  the  aid  of  Sacripant,  king  of  Circassia,  in  favor 
of  her  father  Galafron,  who  was  besieged  in  his  city, 
Albracca,  by  Agrican,  king  of  Tartary.  This  Agrican 
had  been  an  unsuccessful  suitor  to  the  damsel,  whom  he 
now  pursued  with  arms.  Orlando  thus  learned  that  he 
was  within  a  day's  journey  of  Albracca;  and,  feeling 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA  675 

now  secure  of  Angelica,  he  proceeded  with  all   speed 
to  her  city. 

Thus  journeying  he  arrived  at  a  bridge,  under  which 
flowed  a  foaming  river.  Here  a  damsel  met  him  with  a 
goblet,  and  informed  him  that  it  was  the  usage  of  this 
bridge  to  present  the  traveller  with  a  cup.  Orlando  ac- 
cepted the  offered  cup  and  drank  its  contents.  He  had 
no  sooner  done  so  than  his  brain  reeled,  and  he  became 
unconscious  of  the  object  of  his  journey,  and  of  every- 
thing else.  Under  the  influence  of  this  fascination  he 
followed  the  damsel  into  a  magnificent  and  marvellous 
palace.  Here  he  found  himself  in  company  with  many 
knights,  unknown  to  him  and  to  each  other,  though  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  Cup  of  Oblivion  of  which  they 
all  had  partaken  they  would  have  found  themselves 
brothers  in  arms. 


Astolpho,  proceeding  on  his  way  to  seek  Rinaldo, 
splendidly  dressed  and  equipped,  as  was  his  wont,  ar- 
rived in  Circassia,  and  found  there  a  great  army  en- 
camped under  the  command  of  Sacripant,  the  king  of 
that  country,  who  was  leading  it  to  the  defence  of  Gala- 
fron,  the  father  of  Angelica.  Sacripant,  much  struck 
by  the  appearance  of  Astolpho  and  his  horse,  accosted 
him  courteously,  and  tried  to  enlist  him  in  his  service; 
but  Astolpho,  proud  of  his  late  victories,  scornfully 
declined  his  offers,  and  pursued  his  way.  King  Sacri- 
pant was  too  much  attracted  by  his  appearance  to  part 
with  him  so  easily,  and  having  laid  aside  his  kingly  or- 
naments, set  out  in  pursuit  of  him. 

Astolpho  next  day  encountered  on  his  way  a  stranger 
knight,  named  Sir  Florismart,  Lord  of  the  Sylvan 
Tower,  one  of  the  bravest  and  best  of  knights,  having 
as  his  guide  a  damsel,  young,  fair,  and  virtuous,  to  whom 
he  was  tenderly  attached,  whose  name  was  JHordelis. 
Astolpho,  as  he  approached,  defied  the  knight,  bidding 
him  yield  the  lady,  or  prepare  to  maintain  his  right  by 
arms.  Florismart  accepted  the  contest,  and  the  knights 
encountered.  Florismart  was  unhorsed  and  his  steed 
fell  dead,  while  Bayard  sustained  no  injury  by  the  shock. 


676  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Florismart  was  so  overwhelmed  with  despair  at  his 
own  disgrace  and  the  sight  of  the  damsel's  distress, 
that  he  drew  his  sword,  and  was  about  to  plunge  it  into 
his  own  bosom.  But  Astolpho  held  his  hand,  told  him 
that  he  contended  only  for  glory,  and  was  contented  to 
leave  him  the  lady. 

While  Florismart  and  Flordelis  were  vowing  eternal 
gratitude  King  Sacripant  arrived,  and  coveting  the  dam- 
sel of  the  one  champion  as  much  as  the  horse  and  arms 
of  the  other,  defied  them  to  the  joust.  Astolpho  met 
the  challenger,  whom  he  instantly  overthrew,  and  pre- 
sented his  courser  to  Florismart,  leaving  the  king  to  re- 
turn to  his  army  on  foot. 

The  friends  pursued  their  route,  and  ere  long  Flor- 
delis discovered,  by  signs  which  were  known  to  her,  that 
they  were  approaching  the  waters  of  Oblivion,  and  ad- 
vised them  to  turn  back,  or  to  change  their  course.  This 
the  knights  would  not  hear  of,  and,  continuing  their 
march,  they  soon  arrived  at  the  bridge  where  Orlando 
had  been  taken  prisoner. 

The  damsel  of  the  bridge  appeared  as  before  with 
the  enchanted  cup,  but  Astolpho,  forewarned,  rejected 
it  with  scorn.  She  dashed  it  to  the  ground,  and  a  fire 
blazed  up  which  rendered  the  bridge  unapproachable. 
At  the  same  moment  the  two  knights  were  assailed  by 
sundry  warriors,  known  and  unknown,  who,  having  no 
recollection  of  anything,  joined  blindly  in  defence  of 
their  prison-house.  Among  these  was  Orlando,  at  sight 
of  whom  Astolpho,  with  all  his  confidence  not  daring  to 
encounter  him,  turned  and  fled,  owing  his  escape  to  the 
strength  and  fleetness  of  Bayard. 

Florismart,  meanwhile,  overlaid  by  fearful  odds,  was 
compelled  to  yield  to  necessity,  and  comply  with  the 
usage  of  the  fairy.  He  drank  of  the  cup  and  remained 
prisoner  with  the  rest.  Flordelis,  deprived  of  her  two 
friends,  retired  from  the  scene,  and  devoted  herself  to 
untiring  efforts  to  effect  her  lover's  deliverance.  Astol- 
pho pursued  his  way  to  Albracca,  which  Agrican  was 
about  to  besiege.  He  was  kindly  welcomed  by  Angelica, 
and  enrolled  among  her  defenders.  Impatient  to  dis- 
tinguish himself,  he  one  night  sallied  forth  alone,  arrived 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA  677 

in  Agrican's  camp,  and  unhorsed  his  warriors  right  and 
left  by  means  of  the  enchanted  lance.  But  he  was  soon 
surrounded  and  overmatched,  and  made  prisoner  to 
Agrican. 

Relief  was,  however,  at  hand;  for  as  the  citizens  and 
soldiers  were  one  day  leaning  over  their  walls  they  de- 
scried a  cloud  of  dust,  from  which  horsemen  were  seen 
to  prick  forth,  as  it  rolled  on  towards  the  camp  of  the 
besiegers.  This  turned  out  to  be  the  army  of  Sacripam, 
which  immediately  attacked  that  of  Agrican,  with  the 
view  of  cutting  a  passage  through  his  camp  to  the  be- 
sieged city.  But  Agrican,  mounted  upon  Bayard,  taken 
from  Astolpho,  but  not  armed  with  the  lance  of  gold, 
the  virtues  of  which  were  unknown  to  him,  performed 
wonders,  and  rallied  his  scattered  troops,  which  had 
given  way  to  the  sudden  and  unexpected  assault.  Sac- 
ripant,  on  the  other  hand,  encouraged  his  men  by  the 
most  desperate  acts  of  valor,  having  as  an  additional  in- 
centive to  his  courage  the  sight  of  Angelica,  who  showed 
herself  upon  the  city  walls. 

There  she  witnessed  a  single  combat  between  the  two 
leaders,  Agrican  and  Sacripant.  In  this,  at  length,  her 
defender  appeared  to  be  overmatched,  when  the  Cir- 
cassians broke  the  ring,  and  separated  the  combatants, 
who  were  borne  asunder  in  the  rush.  Sacripant,  se- 
verely wounded,  profited  by  the  confusion,  and  escaped 
into  Albracca,  where  he  was  kindly  received  and  care- 
fully tended  by  Angelica. 

The  battle  continuing,  the  Circassians  were  at  last  put 
to  flight,  and,  being  intercepted  between  the  enemy's 
lines  and  the  town,  sought  for  refuge  under  the  walls. 
Angelica  ordered  the  drawbridge  to  be  let  down,  and 
the  gates  thrown  open  to  the  fugitives.  With  these 
Agrican,  not  distinguished  in  the  crowd,  entered  the 
place,  driving  both  Circassians  and  Cathayans  before 
him,  and  the  portcullis  being  dropped,  he  was  shut  in. 

For  a  time  the  terror  which  he  inspired  put  to  flight 
all  opposers,  but  when  at  last  it  came  to  be  known  that 
few  or  none  of  his  followers  had  effected  an  entrance 
with  him,  the  fugitives  rallied  and  surrounded  him  on 
all  sides.  While  he  was  thus  apparently  reduced  to 


678  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

the  last  extremities,  he  was  saved  by  the  very  circum- 
stance which  threatened  him  with  destruction.  The  sol- 
diers of  Angelica,  closing  upon  him  from  all  sides,  de- 
serted their  defences ;  and  his  own  besieging  army  en- 
tered the  city  in  a  part  where  the  wall  was  broken 
down. 

In  this  way  was  Agrican  rescued,  the  city  taken,  and 
the  inhabitants  put  to  the  sword.  Angelica,  however, 
with  some  of  the  knights  who  were  her  defenders, 
among  whom  was  Sacripant,  saved  herself  in  the  cita- 
del, which  was  planted  upon  a  rock. 

The  fortress  was  impregnable,  but  it  was  scantily  vic- 
tualled, and  ill  provided  with  other  necessaries.  Under 
these  circumstances  Angelica  announced  to  those  block- 
aded with  her  in  the  citadel  her  intention  to  go  in  quest 
of  assistance,  and,  having  plighted  her  promise  of  a 
speedy  return,  she  set  out,  with  the  enchanted  ring  upon 
her  ringer.  Mounted  upon  her  palfrey,  the  damsel 
passed  through  the  enemy's  lines,  and  by  sunrise  was 
many  miles  clear  of  their  encampment. 

It  so  happened  that  her  road  led  her  near  the  fatal 
bridge  of  Oblivion,  and  as  she  approached  it  she  met  a 
damsel  weeping  bitterly.  It  was  Flordelis,  whose  lover, 
Florismart,  as  we  have  related,  had  met  the  fate  of  Or- 
lando and  many  more,  and  fallen  a  victim  to  the  en- 
chantress of  the  cup.  She  related  her  adventures  to 
Angelica,  and  conjured  her  to  lend  what  aid  she  might 
to  rescue  her  lord  and  his  companions.  Angelica,  ac- 
cordingly, watching  her  opportunity  and  aided  by  her 
ring,  slipped  into  the  castle  unseen,  when  the  door  was 
opened  to  admit  a  new  victim.  Here  she  speedily  dis- 
enchanted Orlando  and  the  rest  by  a  touch  of  her 
talisman.  But  Florismart  was  not  there.  He  had  been 
given  up  to  Falerina,  a  more  powerful  enchantress,  and 
was  still  in  durance.  Angelica  conjured  the  rescued 
captives  to  assist  her  in  the  recovery  of  her  kingdom, 
and  all  departed  together  for  Albracca. 

The  arrival  of  Orlando,  with  his  companions,  nine  in 
all,  and  among  the  bravest  knights  of  France,  changed 
at  once  the  fortunes  of  the  war.  Wherever  the  great 
paladin  came,  pennon  and  standard  fell  before  him. 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA  679 

Agrican  in  vain  attempted  to  rally  his  troops.  Orlando 
kept  constantly  in  his  front,  forcing  him  to  attend  to 
nobody  else.  The  Tartar  king  at  length  bethought  him 
of  a  stratagem.  He  turned  his  horse,  and  made  a  show 
of  flying  in  despair.  Orlando  dashed  after  him  as  he 
desired,  and  Agrican  fled  till  he  reached  a  green  place 
in  a  wood,  where  there  was  a  fountain. 

The  place  was  beautiful,  and  the  Tartar  dismounted 
to  refresh  himself  at  the  fountain,  but  without  taking 
off  his  helmet,  or  laying  aside  any  of  his  armor.  Or- 
lando was  quickly  at  his  back,  crying  out,  "So  bold, 
and  yet  a  fugitive!  How  could  you  fly  from  a  single 
arm  and  think  to  escape?" 

The  Tartar  king  had  leaped  on  his  saddle  the  mo- 
ment he  saw  his  enemy,  and  when  the  paladin  had  done 
speaking,  he  said  in  a  mild  voice,  "Without  doubt  you 
are  the  best  knight  I  ever  encountered,  and  fain  would 
1  leave  you  untouched  for  your  own  sake,  if  you  would 
cease  to  hinder  me  from  rallying  my  people.  I  pre- 
tended to  fly,  in  order  to  bring  you  out  of  the  field. 
If  you  insist  upon  fighting  I  must  needs  fight  and  slay 
you,  but  I  call  the  sun  in  the  heavens  to  witness  I  would 
rather  not.  I  should  be  very  sorry  for  your  death." 

The  Count  Orlando  felt  pity  for  so  much  gallantry, 
and  he  said,  "The  nobler  you  show  yourself  the  more 
it  grieves  me  to  think  that  in  dying  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  true  faith  you  will  be  lost  in  the  other  world. 
Let  me  advise  you  to  save  body  and  soul  at  once.  Re- 
ceive baptism,  and  go  your  way  in  peace." 

Agrican  replied:  "I  suspect  you  to  be  the  paladin  Or- 
lando. If  you  are  I  would  not  lose  this  opportunity  of 
fighting  with  you  to  be  king  of  Paradise.  Talk  to  me 
no  more  about  your  things  of  another  world,  for  you 
will  preach  in  vain.  Each  of  us  for  himself,  and  let  the 
sword  be  umpire." 

The  Saracen  drew  his  sword,  boldly  advancing  upon 
Orlando,  and  a  combat  began,  so  obstinate  and  so  long, 
each  warrior  being  a  miracle  of  prowess,  that  the  story 
says  it  lasted  from  noon  till  night.  Orlando  then  see- 
ing the  stars  come  out  was  the  first  to  propose  a  re- 
spite. 


680  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"What  are  we  to  do,"  said  he,  "now  that  daylight 
has  left  us  ?" 

Agrican  answered  readily  enough,  "Let  us  repose  in 
this  meadow,  and  renew  the  combat  at  dawn." 

The  repose  was  taken  accordingly.  Each  tied  up  his 
horse,  and  reclined  himself  on  the  grass,  not  far  from 
the  other,  just  as  if  they  had  been  friends,  Orlando  by 
the  fountain,  Agrican  beneath  a  pine.  It  was  a  beau- 
tiful clear  night,  and,  as  they  talked  together  before 
addressing  themselves  to  sleep,  the  champion  of  Chris- 
tendom, looking  up  at  the  firmament,  said,  "That  is  a 
fine  piece  of  workmanship,  that  starry  spectacle;  God 
made  it  all,  that  moon  of  silver,  and  those  stars  of  gold, 
and  the  light  of  day,  and  the  sun, — all  for  the  sake  of 
human  kind." 

"You  wish,  I  see,  to  talk  of  matters  of  faith,"  said 
the  Tartar.  "Now  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that 
I  have  no  sort  of  skill  in  such  matters,  nor  learning  of 
any  kind.  I  never  could  learn  anything  when  I  was  a 
boy.  I  hated  it  so  that  I  broke  the  man's  head  who 
was  commissioned  to  teach  me ;  and  it  produced  such 
an  effect  on  others  that  nobody  ever  afterwards  dared 
so  much  as  show  me  a  book.  My  boyhood  was  therefore 
passed,  as  it  should  be,  in  horsemanship  and  hunting, 
and  learning  to  fight.  What  is  the  good  of  a  gentle- 
man's poring  all  day  over  a  book?  Prowess  to  the 
knight,  and  preaching  to  the  clergyman,  that  is  my 
motto." 

"I  acknowledge,"  returned  Orlando,  "that  arms  are 
the  first  consideration  of  a  gentleman;  but  not  at  all 
that  he  does  himself  dishonor  by  knowledge.  On  the 
contrary,  knowledge  is  as  great  an  embellishment  of 
the  rest  of  his  attainments,  as  the  flowers  are  to  the 
meadow  before  us;  and  as  to  the  knowledge  of  his 
Maker,  the  man  that  is  without  it  is  no  better  than  a 
stock  or  a  stone  or  a  brute  beast.  Neither  without  study 
can  he  reach  anything  of  a  due  sense  of  the  depth  and 
divineness  of  the  contemplation." 

"Learned  or  not  learned,"  said  Agrican,  "you  might 
show  yourself  better  bred  than  by  endeavoring  to  make 
me  talk  on  a  subject  on  which  you  have  me  at  a  dis- 


THE  SIEGE  OF  ALBRACCA  681 

advantage.  If  you  choose  to  sleep  I  wish  you  good 
night;  but  if  you  prefer  talking  I  recommend  you  to 
talk  of  fighting  or  of  fair  ladies.  And,  by  the  way, 
pray  tell  me,  are  you  not  that  Orlando  who  makes  such 
a  noise  in  the  world?  And  what  is  it,  pray,  that  brings 
you  into  these  parts?  Were  you  ever  in  love?  I  sup- 
pose you  must  have  been ;  for  to  be  a  knight,  and  never 
to  have  been  in  love,  would  be  like  being  a  man  without 
a  heart  in  his  breast." 

The  count  replied :  "Orlando  I  am,  and  in  love  I  am. 
Love  has  made  me  abandon  everything,  and  brought 
me  into  these  distant  regions,  and,  to  tell  you  all  in  one 
word,  my  heart  is  in  the  hands  of  the  daughter  of  King 
Galafron.  You  have  come  against  him  with  fire  and 
sword,  to  get  possession  of  his  castles  and  his  domin- 
ions; and  I  have  come  to  help  him,  for  no  object  in  the 
world  but  to  please  his  daughter  and  win  her  beautiful 
hand.  I  care  for  nothing  else  in  existence." 

Now  when  the  Tartar  king,  Agrican,  heard  his  antag- 
onist speak  in  this  manner,  and  knew  him  to  be  indeed 
Orlando,  and  to  be  in  love  with  Angelica,  his  face 
changed  color  for  grief  and  jealousy,  though  it  could 
not  be  seen  for  the  darkness.  His  heart  began  beating 
with  such  violence  that  he  felt  as  if  he  should  have 
died.  "Well,"  said  he  to  Orlando,  "we  are  to  fight  when 
it  is  daylight,  and  one  or  other  is  to  be  left  here,  dead 
on  the  ground.  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  to  you — 
nay,  an  entreaty.  My  love  is  so  excessive  for  the  same 
lady  that  I  beg  you  to  leave  her  to  me.  I  will  owe  you 
my  thanks,  and  give  up  the  siege  and  put  an  end  to  the 
war.  I  cannot  bear  that  any  one  should  love  her,  and 
that  I  should  live  to  see  it.  Why,  therefore,  should 
either  of  us  perish?  Give  her  up.  Not  a  soul  shall 
know  it." 

"I  never  yet,"  answered  Orlando,  "made  a  promise 
which  I  did  not  keep,  and  nevertheless  I  own  to  you 
that,  were  I  to  make  a  promise  like  that,  and  even  swear 
to  keep  it,  I  should  not.  You  might  as  well  ask  me 
to  tear  away  the  limbs  from  my  body,  and  the  eyes  out 
of  my  head.  I  could  as  well  live  without  breath  itself  as 
cease  loving  Angelica." 


682  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Agrican  had  hardly  patience  to  let  him  finish  speak- 
ing, ere  he  leapt  furiously  on  horseback,  though  it  was 
midnight.  "Quit  her,"  said  he,  "or  die!" 

Orlando  seeing  the  infidel  getting  up,  and  not  being 
sure  that  he  would  not  add  treachery  to  fierceness,  had 
been  hardly  less  quick  in  mounting  for  the  combat. 
"Never,"  exclaimed  he ;  "I  never  could  have  quitted  her 
if  I  would,  and  now  1  would  not  if  I  could.  You  must 
seek  her  by  other  means  than  these." 

Fiercely  dashed  their  horses  together,  in  the  night- 
time, on  the  green  mead.  Despiteful  and  terrible  were 
the  blows  they  gave  and  took  by  the  moonlight.  Agrican 
fought  in  a  rage,  Orlando  was  cooler.  And  now  the 
struggle  had  lasted  more  than  five  hours,  and  day  began 
to  dawn,  when  the  Tartar  king,  furious  to  find  so  much 
trouble  given  him,  dealt  his  enemy  a  blow  sharp  and 
violent  beyond  conception.  It  cut  the  shield  in  two 
as  if  it  had  been  made  of  wood,  and,  though  blood  could 
not  be  drawn  from  Orlando,  because  he  was  fated,  it 
shook  and  bruised  him  as  if  it  had  started  every  joint 
in  his  body. 

His  body  only,  however,  not  a  particle  of  his  soul.  So 
dreadful  was  the  blow  which  the  paladin  gave  in  re- 
turn, that  not  only  shield,  but  every  bit  of  mail  on 
the  body  of  Agrican  was  broken  in  pieces,  and  three 
of  his  ribs  cut  asunder. 

The  Tartar,  roaring  like  a  lion,  raised  his  sword  with 
still  greater  vehemence  than  before,  and  dealt  a  blow 
on  the  paladin's  helmet,  such  as  he  had  never  yet  re- 
ceived from  mortal  man.  For  a  moment  it  took  away  his 
senses.  His  sight  failed,  his  ears  tingled,  his  fright- 
ened horse  turned  about  to  fly;  and  he  was  falling  from 
the  saddle,  when  the  very  action  of  falling  threw  his 
head  upwards,  and  thus  recalled  his  recollection. 

"What  a  shame  is  this!"  thought  he;  "how  shall  I 
ever  again  dare  to  face  Angelica!  I  have  been  fight- 
ing hour  after  hour  with  this  man,  and  he  is  but  one, 
and  I  call  myself  Orlando!  If  the  combat  last  any 
longer  I  will  bury  myself  in  a  monastery,  and  never  look 
on  sword  again." 

Orlando  muttered  with  his  lips  closed  and  his  teeth 


RINALDO  AND  ORLANDO  684 

ground  together;  and  you  might  have  thought  that  fire 
instead  of  breath  came  out  of  his  nose  and  mouth.  He 
raised  his  sword  Durindana  with  both  his  hands,  and 
sent  it  down  so  tremendously  on  Agrican's  shoulder  that 
it  cut  through  breastplate  down  to  the  very  haunch,  nay, 
crushed  the  saddle-bow,  though  it  was  made  of  bone 
and  iron,  and  felled  man  and  horse  to  the  earth.  Agri- 
can  turned  as  white  as  ashes,  and  felt  death  upon  him. 
He  called  Orlando  to  come  close  to  him,  with  a  gentle 
voice,  and  said,  as  well  as  he  could:  "I  believe  on  Him 
who  died  on  the  cross.  Baptize  me,  I  pray  thee,  with 
the  fountain,  before  my  senses  are  gone.  I  have  lived 
an  evil  lif>\  but  need  not  be  rebellious  to  God  in  death 
also.  May  He  who  came  to  save  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  save  me !"  And  he  shed  tears,  that  great  king, 
though  he  had  been  so  lofty  and  fierce. 

Orlando  dismounted  quickly,  with  his  own  face  in 
tears.  He  gathered  the  king  tenderly  in  his  arms,  and 
took  and  laid  him  by  the  fountain,  on  a  marble  rim  that 
it  had,  and  then  he  wept  in  concert  with  him  heartily, 
and  asked  his  pardon,  and  so  baptized  him  in  the  water 
of  the  fountain,  and  knelt  and  prayed  to  God  for  him 
with  joined  hands. 

He  then  paused  and  looked  at  him ;  and  when  he 
perceived  his  countenance  changed,  and  that  his  whole 
person  was  cold,  he  left  him  there  on  the  marble  rim 
of  the  fountain,  all  armed  as  he  was,  with  the  sword 
by  his  side,  and  the  crown  upon  his  head. 


ADVENTURES   OF   RINALDO   AND   ORLANDO 

WE  left  Rinaldo  when,  having  overcome  the  monster, 
he  quitted  the  castle  of  Altaripa,  and  pursued  his  way 
on  foot.  He  soon  met  with  a  weeping  damsel,  who, 
being  questioned  as  to  the  cause  of  her  sorrow,  told 
him  she  was  in  search  of  one  to  do  battle  to  rescue  her 
lover,  who  had  been  made  prisoner  by  a  vile  enchantress, 
together  with  Orlando  and  many  more.  The  damsel 
was  Flordelis,  the  lady-love  of  Florismart,  and  Rinaldo 


684  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

promised  his  assistance,  trusting  to  accomplish  the  ad- 
venture either  by  valor  or  skill.  Flordelis  insisted  upon 
Rinaldo's  taking  her  horse,  which  he  consented  to  do,  on 
condition  of  her  mounting  behind  him. 

As  they  rode  on  through  a  wood,  they  heard  strange 
noises,  and  Rinaldo,  reassuring  the  damsel,  pressed  for- 
ward towards  the  quarter  from  which  they  proceeded. 
He  soon  perceived  a  giant  standing  under  a  vaulted  cav- 
ern, with  a  huge  club  in  his  hand,  and  of  an  appearance 
to  strike  the  boldest  spirit  with  dread.  By  the  side  of 
the  cavern  was  chained  a  griffin,  which,  together  with 
the  giant,  was  stationed  there  to  guard  a  wonderful 
horse,  the  same  which  was  once  Argalia's.  This  horse 
was  a  creature  of  enchantment,  matchless  in  vigor, 
speed,  and  form,  which  disdained  to  share  the  diet  of 
his  fellow-steeds, — corn  or  grass, — and  fed  only  on  air. 
His  name  was  Rabican. 

This  marvellous  horse,  after  his  master  Argalia  had 
been  slain  by  Ferrau,  finding  himself  at  liberty,  returned 
to  his  native  cavern,  and  was  here  stabled  under  the 
protection  of  the  giant  and  the  griffin.  As  Rinaldo  ap- 
proached, the  giant  assailed  him  with  his  club.  Rinaldo 
defended  himself  from  the  giant's  blows,  and  gave  him 
one  in  return,  which,  if  his  skin  had  not  been  of  the 
toughest,  would  have  finished  the  combat.  But  the  giant, 
though  wounded,  escaped,  and  let  loose  the  griffin.  This 
monstrous  bird  towered  in  air,  and  thence  pounced  down 
upon  Rinaldo,  who,  watching  his  opportunity,  dealt  her 
a  desperate  wound.  She  had,  however,  strength  for 
another  flight,  and  kept  repeating  her  attacks,  which 
Rinaldo  parried  as  he  could,  while  the  damsel  stood 
trembling  by,  witnessing  the  contest. 

The  battle  continued,  rendered  more  terrible  by  the 
approach  of  night,  when  Rinaldo  determined  upon  a  des- 
perate expedient  to  bring  it  to  a  conclusion.  He  fell, 
as  if  fainting  from  his  wounds,  and,  on  the  close  ap- 
proach of  the  griffin,  dealt  her  a  blow  which  sheared 
away  one  of  her  wings.  The  beast,  though  sinking, 
griped  him  fast  with  her  talons,  digging  through  plate 
and  mail ;  but  Rinaldo  plied  his  sword  in  utter  despera- 
tion, and  at  last  accomplished  her  destruction. 


RINALDO  AND  ORLANDO  685 

Rinaldo  then  entered  the  cavern,  and  found  there  the 
wonderful  horse,  all  caparisoned.  He  was  coal-black, 
except  for  a  star  of  white  on  his  forehead,  and  one 
white  foot  behind.  For  speed  he  was  unrivalled,  though 
in  strength  he  yielded  to  Bayard.  Rinaldo  mounted 
upon  Rabican,  and  issued  from  the  cavern. 

As  he  pursued  his  way  he  met  a  fugitive  from  Agri- 
can's  army,  who  gave  such  an  account  of  the  prowess 
of  a  champion  who  fought  on  the  side  of  Angelica,  that 
Rinaldo  was  persuaded  this  must  be  Orlando,  though 
at  a  loss  to  imagine  how  he  could  have  been  freed  from 
captivity.  He  determined  to  repair  to  the  scene  of  the 
contest  to  satisfy  his  curiosity,  and  Flordelis,  hoping  to 
find  Flor! smart  with  Orlando,  consented  to  accompany 
him. 

While  these  things  were  doing,  all  was  rout  and  dis- 
may in  the  Tartarian  army,  from  the  death  of  Agrican. 
King  Galafron,  arriving  at  this  juncture  with  an  army 
for  the  relief  of  his  capital,  Albracca,  assaulted  the  ene- 
my's camp,  and  carried  all  before  him.  Rinaldo  had 
now  reached  the  scene  of  action,  and  was  looking  on  as 
an  unconcerned  spectator,  when  he  was  espied  by  Gala- 
fron. The  king  instantly  recognized  the  horse  Rabican, 
which  he  had  given  to  Argalia  when  he  sent  him  forth 
on  his  ill-omened  mission  to  Paris.  Possessed  with  the 
idea  that  the  rider  of  the  horse  was  the  murderer  of 
Argalia,  Galafron  rode  at  Rinaldo,  and  smote  him  with 
all  his  force.  Rinaldo  was  not  slow  to  avenge  the  blow, 
and  it  would  have  gone  hard  with  the  king  had  not  his 
followers  instantly  closed  round  him  and  separated  the 
combatants. 

Rinaldo  thus  found  himself,  almost  without  his  own 
choice,  enlisted  on  the  side  of  the  enemies  of  Angelica, 
which  gave  him  no  concern,  so  completely  had  his 
draught  from  the  fountain  of  hate  steeled  his  mind 
against  her. 

For  several  successive  days  the  struggle  continued, 
without  any  important  results,  Rinaldo  meeting  the  brav- 
est knights  of  Angelica's  party,  and  defeating  them  one 
after  the  other.  At  length  he  encountered  Orlando,  and 
the  two  knights  bitterly  reproached  one  another  for 


686  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

the  cause  they  had  each  adopted,  and  engaged  in  a  fu- 
rious combat.  Orlando  was  mounted  upon  Bayard,  Ri- 
naldo's  horse,  which  Agrican  had  by  chance  become  pos- 
sessed of,  and  Orlando  had  taken  from  him  as  the 
prize  of  victory.  Bayard  would  not  fight  against  his 
master,  and  Orlando  was  getting  the  worse  of  the  en- 
counter, when  suddenly  Rinaldo,  seeing  Astolpho,  who 
for  love  of  him  had  arrayed  himself  on  his  side,  hard 
beset  by  numbers,  left  Orlando  to  rush  to  the  defence 
of  his  friend.  Night  prevented  the  combat  from  being 
renewed;  but  a  challenge  was  given  and  accepted  for 
their  next  meeting. 

But  Angelica,  sighing  in  her  heart  for  Rinaldo,  was 
not  willing  that  he  should  be  again  exposed  to  so  ter- 
rible a  venture.  She  begged  a  boon  of  Orlando,  prom- 
ising she  would  be  his  if  he  would  do  her  bidding.  On 
receiving  his  promise,  she  enjoined  him  to  set  out  with- 
out delay  to  destroy  the  garden  of  the  enchantress 
Falerina,  in  which  many  valiant  knights  had  been  en- 
trapped, and  were  imprisoned. 

Orlando  departed  on  his  horse  Brigliadoro,  leaving 
Bayard  in  disgrace  for  his  bad  deportment  the  day  be- 
fore. Angelica,  to  conciliate  Rinaldo,  sent  Bayard  to 
him;  but  Rinaldo  remained  unmoved  by  this  as  by  all 
her  former  acts  of  kindness. 

When  Rinaldo  learned  Orlando's  departure,  he  yield- 
ed to  the  entreaties  of  the  lady  of  Florismart,  and  pre- 
pared to  fulfil  his  promise,  and  rescue  her  lover  from 
the  power  of  the  enchantress.  Thus  both  Rinaldo  and 
Orlando  were  bound  upon  the  same  adventure,  but  un- 
known to  one  another. 

The  castle  of  Falerina  was  protected  by  a  river,  which 
was  crossed  by  a  bridge,  kept  by  a  ruffian,  who  chal- 
lenged all  comers  to  the  combat;  and  such  was  his 
strength  that  he  had  thus  far  prevailed  in  every  en- 
counter, as  appeared  by  the  arms  of  various  knights 
which  he  had  taken  from  them,  and  piled  up  as  a  trophy 
on  the  shore.  Rinaldo  attacked  him,  but  with  as  bad 
success  as  the  rest,  for  the  bridge-ward  struck  him  so 
violent  a  blow  with  an  iron  mace  that  he  fell  to  the 
ground.  But  when  the  villain  approached  to  strip  him 


RINALDO  AND  ORLANDO  687 

of  his  armor,  Rinaldo  seized  him,  and  the  bridge-ward, 
being  unable  to  free  himself,  leapt  with  Rinaldo  into  the 
lake,  where  they  both  disappeared. 

Orlando,  meanwhile,  in  discharge  of  his  promise  to 
Angelica,  pursued  his  way  in  quest  of  the  same  adven- 
ture. In  passing  through  a  wood  he  saw  a  cavalier 
armed  at  all  points,  and  mounted,  keeping  guard  over 
a  lady  who  was  bound  to  a  tree,  weeping  bitterly.  Or- 
lando hastened  to  her  relief,  but  was  exhorted  by  the 
knight  not  to  interfere,  for  she  had  deserved  her  fate 
by  her  wickedness.  In  proof  of  which  he  made  certain 
charges  against  her.  The  lady  denied  them  all,  and  Or- 
lando believed  her,  defied  the  knight,  overthrew  him, 
and,  releasing  the  lady,  departed  with  her  seated  on  his 
horse's  croup. 

While  they  rode  another  damsel  approached  on  a 
white  palfrey,  who  warned  Orlando  of  impending  dan- 
ger, and  informed  him  that  he  was  near  the  garden  of 
the  enchantress.  Orlando  was  delighted  with  the  intel- 
ligence, and  entreated  her  to  inform  him  how  he  was 
to  gain  admittance.  She  replied  that  the  garden  could 
only  be  entered  at  sunrise  and  gave  him  such  instruc- 
tions as  would  enable  him  to  gain  admittance.  She  gave 
him  also  a  book  in  which  was  painted  the  garden  and 
all  that  it  contained,  together  with  the  palace  of  the 
false  enchantress,  where  she  had  secluded  herself  for 
the  purpose  of  executing  a  magic  work  in  which  she 
was  engaged.  This  was  the  manufacture  of  a  sword 
capable  of  cutting  even  through  enchanted  substances. 
The  object  of  this  labor,  the  damsel  told  him,  was  the 
destruction  of  a  knight  of  the  west,  by  name  Orlando, 
who  she  had  read  in  the  book  of  Fate  was  coming  to 
demolish  her  garden.  Having  thus  instructed  him,  the 
damsel  departed. 

Orlando,  finding  he  must  delay  his  enterprise  till  the 
next  morning,  now  lay  down  and  was  soon  asleep.  See- 
ing this,  the  base  woman  whom  he  had  rescued,  and 
who  was  intent  on  making  her  escape  to  rejoin  her 
paramour,  mounted  Brigliadoro,  and  rode  off,  carrying 
away  Durindana. 

When  Orlando  awoke,  his  indignation,  as  may  be  sup- 


688  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

posed,  was  great  on  the  discovery  of  the  theft;  bui,  like 
a  good  knight  and  true,  he  was  not  to  be  diverted  from 
his  enterprise.  He  tore  off  a  huge  branch  of  an  elm 
to  supply  the  place  of  his  sword;  and,  as  the  sun  rose, 
took  his  way  towards  the  gate  of  the  garden,  where  a 
dragon  was  on  his  watch.  This  he  slew  by  repeated 
blows,  and  entered  the  garden,  the  gate  of  which  closed 
behind  him,  barring  retreat.  Looking  round  him,  he 
saw  a  fair  fountain,  which  overflowed  into  a  river,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  fountain  a  figure,  on  whose  fore- 
head was  written: 

"The  stream  which  waters  violet  and  rose, 
From  hence  to  the  enchanted  palace  goes." 

Following  the  banks  of  this  flowing  stream,  and  rapt 
in  the  delights  of  the  charming  garden,  Orlando  arrived 
at  the  palace,  and  entering  it,  found  the  mistress,  clad 
in  white,  with  a  crown  of  gold  upon  her  head,  in  the 
act  of  viewing  herself  in  the  surface  of  the  magic  sword. 
Orlando  surprised  her  before  she  could  escape,  deprived 
her  of  the  weapon,  and  holding  her  fast  by  her  long  hair, 
which  floated  behind,  threatened  her  with  immediate 
death  if  she  did  not  yield  up  her  prisoners,  and  afford 
him  the  means  of  egress.  She,  however,  was  firm  of 
purpose,  making  no  reply,  and  Orlando,  unable  to  move 
her  either  by  threats  or  entreaties,  was  under  the  neces- 
sity of  binding  her  to  a  beech,  and  pursuing  his  quest 
as  he  best  might. 

He  then  bethought  him  of  his  book,  and,  consulting 
it,  found  that  there  was  an  outlet  to  the  south,  but  that 
to  reach  it  a  lake  was  to  be  passed,  inhabited  by  a  siren, 
whose  song  was  so  entrancing  as  to  be  quite  irresistible 
to  whoever  heard  it;  but  his  book  instructed  him  how 
to  protect  himself  against  this  danger.  According  to  its 
directions,  while  pursuing  his  patn,  he  gathered  abun- 
dance of  flowers,  which  sprung  all  around,  and  filled  his 
helmet  and  his  ears  with  them ;  then  listened  if  he  heard 
the  birds  sing.  Finding  that,  though  he  saw  the  gaping 
beak,  the  swelling  throat,  and  ruffled  plumes,  he  could 
not  catch  a  note,  he  felt  satisfied  with  his  defence,  and 


RINALDO  AND  ORLANDO  689 

advanced  toward  the  lake.  It  was  small  but  deep,  and 
so  clear  and  tranquil  that  the  eye  could  penetrate  to  the 
bottom. 

He  had  no  sooner  arrived  upon  the  banks  than  the 
waters  were  seen  to  gurgle,  and  the  siren,  rising  mid- 
way out  of  the  pool,  sung  so  sweetly  that  birds  and 
beasts  came  trooping  to  the  water-side  to  listen.  Of 
this  Orlando  heard  nothing,  but,  feigning  to  yield  to 
the  charm,  sank  down  upon  the  bank.  The  siren  issued 
from  the  water  with  the  intent  to  accomplish  his  de- 
struction. Orlando  seized  her  by  the  hair,  and  while 
she  sang  yet  louder  (song  being  her  only  defence)  cut 
off  her  head.  Then,  following  the  directions  of  the 
book,  he  stained  himself  all  over  with  her  blood. 

Guarded  by  this  talisman,  he  met  successively  all  the 
monsters  set  for  defence  of  the  enchantress  and  her 
garden,  and  at  length  found  himself  again  at  the  spot 
where  he  had  made  captive  the  enchantress,  who  still 
continued  fastened  to  the  beech.  But  the  scene  was 
changed.  The  garden  had  disappeared,  and  Falerina,  be- 
fore so  haughty,  now  begged  for  mercy,  assuring  him 
that  many  lives  depended  upon  the  preservation  of  hers. 
Orlando  promised  her  life  upon  her  pledging  herself  for 
the  deliverance  of  her  captives. 

This,  however,  was  no  easy  task.  They  were  not  in 
her  possession,  but  in  that  of  a  much  more  powerful 
enchantress,  Morgana,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  the  very 
idea  of  opposing  whom  made  Falerina  turn  pale  with 
fear.  Representing  to  him  the  hazards  of  the  enter- 
prise, she  led  him  towards  the  dwelling  of  Morgana. 
To  approach  it  he  had  to  encounter  the  same  uncour- 
teous  bridge-ward  who  had  already  defeated  and  made 
captive  so  many  knights,  and  last  of  all,  Rinaldo.  He 
was  a  churl  of  the  most  ferocious  character,  named 
Arridano.  Morgana  had  provided  him  with  impenetra- 
ble armor,  and  endowed  him  in  such  a  manner  that  his 
strength  always  increased  in  proportion  to  that  of  the 
adversary  with  whom  he  was  matched.  No  one  had 
ever  yet  escaped  from  the  contest,  since,  such  was  his 
power  of  endurance,  he  could  breathe  freely  under 
water.  Hence,  having  grappled  with  a  knight,  and  sunk 


690  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

with  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  he  returned,  bear- 
ing his  enemy's  arms  in  triumph  to  the  surface. 

While  Falerina  was  repeating  her  cautions  and  her 
counsels  Orlando  saw  Rinaldo's  arms  erected  in  form 
of  a  trophy,  among  other  spoils  made  by  the  villain,  and, 
forgetting  their  late  quarrel,  determined  upon  revenging 
his  friend.  Arriving  at  the  pass,  the  churl  presuming 
to  bar  the  way,  a  desperate  contest  ensued,  during  which 
Falerina  escaped.  The  churl  finding  himself  over- 
matched at  a  contest  of  arms,  resorted  to  his  peculiar 
art,  grappled  his  antagonist,  and  plunged  with  him  into 
the  lake.  When  he  reached  the  bottom  Orlando  found 
himself  in  another  world,  upon  a  dry  meadow,  with  the 
lake  overhead,  through  which  shone  the  beams  of  our 
sun,  while  the  water  stood  on  all  sides  like  a  crystal 
wall.  Here  the  battle  was  renewed,  and  Orlando  had 
in  his  magic  sword  an  advantage  which  none  had  hither- 
to possessed.  It  had  been  tempered  by  Falerina  so 
that  no  spells  could  avail  against  it.  Thus  armed,  and 
countervailing  the  strength  of  his  adversary  by  his  su- 
perior skill  and  activity,  it  was  not  long  before  he  laid 
him  dead  upon  the  field. 

Orlando  then  made  all  haste  to  return  to  the  upper 
air,  and,  passing  through  the  water,  which  opened  a  way 
before  him  (such  was  the  power  of  the  magic  sword), 
he  soon  regained  the  shore,  and  found  himself  in  a  field 
as  thickly  covered  with  precious  stones  as  the  sky  is 
with  stars. 

Orlando  crossed  the  field,  nor  tempted  to  delay  his 
enterprise  by  gathering  any  of  the  brilliant  gems  spread 
all  around  him.  He  next  passed  into  a  flowery  meadow 
planted  with  trees,  covered  with  fruit  and  flowers,  and 
full  of  all  imaginable  delights. 

In  the  middle  of  this  meadow  was  a  fountain,  and 
fast  by  it  lay  Morgana  asleep;  a  lady  of  a  lovely  aspect, 
dressed  in  white  and  vermilion  garments,  her  forehead 
well  furnished  with  hair,  while  she  had  scarcely  any 
behind. 

While  Orlando  stood  in  silence  contemplating  her 
beauty  he  heard  a  voice  exclaim :  "Seize  the  fairy  by 
the  forelock,  if  thou  hopest  fair  success/'  But  his  at- 


RINALDO  AND  ORLANDO  691 

tention  was  arrested  by  another  object,  and  he  heeded 
not  the  warning.  He  saw  on  a  sudden  an  array  of 
towers,  pinnacles  and  columns,  palaces  with  balconies 
and  windows,  extended  alleys  with  trees,  in  short  a 
scene  of  architectural  magnificence  surpassing  all  he  had 
ever  beheld.  While  he  stood  gazing  in  silent  astonish- 
ment the  scene  slowly  melted  away  and  disappeared.1 

When  he  had  recovered  from  his  amazement  he 
looked  again  toward  the  fountain.  The  fairy  had 
awaked  and  risen,  and  was  dancing  round  its  border 
with  the  lightness  of  a  leaf,  timing  her  footsteps  to  this 
song: 

"Who  in  this  world  would  wealth  and  treasure  share, 
Honor,  delight,  and  state,  and  what  is  best, 
Quick  let  him  catch  me  by  the  lock  of  hair 
Which  flutters  from  my  forehead;  and  be  blest. 

"But  let  him  not  the  proffered  good  forbear, 
Nor  till  he  seize  the  fleeting  blessing  rest; 
For  present  loss  is  sought  in  vain  to-morrow, 
And  the  deluded  wretch  is  left  in  sorrow." 

The  fairy,  having  sung  thus,  bounded  off,  and  fled 
from  the  flowery  meadow  over  a  high  and  inaccessible 
mountain.  Orlando  pursued  her  through  thorns  and 
rocks,  while  the  sky  gradually  became  overcast,  and  at 
last  he  was  assailed  by  tempest,  lightning,  and  hail. 

While  he  thus  pursued,  a  pale  and  meagre  woman 
issued  from  a  cave,  armed  with  a  whip,  and,  treading 
close  upon  his  steps,  scourged  him  with  vigorous  strokes. 
Her  name  was  Repentance,  and  she  told  him  it  was  her 
office  to  punish  those  who  neglected  to  obey  the  voice 
of  Prudence,  and  seize  the  fairy  Fortune  when  he  might. 

Orlando,  furious  at  this  chastisement,  turned  upon 
his  tormentor,  but  might  as  well  have  stricken  the  wind. 
Finding  it  useless  to  resist,  he  resumed  his  chase  of  the 
fairy,  gained  upon  her,  and  made  frequent  snatches  at 
her  white  and  vermilion  garments,  which  still  eluded 
his  grasp.  At  last,  on  her  turning  her  head  for  an  in- 

1  Tftis  is  a  poetical  description  of  a  phenomenon  which  is  said  to  be 
really  exhibited  in  the  strait  of  Messina,  between  Sicily  and  Calabria.  It 
is  called  Fata  Morgana,  or  Mirage. 


692  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

stant,  he  profited  by  the  chance,  and  seized  her  by  the 
forelock.  In  an  instant  the  tempest  ceased,  the  sky 
became  serene,  and  Repentance  retreated  to  her  cave. 

Orlando  now  demanded  of  Morgana  the  keys  of  her 
prison,  and  the  fairy,  feigning  a  complacent  aspect,  de- 
livered up  a  key  of  silver,  bidding  him  to  be  cautious 
in  the  use  of  it,  since  to  break  the  lock  would  be  to 
involve  himself  and  all  in  inevitable  destruction;  a  cau- 
tion which  gave  the  Count  room  for  long  meditation, 
and  led  him  to  consider 

How  few  amid  the  suitors  who  importune 

The  dame,  know  how  to  turn  the  keys  of  Fortune. 

Keeping  the  fairy  still  fast  by  the  forelock,  Orlando 
proceeded  toward  the  prison,  turned  the  key,  without 
occasioning  the  mischiefs  apprehended,  and  delivered 
the  prisoners. 

Among  these  were  Florismart,  Rinaldo,  and  many 
others  of  the  bravest  knights  of  France.  Morgana  had 
disappeared,  and  the  knights,  under  the  guidance  of 
Orlando,  retraced  the  path  by  which  he  had  come.  They 
soon  reached  the  field  of  treasure.  Rinaldo,  finding 
himself  amidst  this  mass  of  wealth,  remembered  his 
needy  garrison  of  Montalban,  and  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  seizing  part  of  the  booty.  In  particular 
a  golden  chain,  studded  with  diamonds,  was  too  much 
for  his  self-denial,  and  he  took  it  and  was  bearing  it 
off,  notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  Orlando,  when 
a  violent  wind  caught  him  and  whirled  him  back,  as  he 
approached  the  gate.  This  happened  a  second  and  a 
third  time,  and  Rinaldo  at  length  yielded  to  necessity, 
rather  than  to  the  entreaties  of  his  friends,  and  cast 
away  his  prize. 

They  soon  reached  the  bridge  and  passed  over  with- 
out hindrance  to  the  other  side,  where  they  found  the 
trophy  decorated  with  their  arms.  Here  each  knight 
resumed  his  own,  and  all,  except  the  paladins  and  their 
friends,  separated  as  their  inclinations  or  duty  prompted. 
Dudon,  the  Dane,  one  of  the  rescued  knights,  informed 
the  cousins  that  he  had  been  made  prisoner  by  Mor- 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  693 

gana  while  in  the  discharge  of  an  embassy  to  them  from 
Charlemagne,  who  called  upon  them  to  return  to  the 
defence  of  Christendom.  Orlando  was  too  much  fas- 
cinated by  Angelica  to  obey  this  summons,  and,  followed 
by  the  faithful  Florismart,  who  would  not  leave  him, 
returned  towards  Albracca.  Rinaldo,  Dudon,  Iroldo, 
Prasildo,  and  the  others  took  their  way  toward  the  west. 


THE   INVASION    OF   FRANCE 

AGRAMANT,  King  of  Africa,  convoked  the  kings,  his 
vassals,  to  deliberate  in  council.  He  reminded  them  of 
the  injuries  he  had  sustained  from  France,  that  his 
father  had  fallen  in  battle  with  Charlemagne,  and  that 
his  early  years  had  hitherto  not  allowed  him  to  wipe  out 
the  stain  of  former  defeats.  He  now  proposed  to  them 
to  carry  war  into  France. 

Sobrino,  his  wisest  councillor,  opposed  the  project, 
representing  the  rashness  of  it ;  but  Rodomont,  the  young 
and  fiery  king  of  Algiers,  denounced  Sobrino's  counsel 
as  base  and  cowardly,  declaring  himself  impatient  for 
the  enterprise.  The  king  of  the  Garamantes,  venerable 
for  his  age  and  renowned  for  his  prophetic  lore,  inter- 
posed, and  assured  the  King  that  such  an  attempt  would 
be  sure  to  fail,  unless  he  could  first  get  on  his  side  a 
youth  marked  out  by  destiny  as  the  fitting  compeer  of 
the  most  puissant  knights  of  France,  the  young  Rogero, 
descended  in  direct  line  from  Hector  of  Troy.  This 
prince  was  now  a  dweller  upon  the  mountain  Carena, 
where  Atlantes,  his  foster-father,  a  powerful  magician, 
kept  him  in  retirement,  having  discovered  by  his  art 
that  his  pupil  would  be  lost  to  him  if  allowed  to  min- 
gle with  the  world.  To  break  the  spells  of  Atlantes,  and 
draw  Rogero  from  his  retirement,  one  only  means  was 
to  be  found.  It  was  a  ring  possessed  by  Angelica,  Prin- 
cess of  Cathay,  which  was  a  talisman  against  all  enchant- 
ments. If  this  ring  could  be  procured  all  would  go 
well ;  without  it  the  enterprise  was  desperate. 

Rodomont  treated  this  declaration  of  the  old  prophet 


694  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

with  scorn,  and  it  would  probably  have  been  held  of 
little  weight  by  the  council,  had  not  the  aged  king,  op- 
pressed by  the  weight  of  years,  expired  in  the  very  act 
of  reaffirming  his  prediction.  This  made  so  deep  an 
impression  on  the  council  that  it  was  unanimously  re- 
solved to  postpone  the  war  until  an  effort  should  be 
made  to  win  Rogero  to  the  camp. 

King  Agramant  thereupon  proclaimed  that  the  sover- 
eignty of  a  kingdom  should  be  the  reward  of  whoever 
should  succeed  in  obtaining  the  ring  of  Angelica.  Bru- 
nello,  the  dwarf,  the  subtlest  thief  in  all  Africa,  under- 
took to  procure  it. 

In  prosecution  of  this  design,  he  made  the  best  of  his 
way  to  Angelica's  kingdom,  and  arrived  beneath  the 
walls  of  Albracca  while  the  besieging  army  was  en- 
camped before  the  fortress.  While  the  attention  of  the 
garrison  was  absorbed  by  the  battle  that  raged  below  he 
scaled  the  walls,  approached  the  Princess  unnoticed, 
slipped  the  ring  from  her  finger,  and  escaped  unobserved. 
He  hastened  to  the  seaside,  and,  finding  a  vessel  ready 
to  sail,  embarked,  and  arrived  at  Biserta,  in  Africa. 
Here  he  found  Agramant  impatient  for  the  talisman 
which  was  to  foil  the  enchantments  of  Atlantes  and  to 
put  Rogero  into  his  hands.  The  dwarf,  kneeling  before 
the  king,  presented  him  with  the  ring,  and  Agramant, 
delighted  at  the  success  of  his  mission,  crowned  him  in 
recompense  King  of  Tingitana. 

All  were  now  anxious  to  go  in  quest  of  Rogero.  The 
cavalcade  accordingly  departed,  and  in  due  time  arrived 
at  the  mountain  of  Carena. 

At  the  bottom  of  this  was  a  fruitful  and  well-wooded 
plain,  watered  by  a  large  river,  and  from  this  plain  was 
descried  a  beautiful  garden  on  the  mountain-top,  which 
contained  the  mansion  of  Atlantes;  but  the  ring,  which 
discovered  what  was  before  invisible,  could  not,  though 
it  revealed  this  paradise,  enable  Agramant  or  his  fol- 
lowers to  enter  it.  So  steep  and  smooth  was  the  rock 
by  nature,  that  even  Brunello  failed  in  every  attempt 
to  scale  it.  He  did  not,  for  this,  despair  of  accomplish- 
ing the  object;  but,  having  obtained  Agramant's  con- 
sent, caused  the  assembled  courtiers  and  knights  to  cele- 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  695 

a  tournament  upon  the  plain  below.  This  was 
done  with  the  view  of  seducing  Rogero  from  his  fast- 
ness, and  the  stratagem  was  attended  with  success. 

Rogero  joined  the  tourney,  and  was  presented  by 
Agramant  with  a  splendid  horse,  Frontino,  and  a  mag- 
nificent sword.  Having  learned  from  Agramant  his  in- 
tended invasion  of  France,  he  gladly  consented  to  join 
the  expedition. 

Rodomont,  meanwhile,  was  too  impatient  to  wait  for 
Agramant's  arrangements,  and  embarked  with  all  the 
forces  he  could  raise,  made  good  his  landing  on  the 
coast  of  France,  and  routed  the  Christians  in  several  en- 
counters. Previously  to  this,  however,  Gano,  or  Gane- 
lon  (as  he  is  sometimes  called),  the  traitor,  enemy  of 
Orlando  and  the  other  nephews  of  Charlemagne,  had 
entered  into  a  traitorous  correspondence  with  Marsilius, 
the  Saracen  king  of  Spain,  whom  he  invited  into  France. 
Marsilius,  thus  encouraged,  led  an  army  across  the  fron- 
tiers, and  joined  Rodomont.  This  was  the  situation  of 
things  when  Rinaldo  and  the  other  knights  who  had 
obeyed  the  summons  of  Dudon  set  forward  on  their  re- 
turn to  France. 

When  they  arrived  at  Buda  in  Hungary  they  found 
the  king  of  that  country  about  despatching  his  son, 
Ottachiero,  with  an  army  to  the  succor  of  Charlemagne. 
Delighted  with  the  arrival  of  Rinaldo,  he  placed  his  son 
and  troops  under  his  command.  In  due  time  the  army 
arrived  on  the  frontiers  of  France,  and,  united  with 
the  troops  of  Desiderius,  king  of  Lombardy,  poured 
down  into  Provence.  The  confederate  armies  had  not 
marched  many  days  through  this  gay  tract  before  they 
heard  a  crash  of  drums  and  trumpets  behind  the  hills, 
which  spoke  the  conflict  between  the  paynims,  led  by 
Podomont,  and  the  Christian  forces.  Rinaldo,  witness- 
ing from  a  mountain  the  prowess  of  Rodomont,  left  his 
troops  in  charge  of  his  friends,  and  galloped  towards  him 
with  his  lance  in  rest.  The  impulse  was  irresistible,  and 
Rodomont  was  unhorsed.  But  Rinaldo,  unwilling  to 
avail  himself  of  his  advantage,  galloped  back  to  the  hill, 
and  having  secured  Bayard  among  the  baggage,  returned 
to  finish  the  combat  on  foot. 


696  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

During  this  interval  the  battle  had  become  general, 
the  Hungarians  were  routed,  and  Rinaldo,  on  his  return, 
had  the  mortification  to  find  that  Ottachiero  was 
wounded,  and  Dudon  taken  prisoner.  While  he  sought 
Rodomont  in  order  to  renew  the  combat  a  new  sound 
of  drums  and  trumpets  was  heard,  and  Charlemagne, 
with  the  main  body  of  his  army,  was  descried  advancing 
in  battle  array. 

Rodomont,  seeing  this,  mounted  the  horse  of  Dudon, 
left  Rinaldo,  who  was  on  foot,  and  galloped  off  to 
encounter  this  new  enemy. 

Agramant,  accompanied  by  Rogero,  had  by  this  time 
made  good  his  landing,  and  joined  Rodomont  with  all 
his  forces.  Rogero  eagerly  embraced  this  first  oppor- 
tunity of  distinguishing  himself,  and  spread  terror  wher- 
ever he  went,  encountering  in  turn  and  overthrowing 
many  of  the  bravest  knights  of  France.  At  length  he 
found  himself  opposite  to  Rinaldo,  who,  being  inter- 
rupted, as  we  have  said,  in  his  combat  with  Rodomont, 
and  unable  to  follow  him.  being  on  foot,  was  shouting 
to  his  late  foe  to  return  and  finish  their  combat.  Rogero 
also  was  on  foot,  and  seeing  the  Christian  knight  so 
eager  for  a  contest,  proffered  himself  to  supply  the  place 
of  his  late  antagonist.  Rinaldo  saw  at  a  glance  that  the 
Moorish  prince  was  a  champion  worthy  of  his  arm,  and 
gladly  accepted  the  defiance.  The  combat  was  stoutly 
maintained  for  a  time;  but  now  fortune  declared  deci- 
sively in  favor  of  the  infidel  army,  and  Charlemagne's 
forces  gave  way  at  all  points  in  irreparable  confusion. 
The  two  combatants  were  separated  by  the  crowd  of 
fugitives  and  pursuers,  and  Rinaldo  hastened  to  recover 
possession  of  his  horse.  But  Bayard,  in  the  confusion, 
had  got  loose,  and  Rinaldo  followed  him  into  a  thick 
wood,  thus  becoming  effectually  separated  from  Rogero. 

Rogero,  also  seeking  his  horse  in  the  medley,  came 
where  two  warriors  were  engaged  in  mortal  combat. 
Though  he  knew  not  who  they  were,  he  could  distin- 
guish that  one  was  a  paynim  and  the  other  a  Christian ; 
and  moved  by  the  spirit  of  courtesy  he  approached  them 
and  exclaimed,  "Let  him  of  the  two  who  worships  Christ 
pause,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say.  The  «rmv  of 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  697 

Charles  is  routed  and  in  flight,  so  that  if  he  wishes  to 
follow  his  leader  he  has  no  time  for  delay."  The  Chris- 
tian knight,  who  was  none  other  than  Bradamante,  a 
female  warrior,  in  prowess  equal  to  the  best  of  knights, 
was  thunderstruck  with  the  tidings,  and  would  gladly 
leave  the  contest  undecided,  and  retire  from  the  field; 
but  Rodomont,  her  antagonist,  would  by  no  means  con- 
sent. Rogero,  indignant  at  his  discourtesy,  insisted  upon 
her  departure,  while  he  took  up  her  quarrel  with  Rodo- 
mont. 

The  combat,  obstinately  maintained  on  both  sides, 
was  interrupted  by  the  return  of  Bradamante.  Find- 
ing herself  unable  to  overtake  the  fugitives,  and  reluc- 
tant to  leave  to  another  the  burden  and  risk  of  a  con- 
test which  belonged  to  herself,  she  had  returned  to 
reclaim  the  combat.  She  arrived,  however,  when  her 
champion  had  dealt  his  enemy  such  a  blow  as  obliged 
him  to  drop  both  his  sword  and  bridle.  Rogero,  dis- 
daining to  profit  by  his  adversary's  defenceless  situation, 
sat  apart  upon  his  horse,  while  that  of  Rodomont  bore 
his  rider,  stunned  and  stupefied,  about  the  field. 

Bradamante  approached  Rogero,  conceiving  a  yet 
higher  opinion  of  his  valor  on  beholding  such  an  in- 
stance of  forbearance.  She  addressed  him,  excusing 
herself  for  leaving  him  exposed  to  an  enemy  from  his 
interference  in  her  cause ;  pleading  her  duty  to  her  sov- 
ereign as  the  motive.  While  she  spoke  Rodomont,  re- 
covered from  his  confusion,  rode  up  to  them.  His  bear- 
ing was,  however,  changed;  and  he  disclaimed  all 
thoughts  of  further  contest  with  one  who,  he  said,  "had 
already  conquered  him  by  his  courtesy."  So  saying,  he 
quitted  his  antagonist,  picked  up  his  sword,  and  spurred 
out  of  sight. 

Bradamante  was  now  again  desirous  of  retiring  from 
the  field,  and  Rogero  insisted  on  accompanying  her, 
though  yet  unaware  of  her  sex. 

As  they  pursued  their  way,  she  inquired  the  name  and 
quality  of  her  new  associate;  and  Rogero  informed  her 
of  his  nation  and  family.  He  told  her  that  Astyanax, 
the  son  of  Hector  of  Troy,  established  the  kingdom  of 
Messina  in  Sicily.  From  him  were  derived  two 


698  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

branches,  which  gave  origin  to  two  families  of  renown. 
From  one  sprang  the  royal  race  of  Pepin  and  Charle- 
magne, and  from  the  other,  that  of  Reggio,  in  Italy. 
"From  that  of  Reggio  am  I  derived,"  he  continued. 
"My  mother,  driven  from  her  home  by  the  chance  of 
war,  died  in  giving  me  life,  and  I  was  taken  in  charge 
by  a  sage  enchanter,  who  trained  me  to  feats  of  arms 
amidst  the  dangers  of  the  desert  and  the  chase." 

Having  thus  ended  his  tale,  Rogero  entreated  a  simi- 
lar return  of  courtesy  from  his  companion,  who  replied, 
without  disguise,  that  she  was  of  the  race  of  Clermont, 
and  sister  to  Rinaldo,  whose  fame  was  perhaps  known 
to  him.  Rogero,  much  moved  by  this  intelligence,  en- 
treated her  to  take  off  her  helmet,  and  at  the  discovery 
of  her  tace  remained  transported  with  delight. 

While  absorbed  in  this  contemplation,  an  unexpected 
danger  assailed  them.  A  party  which  was  placed  in  a 
wood,  in  order  to  intercept  the  retreating  Christians, 
broke  from  its  ambush  upon  the  pair,  and  Bradamante, 
who  was  uncasqued,  was  wounded  in  the  head.  Rogero 
was  in  a  fury  at  this  attack;  and  Bradamante,  replacing 
her  helmet,  joined  him  in  taking  speedy  vengeance  on 
their  enemies.  They  cleared  the  field  of  them,  but  be- 
came separated  in  the  pursuit,  and  Rogero,  quitting  the 
chase,  wandered  by  hill  and  vale  in  search  of  her  whom 
he  had  no  sooner  found  than  lost. 

While  pursuing  this  quest  he  fell  in  with  two  knights, 
whom  he  joined,  and  engaged  them  to  assist  him  in 
the  search  of  his  companion,  describing  her  arms,  but 
concealing,  from  a  certain  feeling  of  jealousy,  her  qual- 
ity and  sex. 

It  was  evening  when  they  joined  company,  and  hav- 
ing ridden  together  through  the  night  the  morning  was 
beginning  to  break,  when  one  of  the  strangers,  fixing 
his  eyes  upon  Rogero's  shield,  demanded  of  him  by 
what  right  he  bore  the  Trojan  arms.  Rogero  declared 
his  origin  and  race,  and  then,  in  his  turn,  interrogated 
the  inquirer  as  to  his  pretensions  to  the  cognizance  of 
Hector,  which  he  bore.  The  stranger  replied,  "My  name 
is  Mandricardo,  son  of  Agrican,  the  Tartar  king,  whom 
Orlando  treacherously  slew.  I  say  treacherously,  for  in 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  699 

fair  fight  he  could  not  have  done  it.  It  is  in  search  of 
him  that  I  have  come  to  France,  to  take  vengeance  for 
my  father,  and  to  wrest  from  him  Durindana,  that 
famous  sword,  which  belongs  to  me,  and  not  to  him." 
When  the  knights  demanded  to  know  by  what  right  he 
claimed  Durindana,  Mandricardo  thus  related  his  his- 
tory: 

"I  had  been,  before  the  death  of  my  father,  a  wild 
and  reckless  youth.  That  event  awakened  my  energies, 
and  drove  me  forth  to  seek  for  vengeance.  Determined 
to  owe  success  to  nothing  but  my  own  exertions,  I  de- 
parted without  attendants  or  horse  or  arms.  Travelling 
thus  alone,  and  on  foot,  I  espied  one  day  a  pavilion, 
pitched  near  a  fountain,  and  entered  it,  intent  on  adven- 
ture. I  found  therein  a  damsel  of  gracious  aspect,  who 
replied  to  my  inquiries  that  the  fountain  was  the  work 
of  a  fairy,  whose  castle  stood  beyond  a  neighboring 
hill,  where  she  kept  watch  over  a  treasure  which  many 
knights  had  tried  to  win,  but  fruitlessly,  having  lost 
their  life  or  liberty  in  the  attempt.  This  treasure  was 
the  armor  of  Hector,  prince  of  Troy,  whom  Achilles 
treacherously  slew.  Nothing  was  wanting  but  his  sword, 
Durindana,  and  this  had  fallen  into  the  possession  of  a 
queen  named  Penthesilea,  from  whom  it  passed  through 
her  descendants  to  Almontes,  whom  Orlando  slew,  and 
thus  became  possessed  of  the  sword.  The  rest  of  Hec- 
tor's arms  were  saved  and  carried  off  by  ^Eneas,  from 
whom  this  fairy  received  them  in  recompense  of  service 
rendered.  'If  you  have  the  courage  to  attempt  their 
acquisition/  said  the  damsel,  'I  will  be  your  guide/  " 

Mandricardo  went  on  to  say  that  he  eagerly  embraced 
the  proposal,  and  being  provided  with  horse  and  armor 
by  the  damsel,  set  forth  on  his  enterprise,  the  lady  ac- 
companying him. 

As  they  rode  she  explained  the  dangers  of  the  quest. 
The  armor  was  defended  by  a  champion,  one  of  the 
numerous  unsuccessful  adventurers  for  the  prize,  all  of 
whom  had  been  made  prisoners  by  the  fairy,  and  com- 
pelled to  take  their  turn,  day  by  day,  in  defending  the 
arms  against  all  comers.  Thus  speaking  they  arrived 
at  the  castle,  which  was  of  alabaster,  overlaid  with  gold. 


700  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Before  it,  on  a  lawn,  sat  an  armed  knight  on  horseback, 
who  was  none  other  than  Gradasso,  king  of  Sericane, 
who,  in  his  return  home  from  his  unsuccessful  inroad 
into  France,  had  fallen  into  the  power  of  the  fairy,  and 
was  held  to  do  her  bidding.  Mandricardo,  upon  seeing 
him,  dropt  his  visor,  and  laid  his  lance  in  rest.  The 
champion  of  the  castle  was  equally  ready,  and  each 
spurred  towards  his  opponent.  They  met  one  another 
with  equal  force,  splintered  their  spears,  and,  returning 
to  the  charge,  encountered  with  their  swords.  The  con- 
test was  long  and  doubtful,  when  Mandricardo,  deter- 
mined to  bring  it  to  an  end,  threw  his  arms  about  Gra- 
dasso, grappled  with  him,  and  both  fell  to  the  ground. 
Mandricardo,  however,  fell  uppermost,  and,  preserving 
his  advantage,  compelled  Gradasso  to  yield  himself  con- 
quered. The  damsel  now  interfered,  congratulating1  the 
victor,  and  consoling  the  vanquished  as  well  as  she 
might. 

Mandricardo  and  the  damsel  proceeded  to  the  gate  of 
the  castle,  which  they  found  undefended.  As  they  en- 
tered they  beheld  a  shield  suspended  from  a  pilaster  of 
gold.  The  device  was  a  white  eagle  on  an  azure  field, 
in  memory  of  the  bird  of  Jove,  which  bore  away  Gany- 
mede, the  flower  of  the  Phrygian  race.  Beneath  was 
engraved  the  following  couplet : 

"Let  none  with  hand  profane  my  buckler  wrong 
Unless  he  be  himself  as  Hector  strong." 

The  damsel,  alighting  from  her  palfrey,  made  obei- 
sance to  the  arms,  bending  herself  to  the  ground.  The 
Tartar  king  bowed  his  head  with  equal  reverence;  then 
advancing  towards  the  shield,  touched  it  with  his  sword. 
Thereupon  an  earthquake  shook  the  ground,  and  the 
way  by  which  he  had  entered  closed.  Another  and  an 
opposite  gate  opened,  and  displayed  a  field  bristling  with 
stalks  and  grain  of  gold.  The  damsel,  upon  this,  told 
him  that  he  had  no  means  of  retreat  but  by  cutting 
down  the  harvest  which  was  before  him,  and  by  uproot- 
ing a  tree  which  grew  in  the  middle  of  the  field.  Man- 
dricardo, without  replying,  began  to  mow  the  harvest 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  701 

with  his  sword,  but  had  scarce  smitten  thrice  when  he 
perceived  that  every  stalk  that  fell  was  instantly  trans- 
formed into  some  poisonous  or  ravenous  animal,  which 
prepared  to  assail  him.  Instructed  by  the  damsel,  he 
snatched  up  a  stone  and  cast  it  among  the  pack.  A 
strange  wonder  followed;  for  no  sooner  had  the  stone 
fallen  among  the  beasts,  than  they  turned  their  rage 
against  one  another,  and  rent  each  other  to  pieces.  Man- 
dricardo  did  not  stop  to  marvel  at  the  miracle,  but  pro- 
ceeded to  fulfil  his  task,  and  uproot  the  tree.  He  clasped 
it  round  the  trunk,  and  made  vigorous  efforts  to  tear  it 
up  by  the  roots.  At  each  effort  fell  a  shower  of  leaves, 
that  were  instantly  changed  into  birds  of  prey,  which 
attacked  the  knight,  flapping  their  wings  in  his  face,  with 
horrid  screeching.  But  undismayed  by  this  new  annoy- 
ance, he  continued  to  tug  at  the  trunk  till  it  yielded  to 
his  efforts.  A  burst  of  wind  and  thunder  followed,  and 
the  hawks  and  vultures  flew  screaming  away. 

But  these  only  gave  place  to  a  new  foe;  for  from 
the  hole  made  by  tearing  up  the  tree  issued  a  furious 
serpent,  and,  darting  at  Mandricardo,  wound  herself 
about  his  limbs  with  a  strain  that  almost  crushed  him. 
Fortune,  however,  again  stood  his  friend,  for,  writhing 
under  the  folds  of  the  monster,  he  fell  backwards  into 
the  hole,  and  his  enemy  was  crushed  beneath  his  weight. 

Mandricardo,  when  he  was  somewhat  recovered,  and 
assured  himself  of  the  destruction  of  the  serpent,  began 
to  contemplate  the  place  into  which  he  had  fallen,  and 
saw  that  he  was  in  a  vault,  incrusted  with  costly  metals, 
and  illuminated  by  a  live  coal.  In  the  middle  was  a  sort 
of  ivory  bier,  and  upon  this  was  extended  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  knight  in  armor,  but  was  in  truth  an 
empty  trophy,  composed  of  the  rich  and  precious  arms 
once  Hector's,  to  which  nothing  was  wanting  but  the 
sword.  While  Mandricardo  stood  contemplating  the 
prize  a  door  opened  behind  him,  and  a  bevy  of  fair 
damsels  entered,  dancing,  who,  taking  up  the  armor 
piece  by  piece,  led  him  away  to  the  place  where  the 
shield  was  suspended;  where  he  found  the  fairy  of  the 
castle  seated  in  state.  By  her  he  was  invested  with 
the  arms  he  had  won,  first  pledging  his  solemn  oath  to 


702  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

wear  no  other  blade  but  Durindana,  which  he  was  to 
wrest  from  Orlando,  and  thus  complete  the  conquest  of 
Hector's  arms. 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  (Continued) 

MANDRICARDO,  having  completed  his  story,  now  turned 
to  Rogero,  and  proposed  that  arms  should  decide  which 
of  the  two  was  most  worthy  to  bear  the  symbol  of  the 
Trojan  knight. 

Rogero  felt  no  other  objection  to  this  proposal  than 
the  scruple  which  arose  on  observing  that  his  antagonist 
was  without  a  sword.  Mandricardo  insisted  that  this 
need  be  no  impediment,  since  his  oath  prevented  him 
from  using  a  sword  until  he  should  have  achieved  the 
conquest  of  Durindana. 

This  was  no  sooner  said  than  a  new  antagonist  started 
up  in  Gradasso,  who  now  accompanied  Mandricardo. 
Gradasso  vindicated  his  prior  right  to  Durindana,  to 
obtain  which  he  had  embarked  (as  was  related  in  the 
beginning)  in  that  bold  inroad  upon  France.  A  quar- 
rel was  thus  kindled  between  the  kings  of  Tartary  and 
Sericane.  While  the  dispute  was  raging  a  knight  ar- 
rived upon  the  ground,  accompanied  by  a  damsel,  to 
whom  Rogero  related  the  cause  of  the  strife.  The 
knight  was  Florismart,  and  his  companion  Flordelis. 
Florismart  succeeded  in  bringing  the  two  champions  to 
accord,  by  informing  them  that  he  could  bring  them  to 
the  presence  of  Orlando,  the  master  of  Durindana. 

Gradasso  and  Mandricardo  readily  made  truce,  in  or- 
der to  accompany  Florismart,  nor  would  Rogero  be  left 
behind. 

As  they  proceeded  on  their  quest  they  were  met  by 
a  dwarf,  who  entreated  their  assistance  in  behalf  of  his 
lady,  who  had  been  carried  off  by  an  enchanter,  mounted 
on  a  winged  horse.  However  unwilling  to  leave  the 
question  of  the  sword  undecided,  it  was  not  possible  for 
the  knights  to  resist  this  appeal.  Two  of  their  number, 
Gradasso  and  Rogero,  therefore  accompanied  the  dwarf. 
Mandricardo  persisted  in  his  search  for  Orlando,  and 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  703 

Florismart,  with  Flordelis,  pursued  their  way  to  the 
camp  of  Charlemagne. 

Atlantes,  the  enchanter,  who  had  brought  up  Rogero, 
and  cherished  for  him  the  warmest  affection,  knew  by 
his  art  that  his  pupil  was  destined  to  be  severed  from 
him,  and  converted  to  the  Christian  faith  through  the 
influence  of  Bradamante,  that  royal  maiden  with  whom 
chance  had  brought  him  acquainted.  Thinking  to  thwart 
the  will  of  Heaven  in  this  respect,  he  now  put  forth  all 
his  arts  to  entrap  Rogero  into  his  power.  By  the  aid 
of  his  subservient  demons  he  reared  a  castle  on  an  inac- 
cessible height,  in  the  Pyrenean  mountains,  and  to  make 
it  a  pleasant  abode  to  his  pupil,  contrived  to  entrap  and 
convey  thither  knights  and  damsels  many  a  one,  whom 
chance  had  brought  into  the  vicinity  of  his  castle.  Here, 
in  a  sort  of  sensual  paradise,  they  were  but  too  willing 
to  forget  glory  and  duty,  and  to  pass  their  time  in 
indolent  enjoyment 

It  was  by  the  enchanter  that  the  dwarf  had  now 
been  sent  to  tempt  the  knights  into  his  power. 

But  we  must  now  return  to  Rinaldo,  whom  we  left 
interrupted  in  his  combat  with  Rodomont.  In  search 
of  his  late  antagonist  and  intent  on  bringing  their  com- 
bat to  a  decision  he  entered  the  forest  of  Arden,  whither 
he  suspected  Rodomont  had  gone.  While  engaged  on 
this  quest  he  was  surprised  by  the  vision  of  a  beautiful 
child  dancing  naked,  with  three  damsels  as  beautiful 
as  himself.  While  he  was  lost  in  admiration  at  the  sight 
the  child  approached  him,  and,  throwing  at  him  hand- 
fuls  of  roses  and  lilies,  struck  him  from  his  horse.  He 
was  no  sooner  down  than  he  was  seized  by  the  dancers, 
by  whom  he  was  dragged  about  and  scourged  with  flow- 
ers till  he  fell  into  a  swoon.  When  he  began  to  revive 
one  of  the  group  approached  him,  and  told  him  that  his 
punishment  was  the  consequence  of  his  rebellion  against 
that  power  before  whom  all  things  bend ;  that  there  was 
but  one  remedy  to  heal  the  wounds  that  had  been  in- 
flicted, and  that  was  to  drink  of  the  waters  of  Love. 
Then  they  left  him. 

Rinaldo,  sore  and  faint,  dragged  himself  toward  a 
fountain  which  flowed  near  bv,  and,  bein?  parched  with 


704  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

thirst,  drank  greedily  and  almost  unconsciously  of  the 
water,  which  was  sweet  to  the  taste,  but  bitter  to  the 
heart.  After  repeated  draughts  he  recovered  his 
strength  and  recollection,  and  found  himself  in  the  same 
place  where  Angelica  had  formerly  awakened  him  with 
a  rain  of  flowers,  and  whence  he  had  fled  in  contempt 
of  her  courtesy. 

This  remembrance  of  the  scene  was  followed  by  the 
recognition  of  his  crime;  and,  repenting  bitterly  his  in- 
gratitude, he  leaped  upon  Bayard,  with  the  intention  of 
hastening  to  Angelica's  country,  and  soliciting  his  par- 
don at  her  feet. 

Let  us  now  retrace  our  steps,  and  revert  to  the  time 
when  the  paladins  having  learned  from  Dudon  the  sum- 
mons of  Charlemagne  to  return  to  France  to  repel 
the  invaders,  had  all  obeyed  the  command  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Orlando,  whose  passion  for  Angelica  still 
held  him  in  attendance  on  her.  Orlando,  arriving  be- 
fore Albracca,  found  it  closely  beleaguered.  He,  how- 
ever, made  his  way  into  the  citadel,  and  related  his 
adventures  to  Angelica,  from  the  time  of  his  departure 
up  to  his  separation  from  Rinaldo  and  the  rest,  when 
they  departed  to  the  assistance  of  Charlemagne.  An- 
gelica, in  return,  described  the  distresses  of  the  garrison, 
and  the  force  of  the  besiegers ;  and  in  conclusion  prayed 
Orlando  to  favor  her  escape  from  the  pressing  danger, 
and  escort  her  into  France.  Orlando,  who  did  not  sus- 
pect that  love  for  Rinaldo  was  her  secret  motive,  joy- 
fully agreed  to  the  proposal,  and  the  sally  was  resolved 
upon. 

Leaving  lights  burning  in  the  fortress,  they  departed 
at  nightfall,  and  passed  in  safety  through  the  enemy's 
camp.  After  encountering  numerous  adventures  they 
reached  the  sea-side,  and  embarked  on  board  a  pinnace 
for  France.  The  vessel  arrived  safely,  and  the  travel- 
lers, disembarking  in  Provence,  pursued  their  way  by 
land.  One  day,  heated  and  weary,  they  sought  shelter 
from  the  sun  in  the  forest  of  Arden,  and  chance  directed 
Angelica  to  the  fountain  of  Disdain,  of  whose  waters 
she  eagerly  drank. 

Issuing  thence,  the  Count  and  damsel  encountered  a 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  705 

stranger-knight.  It  was  no  other  than  Rinaldo,  who 
was  just  on  the  point  of  setting  off  on  a  pilgrimage  in 
search  of  Angelica,  to  implore  her  pardon  for  his  insen- 
sibility, and  urge  his  new  found  passion.  Surprise  and 
delight  at  first  deprived  him  of  utterance,  but  soon 
recovering  himself,  he  joyfully  saluted  her,  claiming  her 
as  his,  and  exhorting  her  to  put  herself  under  his  pro- 
tection. His  presumption  was  repelled  by  Angelica  with 
disdain,  and  Orlando,  enraged  at  the  invasion  of  his 
rights,  challenged  him  to  decide  their  claims  by  arms. 

Terrified  at  the  combat  which  ensued,  Angelica  fled 
amain  through  the  forest,  and  came  out  upon  a  plain 
covered  with  tents.  This  was  the  camp  of  Charlemagne, 
who  led  the  army  of  reserve  destined  to  support  the 
troops  which  had  advanced  to  oppose  Marsilius.  Charles 
having  heard  the  damsel's  tale,  with  difficulty  separated 
the  two  cousins,  and  then  consigned  Angelica,  as  the 
cause  of  quarrel,  to  the  care  of  Namo,  Duke  of  Bavaria, 
promising  that  she  should  be  his  who  should  best  deserve 
her  in  the  impending  battle. 

But  these  plans  and  hopes  were  frustrated.  The 
Christian  army,  beaten  at  all  points,  fled  from  the  Sara- 
cens ;  and  Angelica,  indifferent  to  both  her  lovers, 
mounted  a  swift  palfrey  and  plunged  into  the  forest, 
rejoicing,  in  spite  of  her  terror,  at  having  regained  her 
liberty.  She  stopped  at  last  in  a  tufted  grove,  where  a 
gentle  zephyr  blew,  and  whose  young  trees  were  watered 
by  two  clear  runnels,  which  came  and  mingled  their 
waters,  making  a  pleasing  murmur.  Believing  herself 
far  from  Rinaldo,  and  overcome  by  fatigue  and  the 
summer  heat,  she  saw  with  delight  a  bank  covered  with 
flowers  so  thick  that  they  almost  hid  the  green  turf,  in- 
viting her  to  alight  and  rest.  She  dismounted  from  her 
palfrey,  and  turned  him  loose  to  recruit  his  strength 
with  the  tender  grass  which  bordered  the  streamlets. 
Then,  in  a  sheltered  nook  tapestried  with  moss  and 
fenced  in  with  roses  and  hawthorn-flowers,  she  yielded 
herself  to  grateful  repose. 

She  had  not  slept  long  when  she  was  awakened  by 
the  noise  made  by  the  approach  of  a  horse.  Starting 
¥p,  she  saw  an  armed  knight  who  had  arrived  at  the 


706  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

bank  of  the  stream.  Not  knowing  whether  he  was  to 
be  feared  or  not,  her  heart  beat  with  anxiety.  She 
pressed  aside  the  leaves  to  allow  her  to  see  who  it  was, 
but  scarce  dared  to  breathe  for  fear  of  betraying  herself. 
Soon  the  knight  threw  himself  on  the  flowery  bank,  and 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand  fell  into  a  profound  reverie. 
Then  arousing  himself  from  his  silence  he  began  to 
pour  forth  complaints,  mingled  with  deep  sighs.  Rivers 
of  tears  flowed  down  his  cheeks,  and  his  breast  seemed 
to  labor  with  a  hidden  flame.  "Ah,  vain  regrets!"  he 
exclaimed;  "cruel  fortune!  others  triumph,  while  I  en- 
dure hopeless  misery !  Better  a  thousand  times  to  lose 
life,  than  wear  a  chain  so  disgraceful  and  so  op- 
pressive !" 

Angelica  by  this  time  had  recognized  the  stranger, 
and  perceived  that  it  was  Sacripant,  king  of  Circassia, 
one  of  the  worthiest  of  her  suitors.  This  prince  had 
followed  Angelica  from  his  country,  at  the  very  gates 
of  the  day,  to  France,  where  he  heard  with  dismay  that 
she  was  under  the  guardianship  of  the  Paladin  Orlando, 
and  that  the  Emperor  had  announced  his  decree  to 
award  her  as  the  prize  of  valor  to  that  one  of  his 
nephews  who  should  best  deserve  her. 

As  Sacripant  continued  to  lament,  Angelica,  who  had 
always  opposed  the  hardness  of  marble  to  his  sighs, 
thought  with  herself  that  nothing  forbade  her  employ- 
ing his  good  offices  in  this  unhappy  crisis.  Though 
firmly  resolved  never  to  accept  him  as  a  spouse,  she  yet 
felt  the  necessity  of  giving  him  a  gleam  of  hope  in 
reward  for  the  service  she  required  of  him.  All  at 
once,  like  Diana,  she  stepped  forth  from  the  arbor. 
"May  the  gods  preserve  thee,"  she  said,  "and  put  far 
from  thee  all  hard  thoughts  of  me !"  Then  she  told  him 
all  that  had  befallen  her  since  she  parted  with  him 
at  her  father's  court,  and  how  she  had  availed  herself 
of  Orlando's  protection  to  escape  from  the  beleaguered 
city.  At  that  moment  the  noise  of  horse  and  armor  was 
heard  as  of  one  approaching;  and  Sacripant,  furious  at 
the  interruption,  resumed  his  helmet,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  placed  his  lance  in  rest.  He  saw  a  knight  advanc- 
ing, with  scarf  and  plume  of  snowy  whiteness.  Sacri- 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  707 

pant  regarded  him  with  angry  eyes,  and,  while  he  was 
yet  some  distance  off,  defied  him  to  the  combat.  The 
other,  not  moved  by  his  angry  tone  to  make  reply,  put 
himself  on  his  defence.  Their  horses,  struck  at  the 
same  moment  with  the  spur,  rushed  upon  one  another 
with  the  impetuosity  of  a  tempest.  Their  shields  were 
pierced  each  with  the  other's  lance,  and  only  the  temper 
of  their  breastplates  saved  their  lives.  Both  the  horses 
recoiled  with  the  violence  of  the  shock ;  but  the  unknown 
knight's  recovered  itself  at  the  touch  of  the  spur;  the 
Saracen  king's  fell  dead,  and  bore  down  his  master  with 
him.  The  white  knight,  seeing  his  enemy  in  this  condi- 
tion, cared  not  to  renew  the  combat,  but,  thinking  he 
had  done  enough  for  glory,  pursued  his  way  through 
the  forest,  and  was  a  mile  off  before  Sacripant  had  got 
free  from  his  horse. 

As  a  ploughman,  stunned  by  a  thunder-clap  which 
has  stricken  dead  the  oxen  at  his  plough,  stands  motion- 
less, sadly  contemplating  his  loss,  so  Sacripant  stood 
confounded  and  overwhelmed  with  mortification  at  hav- 
ing Angelica  a  witness  of  his  defeat.  He  groaned,  he 
sighed,  less  from  the  pain  of  his  bruises  than  for  the 
shame  of  being  reduced  to  such  a  state  before  her.  The 
princess  took  pity  on  him,  and  consoled  him  as  well  as 
she  could.  "Banish  your  regrets,  my  lord,"  she  said, 
"this  accident  has  happened  solely  in  consequence  of  the 
feebleness  of  your  horse,  which  had  more  need  of  rest 
and  food  than  of  such  an  encounter  as  this.  Nor  can 
your  adversary  gain  any  credit  by  it,  since  he  has  hur- 
ried away,  not  venturing  a  second  trial."  While  she 
thus  consoled  Sacripant  they  perceived  a  person  ap- 
proach, who  seemed  a  courier,  with  bag  and  horn.  As 
soon  as  he  came  up,  he  accosted  Sacripant,  and  inquired 
if  he  had  seen  a  knight  pass  that  way,  bearing  a  white 
shield  and  with  a  white  plume  to  his  helmet.  "I  have, 
indeed,  seen  too  much  of  him,"  said  Sacripant,  "it  is  he 
who  has  brought  me  to  the  ground ;  but  at  least  I  hope 
to  learn  from  you  who  that  knight  is."  "That  I  can 
easily  inform  you,"  said  the  man ;  "know  then  that,  if 
you  have  been  overthrown,  you  owe  your  fate  to  the 
high  prowess  of  a  lady  as  beautiful  as  she  is  brave.  It 


708  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

is  the  fair  and  illustrious  Bradamante  who  has  won 
from  you  the  honors  of  victory." 

At  these  words  the  courier  rode  on  his  way,  leaving 
Sacripant  more  confounded  and  mortified  than  ever. 
In  silence  he  mounted  the  horse  of  Angelica,  taking  the 
lady  behind  him  on  the  croup,  and  rode  away  in  search 
of  a  more  secure  asylum.  Hardly  had  they  ridden  two 
miles  when  a  new  sound  was  heard  in  the  forest,  and 
they  perceived  a  gallant  and  powerful  horse,  which, 
leaping  the  ravines  and  dashing  aside  the  branches  that 
opposed  his  passage,  appeared  before  them,  accoutred 
with  a  rich  harness  adorned  with  gold. 

"If  I  may  believe  my  eyes,  which  penetrate  with  diffi- 
culty the  underwood/'  said  Angelica,  "that  horse  that 
dashes  so  stoutly  through  the  bushes  is  Bayard,  and  I 
marvel  how  he  seems  to  know  the  need  we  have  of 
him,  mounted  as  we  are  both  on  one  feeble  animal." 
Sacripant,  dismounting  from  the  palfrey,  approached  the 
fiery  courser,  and  attempted  to  seize  his  bridle,  but  the 
disdainful  animal,  turning  from  him,  launched  at  him  a 
volley  of  kicks  enough  to  have  shattered  a  wall  of  mar- 
ble. Bayard  then  approached  Angelica  with  an  air  as 
gentle  and  loving  as  a  faithful  dog  could  his  master  after 
a  long  separation.  For  he  remembered  how  she  had 
caressed  him,  and  even  fed  him,  in  Albracca.  She  took 
his  bridle  in  her  left  hand,  while  with  her  right  she  pat- 
ted his  neck.  The  beautiful  animal,  gifted  with  won- 
derful intelligence,  seemed  to  submit  entirely.  Sacri- 
pant, seizing  the  moment  to  vault  upon  him,  controlled 
his  curvetings,  and  Angelica,  quitting  the  croup  of  the 
palfrey,  regained  her  seat. 

But,  turning  his  eyes  toward  a  place  where  was  heard 
a  noise  of  arms,  Sacripant  beheld  Rinaldo.  That  hero 
now  loves  Angelica  more  than  his  life,  and  she  flies  him 
as  the  timid  crane  the  falcon. 

The  fountain  of  which  Angelica  had  drunk  produced 
such  an  effect  on  the  beautiful  queen  that,  with  dis- 
tressed countenance  and  trembling  voice,  she  conjured 
Sacripant  not  to  wait  the  approach  of  Rinaldo,  but  to 
join  her  in  flight. 

"Am  I,  then,"  said  Sacripant,  "of  so  little  esteem  with 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  709 

you  that  you  doubt  my  power  to  defend  you?  Do  you 
forget  the  battle  of  Albracca,  and  how,  in  your  defence, 
I  fought  single-handed  against  Agrican  and  all  his 
knights?" 

Angelica  made  no  reply,  uncertain  what  to  do;  but 
already  Rinaldo  was  too  near  to  be  escaped.  He  ad- 
vanced menacingly  to  the  Circassian  king,  for  he  recog- 
nized his  horse. 

"Vile  thief,"  he  cried,  "dismount  from  that  horse, 
and  prevent  the  punishment  that  is  your  due  for  daring 
to  rob  me  of  my  property.  Leave,  also,  the  princess  in 
my  hands;  for  it  would  indeed  be  a  sin  to  suffer  so 
charming  a  lady  and  so  gallant  a  charger  to  remain  in 
such  keeping." 

The  king  of  Circassia,  furious  at  being  thus  insulted, 
cried  out,  "Thou  liest,  villain,  in  giving  me  the  name  of 
thief,  which  better  belongs  to  thyself  than  to  me.  It 
is  true,  the  beauty  of  this  lady  and  the  perfection  of 
this  horse  are  unequalled;  come  on,  then,  and  let  us  try 
which  of  us  is  most  worthy  to  possess  them." 

At  these  words  the  king  of  Circassia  and  Rinaldo 
attacked  one  another  with  all  their  force,  one  fighting 
on  foot,  the  other  on  horseback.  You  need  not,  how- 
ever, suppose  that  the  Saracen  king  found  any  advantage 
in  this;  for  a  young  page,  unused  to  horsemanship, 
could  not  have  failed  more  completely  to  manage  Bay- 
ard than  did  this  accomplished  knight.  The  faithful 
animal  loved  his  master  too  well  to  injure  him,  and 
refused  his  aid  as  well  as  his  obedience  to  the  hand  of 
Sacripant,  who  could  strike  but  ineffectual  blows,  the 
horse  backing  when  he  wished  him  to  go  forward,  and 
dropping  his  head  and  arching  his  back,  throwing  out 
with  his  legs,  so  as  almost  to  shake  the  knight  out  of 
the  saddle.  Sacripant,  seeing  that  he  could  not  manage 
him,  watched  his  opportunity,  rose  on  his  saddle,  and 
leapt  lightly  to  the  earth;  then,  relieved  from  the  em- 
barrassment of  the  horse,  renewed  the  combat  on  more 
equal  terms.  Their  skill  to  thrust  and  parry  were  equal ; 
one  rises,  the  other  stoops;  with  one  foot  set  firm  they 
turn  and  wind,  to  lay  on  strokes  or  to  dodge  them. 
At  last  Rinaldo,  throwing  himself  on  the  Circassian, 


710  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

dealt  him  a  blow  so  terrible  that  Fusberta,  his  good 
sword,  cut  in  two  the  buckler  of  Sacripant,  although 
it  was  made  of  bone,  and  covered  with  a  thick  plate 
of  steel  well  tempered.  The  arm  of  the  Saracen  was 
deprived  of  its  defence,  and  almost  palsied  with  the 
stroke.  Angelica,  perceiving  how  victory  was  likely  to 
incline,  and  shuddering  at  the  thought  of  becoming  the 
prize  of  Rinaldo,  hesitated  no  longer.  Turning  her 
horse's  head,  she  fled  with  the  utmost  speed ;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  round  pebbles  which  covered  a  steep  descent, 
she  plunged  into  a  deep  valley,  trembling  with  the  fear 
that  Rinaldo  was  in  pursuit.  At  the  bottom  of  this  val- 
ley she  encountered  an  aged  hermit,  whose  white  beard 
flowed  to  his  middle,  and  whose  venerable  appearance 
seemed  to  assure  his  piety. 

This  hermit,  who  appeared  shrunk  by  age  and  fast- 
ing, travelled  slowly,  mounted  upon  a  wretched  ass. 
The  princess,  overcome  with  fear,  conjured  him  to  save 
her  life;  and  to  conduct  her  to  some  port  of  the  sea, 
whence  she  might  embark  and  quit  France,  never  more 
to  hear  the  odious  name  of  Rinaldo. 

The  old  hermit  was  something  of  a  wizard.  He  com- 
forted Angelica,  and  promised  to  protect  her  from  all 
peril.  Then  he  opened  his  scrip,  and  took  from  thence 
a  book,  and  had  read  but  a  single  page  when  a  goblin, 
obedient  to  his  incantations,  appeared,  under  the  form 
of  a  laboring  man,  and  demanded  his  orders.  He  re- 
ceived them,  transported  himself  to  the  place  where  the 
knights  still  maintained  their  conflict,  and  boldly  stepped 
between  the  two. 

"Tell  me,  I  pray  you,"  he  said,  "what  benefit  will 
accrue  to  him  who  shall  get  the  better  in  this  contest? 
The  object  you  are  contending  for  is  already  disposed 
of;  for  the  Paladin  Orlando,  without  effort  and  with- 
out opposition,  is  now  carrying  away  the  princess  An- 
gelica to  Paris.  You  had  better  pursue  them  promptly ; 
for  if  they  reach  Paris  you  will  never  see  her  again." 

At  these  words  yon  might  have  seen  those  rival  war- 
riors confounded,  stupefied,  silently  agreeing  that  they 
were  affording  their  rival  a  fair  opportunity  to  triumph 
over  them.  Rinaldo,  approaching  Bayard,  breathes  a 


THE  INVASION  OF  FRANCE  711 

sigh  of  shame  and  rage,  and  swears  a  terrible  oath 
that,  if  he  overtakes  Orlando,  he  will  tear  his  heart  out. 
Then  mounting  Bayard  and  pressing  his  flanks  with  his 
spurs,  he  leaves  the  king  of  Circassia  on  foot  in  the 
forest. 

Let  it  not  appear  strange  that  Rinaldo  found  Bayard 
obedient  at  last,  after  having  so  long  prevented  any  one 
from  even  touching  his  bridle;  for  that  fine  animal  had 
an  intelligence  almost  human ;  he  had  fled  from  his  mas- 
ter only  to  draw  him  on  the  track  of  Angelica,  and  en- 
able him  to  recover  her.  He  saw  when  the  princess 
fled  from  the  battle,  and  Rinaldo  being  then  engaged  in  a 
fight  on  foot,  Bayard  found  himself  free  to  follow  the 
traces  of  Angelica.  Thus  he  had  drawn  his  master  after 
him,  not  permitting  him  to  approach,  and  had  brought 
him  to  the  sight  of  the  princess.  But  Bayard  now,  de- 
ceived like  his  master  with  the  false  intelligence  of  the 
goblin,  submits  to  be  mounted  and  to  serve  his  master 
as  usual,  and  Rinaldo,  animated  with  rage,  makes  him 
fly  toward  Paris,  more  slowly  than  his  wishes,  though 
the  speed  of  Bayard  outstripped  the  winds.  Full  of 
impatience  to  encounter  Orlando,  he  gave  but  a  few 
hours  that  night  to  sleep.  Early  the  next  day  he  saw 
before  him  the  great  city,  under  the  walls  of  which  the 
Emperor  Charles  had  collected  the  scattered  remains  of 
his  army.  Foreseeing  that  he  would  soon  be  attacked 
on  all  sides,  the  Emperor  had  caused  the  ancient  forti- 
fications to  be  repaired,  and  new  ones  to  be  built,  sur- 
rounded by  wide  and  deep  ditches.  The  desire  to  hold 
the  field  against  the  enemy  made  him  seize  every  means 
of  procuring  new  allies.  He  hoped  to  receive  from 
England  aid  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  form  a  new  camp, 
and  as  soon  as  Rinaldo  rejoined  him  he  selected  him  to 
go  as  his  ambassador  into  England,  to  plead  for  auxilia- 
ries. Rinaldo  was  far  from  pleased  with  his  commis- 
sion, but  he  obeyed  the  Emperor's  commands,  without 
giving  himself  time  to  devote  a  single  day  to  the  object 
nearest  his  heart.  He  hastened  to  Calais,  and  lost  not 
a  moment  in  embarking  for  England,  ardently  desiring  a 
hasty  despatch  of  his  commission,  and  a  speedy  return 
to  France. 


712  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


BRADAMANTE  AND   ROGERO 

BRADAMANTE,  the  knight  of  the  white  plume  and 
shield,  whose  sudden  appearance  and  encounter  with 
Sacripant  we  have  already  told,  was  in  quest  of  Rogero, 
from  whom  chance  had  separated  her,  almost  at  the 
beginning  of  their  acquaintance.  After  her  encounter 
with  Sacripant  Bradamante  pursued  her  way  through 
the  forest,  in  hopes  of  rejoining  Rogero,  and  arrived  at 
last  on  the  brink  of  a  fair  fountain. 

This  fountain  flowed  through  a  broad  meadow. 
Ancient  trees  overshadowed  it,  and  travellers,  attracted 
by  the  sweet  murmur  of  its  waters,  stopped  there  to  cool 
themselves.  Bradamante,  casting  her  eyes  on  all  sides 
to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  the  spot,  perceived,  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree,  a  knight  reclining,  who  seemed  to  be 
oppressed  with  the  deepest  grief. 

Bradamante  accosted  him,  and  asked  to  be  informed 
of  the  cause  of  his  distress.  "Alas !  my  lord,"  said 
he,  "I  lament  a  young  and  charming  friend,  my  affianced 
wife,  who  has  been  torn  from  me  by  a  villain, — let  me 
rather  call  him  a  demon, — who,  on  a  winged  horse, 
descended  from  the  air,  seized  her,  and  bore  her  scream- 
ing to  his  den.  I  have  pursued  them  over  rocks  and 
through  ravines  till  my  horse  is  no  longer  able  to  bear 
me,  and  I  now  wait  only  for  death."  He  added  that 
already  a  vain  attempt  on  his  behalf  had  been  made  by 
two  knights,  whom  chance  had  brought  to  the  spot. 
Their  names  were  Gradasso,  king  of  Sericane,  and 
Rogero,  the  Moor.  Both  had  been  overcome  by  the 
wiles  of  the  enchanter,  and  were  added  to  the  number 
of  the  captives,  whom  he  held  in  an  impregnable  castle, 
situated  on  the  height  of  the  mountain.  At  the  men- 
tion of  Rogero's  name  Bradamante  started  with  delight, 
which  was  soon  changed  to  an  opposite  sentiment  when 
she  heard  that  her  lover  was  a  prisoner  in  the  toils  of 
the  enchanter.  "Sir  Knight,"  she  said,  "do  not  sur- 
render yourself  to  despair;  this  day  may  be  more  happy 
for  you  than  you  think,  if  you  will  only  lead  me  to  the 
castle  which  enfolds  her  whom  you  deplore." 


BRADAMANTE  AND  ROGERO  713 

The  knight  responded,  "After  having  lost  all  that 
made  life  dear  to  me  I  have  no  motive  to  avoid  the 
dangers  of  the  enterprise,  and  I  will  do  as  you  request; 
but  I  forewarn  you  of  the  perils  you  will  have  to  en- 
counter. If  you  fall  impute  it  not  to  me." 

Having  thus  spoken,  they  took  their  way  to  the  castle, 
but  were  overtaken  by  a  messenger  from  the  camp,  who 
had  been  sent  in  quest  of  Bradamante  to  summon  her 
back  to  the  army,  where  her  presence  was  needed  to 
reassure  her  disheartened  forces,  and  withstand  the  ad- 
vance of  the  Moors. 

The  mournful  knight,  whose  name  was  Pinabel,  thus 
became  aware  that  Bradamante  was  a  scion  of  the  house 
of  Clermont,  between  which  and  his  own  of  Mayence 
there  existed  an  ancient  feud.  From  this  moment  the 
traitor  sought  only  how  he  might  be  rid  of  the  company 
of  Bradamante,  from  whom  he  feared  no  good  would 
come  to  him,  but  rather  mortal  injury,  if  his  name  and 
lineage  became  known  to  her.  For  he  judged  her  by  his 
own  base  model,  and,  knowing  his  ill  deserts,  he  feared 
to  receive  his  due. 

Bradamante,  in  spite  of  the  summons  to  return  to 
the  army,  could  not  resolve  to  leave  her  lover  in  cap- 
tivity, and  determined  first  to  finish  the  adventure  on 
which  she  was  engaged.  Pinabel  leading  the  way,  they 
at  length  arrived  at  a  wood,  in  the  centre  of  which  rose 
a  steep,  rocky  mountain.  Pinabel,  who  now  thought  of 
nothing  else  but  how  he  might  escape  from  Bradamante, 
proposed  to  ascend  the  mountain  to  extend  his  view,  in 
order  to  discover  a  shelter  for  the  night,  if  any  there 
might  be  within  sight.  Under  this  pretence  he  left 
Bradamante,  and  advanced  up  the  side  of  the  mountain 
till  he  came  to  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  down  which  he  looked, 
and  perceived  that  it  widened  below  into  a  spacious 
cavern.  Meanwhile  Bradamante,  fearful  of  losing  her 
guide,  had  followed  close  on  his  footsteps,  and  rejoined 
him  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern.  Then  the  traitor,  see- 
ing the  impossibility  of  escaping  her,  conceived  another 
design.  He  told  her  that  before  her  approach  he  had 
seen  in  the  cavern  a  young  and  beautiful  damsel,  whose 
rich  dress  announced  her  high  birth,  who  with  tears 


714  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

and  lamentations  implored  assistance;  that  before  he 
could  descend  to  relieve  her  a  ruffian  had  seized  her, 
and  hurried  her  away  into  the  recesses  of  the  cavern. 

Bradamante,  full  of  truth  and  courage,  readily  be- 
lieved this  lie  of  the  Mayencian  traitor.  Eager  to  suc- 
cor the  damsel,  she  looked  round  for  the  means  of  facili- 
tating the  descent,  and  seeing  a  large  elm  with  spreading 
branches  she  lopped  off  with  her  sword  one  of  the  larg- 
est, and  thrust  it  into  the  opening.  She  told  Pinabel  to 
hold  fast  to  the  larger  end,  while,  grasping  the  branches 
with  her  hands,  she  let  herself  down  into  the  cavern. 

The  traitor  smiled  at  seeing  her  thus  suspended,  and, 
asking  her  in  mockery,  "Are  you  a  good  leaper?"  he 
let  go  the  branch  with  perfidious  glee,  and  saw  Brada- 
mante precipitated  to  the  bottom  of  the  cave.  "I  wish 
your  whole  race  were  there  with'  you,"  he  muttered, 
"that  you  might  all  perish  together." 

But  Pinabel's  atrocious  design  was  not  accomplished. 
The  twigs  and  foliage  of  the  branch  broke  its  descent, 
and  Bradamante,  not  seriously  injured,  though  stunned 
with  her  fall,  was  reserved  for  other  adventures. 

As  soon  as  she  recovered  from  the  shock  Bradamante 
cast  her  eyes  around  and  perceived  a  door,  through 
which  she  passed  into  a  second  cavern,  larger  and  loftier 
than  the  first.  It  had  the  appearance  of  a  subterranean 
temple.  Columns  of  the  purest  alabaster  adorned  it, 
and  supported  the  roof ;  a  simple  altar  rose  in  the  mid- 
dle; a  lamp,  whose  radiance  was  reflected  by  the  alabas- 
ter walls,  cast  a  mild  light  around. 

Bradamante,  inspired  by  a  sense  of  religious  awe, 
approached  the  altar,  and,  falling  on  her  knees,  poured 
forth  her  prayers  and  thanks  to  the  Preserver  of  her 
life,  invoking  the  protection  of  his  power.  At  that  mo- 
ment a  small  door  opened,  and  a  female  issued  from  it 
with  naked  feet,  and  flowing  robe  and  hair,  who  called 
her  by  her  name,  and  thus  addressed  her:  "Brave  and 
generous  Bradamante,  know  that  it  is  a  power  from 
above  that  has  brought  you  hither.  The  spirit  of  Mer- 
lin, whose  last  earthly  abode  was  in  this  place,  has 
warned  me  of  your  arrival,  and  of  the  fate  that  awaits 
you.  This  famous  grotto,"  she  continued,  "was  the 


BRAD  AM  ANTE  AND  ROGERO  715 

work  of  the  enchanter  Merlin;  here  his  ashes  repose. 
You  have  no  doubt  heard  how  this  sage  and  virtuous 
enchanter  ceased  to  be.  Victim  of  the  artful  fairy  of 
the  lake,  Merlin,  by  a  fatal  compliance  with  her  request, 
laid  himself  down  living  in  his  tomb,  without  power  to 
resist  the  spell  laid  upon  him  by  that  ingrate,  who  re- 
tained him  there  as  long  as  he  lived.  His  spirit  hovers 
about  this  spot,  and  will  not  leave  it,  until  the  last 
trumpet  shall  summon  the  dead  to  judgment.  He  an- 
swers the  questions  of  those  who  approach  his  tomb, 
where  perhaps  you  may  be  privileged  to  hear  his  voice." 

Bradamante,  astonished  at  these  words,  and  the  ob- 
jects which  met  her  view,  knew  not  whether  she  was 
awake  or  asleep.  Confused,  but  modest,  she  cast  down 
her  eyes,  and  a  blush  overspread  her  face.  "Ah,  what 
am  I,"  said  she,  "that  so  great  a  prophet  should  deign 
to  speak  to  me !"  Still,  with  a  secret  satisfaction,  she 
followed  the  priestess,  who  led  her  to  the  tomb  of  Mer- 
lin. This  tomb  was  constructed  of  a  species  of  stone 
hard  and  resplendent  like  fire.  The  rays  which  beamed 
from  the  stone  sufficed  to  light  up  that  terrible  place, 
where  the  sun's  rays  never  penetrated ;  but  I  know  not 
whether  that  light  was  the  effect  of  a  certain  phospho- 
rescence of  the  stone  itself,  or  of  the  many  talismans 
and  charms  with  which  it  was  wrought  over. 

Bradamante  had  hardly  passed  the  threshold  of  thi? 
sacred  place  when  the  spirit  of  the  enchanter  saluted 
her  with  a  voice  firm  and  distinct :  "May  thy  designs 
be  prosperous,  O  chaste  and  noble  maiden,  the  future 
mother  of  heroes,  the  glory  of  Italy,  and  destined  to 
fill  the  whole  world  with  their  fame.  Great  captains, 
renowned  knights,  shall  be  numbered  among  your  de- 
scendants, who  shall  defend  the  Church  and  restore  their 
country  to  its  ancient  splendor.  Princes,  wise  as  Augus- 
tus and  the  sage  Numa,  shall  bring  back  the  age  of 
gold.1  To  accomplish  these  grand  destinies  it  is  or- 
dained that  you  shall  wed  the  illustrious  Rogero.  Fly 
then  to  his  deliverance,  and  lay  prostrate  in  the  dust  the 

1  This  prophecy  is  introduced  by  Ariosto  in  this  place  to  compliment 
the  noble  house  of  Este,  the  princes  of  his  native  state,  the  dukedom  of 
Ferrara. 


716  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

traitor  who  has  snatched  him  from  you,  and  now  holds 
him  in  chains !" 

Merlin  ceased  with  these  words,  and  left  to  Melissa, 
the  priestess,  the  charge  of  more  fully  instructing  the 
maiden  in  her  future  course.  "To-morrow,"  said  she, 
"I  will  conduct  you  to  the  castle  on  the  rock  where 
Rogero  is  held  captive.  I  will  not  leave  you  till  I  have 
guided  you  through  this  wild  wood,  and  I  will  direct  you 
on  your  way  so  that  you  shall  be  in  no  danger  of  mis- 
taking it." 

The  next  morning  Melissa  conducted  Bradamante  be- 
tween rocks  and  precipices,  crossing  rapid  torrents,  and 
traversing  intricate  passes,  employing  the  time  in  im- 
parting to  her  such  information  as  was  necessary  to 
enable  her  to  bring  her  design  to  a  successful  issue. 

"Not  only  would  the  castle,  impenetrable  by  force, 
and  that  winged  horse  of  his  baffle  your  efforts,  but 
know  that  he  possesses  also  a  buckler  whence  flashes  a 
light  so  brilliant  that  the  eyes  of  all  who  look  upon  it 
are  blinded.  Think  not  to  avoid  it  by  shutting  your 
eyes,  for  how  then  will  you  be  able  to  avoid  his  blows, 
and  make  him  feel  your  own?  But  I  will  teach  you  the 
proper  course  to  pursue. 

"Agramant,  the  Moorish  prince,  possesses  a  ring 
stolen  from  a  queen  of  India,  which  has  power  to  render 
of  no  avail  all  enchantments.  Agramant,  knowing  that 
Rogero  is  of  more  importance  to  him  than  any  one  of 
his  warriors,  is  desirous  of  rescuing  him  from  the 
power  of  the  enchanter,  and  has  sent  for  that  purpose 
Brunello,  the  most  crafty  and  sagacious  of  his  servants, 
provided  with  his  wonderful  ring,  and  he  is  even  now 
at  hand,  bent  on  this  enterprise.  But,  beautiful  Brada- 
mante, as  I  desire  that  no  one  but  yourself  shall  have 
the  glory  of  delivering  from  thraldom  your  future 
spouse,  listen  while  I  disclose  the  means  of  success. 
Following  this  path  which  leads  by  the  seashore,  you 
will  come  ere  long  to  a  hostelry,  where  the  Saracen  Bru- 
nello will  arrive  shortly  before  you.  You  will  readily 
know  him  by  his  stature,  under  four  feet,  his  great  dis- 
proportioned  head,  his  squint  eyes,  his  livid  hue,  his 
thick  eyebrows  joining  his  tufted  beard.  His  dress, 


BRADAMANTE  AND  ROGERO  717 

moreover,  that  of  a  courier,  will  point  him  out  to 
you. 

"It  will  be  easy  for  you  to  enter  into  conversation 
with  him,  announcing  yourself  as  a  knight  seeking  com- 
bat with  the  enchanter,  but  let  not  the  knave  suspect 
that  you  know  anything  about  the  ring.  I  doubt  not 
that  he  will  be  your  guide  to  the  castle  of  the  enchanter. 
Accept  his  offer,  but  take  care  to  keep  behind  him  till 
you  come  in  sight  of  the  brilliant  dome  of  the  castle. 
Then  hesitate  not  to  strike  him  dead,  for  the  wretch 
deserves  no  pity,  and  take  from  him  the  ring.  But  let 
him  not  suspect  your  intention,  for  by  putting  the  ring 
into  his  mouth  he  will  instantly  become  invisible,  and 
disappear  from  your  eyes." 

Saying  thus,  the  sage  Melissa  and  the  fair  Brada- 
mante  arrived  near  the  city  of  Bordeaux,  where  the  rich 
and  wide  river  Garonne  pours  the  tribute  of  its  waves 
into  the  sea.  They  parted  with  tender  embraces. 
Bradamante,  intent  wholly  on  her  purpose,  hastened  to 
arrive  at  the  hostelry,  where  Brunello  had  preceded  her 
a  few  moments  only.  The  young  heroine  knew  him 
without  difficulty.  She  accosted  him,  and  put  to  him 
some  slight  questions,  to  which  he  replied  with  adroit 
falsehoods.  Bradamante,  on  her  part,  concealed  from 
him  her  sex,  her  religion,  her  country,  and  the  blood 
from  whence  she  sprung.  While  they  talk  together, 
sudden  cries  are  heard  from  all  parts  of  the  hostelry. 
"O  queen  of  heaven!"  exclaimed  Bradamante,  "what 
can  be  the  cause  of  this  sudden  alarm?"  She  soon 
learned  the  cause.  Host,  children,  domestics,  all,  with 
upturned  eyes,  as  if  they  saw  a  comet  or  a  great  eclipse, 
were  gazing  on  a  prodigy  which  seemed  to  pass  the 
bounds  of  possibility.  She  beheld  distinctly  a  winged 
horse,  mounted  with  a  cavalier  in  rich  armor,  cleaving 
the  air  with  rapid  flight.  The  wings  of  this  strange 
courser  were  wide  extended,  and  covered  with  feathers 
of  various  colors.  The  polished  armor  of  the  knight 
made  them  shine  with  rainbow  tints.  In  a  short  time 
the  horse  and  rider  disappeared  behind  the  summits  of 
the  mountains. 

"It  is  an  enchanter,"  said  the  host,  "a  magician  who 


718  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

often  is  seen  traversing  the  air  in  that  way.  Sometimes 
he  flies  aloft  as  if  among  the  stars,  and  at  others  skims 
along  the  land.  He  possesses  a  wonderful  castle  on  the 
top  of  the  Pyrenees.  Many  knights  have  shown  their 
courage  by  going  to  attack  him,  but  none  have  ever 
returned,  from  which  it  is  to  be  feared  they  have  lost 
either  their  life  or  their  liberty/' 

Bradamante,  addressing  the  host,  said,  "Could  you 
furnish  me  a  guide  to  conduct  me  to  the  castle  of  this 
enchanter?"  "By  my  faith,"  said  Brunello,  interrupt- 
ing, "that  you  shall  not  seek  in  vain ;  I  have  it  all  in 
writing,  and  I  will  myself  conduct  you."  Bradamante, 
with  thanks,  accepted  him  for  her  guide. 

The  host  had  a  tolerable  horse  to  dispose  of,  which 
Bradamante  bargained  for,  and  the  next  day,  at  the  first 
dawn  of  morning,  she  took  her  route  by  a  narrow  val- 
ley, taking  care  to  have  the  Saracen  Brunello  lead  the 
way. 

They  reached  the  summit  of  the  Pyrenees,  whence 
one  may  look  down  on  France,  Spain,  and  the  two  seas. 
From  this  height  they  descended  again  by  a  fatiguing 
road  into  a  deep  valley.  From  the  middle  of  this  valley 
an  isolated  mountain  rose,  composed  of  rough  and  per- 
pendicular rock,  on  whose  summit  was  the  castle,  sur- 
rounded with  a  wall  of  brass.  Brunello  said,  "Yonder 
is  the  stronghold  where  the  enchanter  keeps  his  prison- 
ers; one  must  have  wings  to  mount  thither;  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  aid  of  a  flying  horse  must  be  necessary 
for  the  master  of  this  castle,  which  he  uses  for  his  prison 
and  for  his  abode." 

Bradamante,  sufficiently  instructed,  saw  that  the  time 
had  now  come  to  possess  herself  of  the  ring;  but  she 
could  not  resolve  to  slay  a  defenceless  man.  She  seized 
Brunello  before  he  was  aware,  bound  him  to  a  tree,  and 
took  from  him  the  ring  which  he  wore  on  one  of  his 
fingers.  The  cries  and  entreaties  of  the  perfidious  Sara- 
cen moved  her  not.  She  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
rock  whereon  the  castle  stood,  and,  to  draw  the  magician 
to  the  combat,  sounded  her  horn,  adding  to  it  cries  of 
defiance. 

The    enchanter    delayed    not     to     present    himself, 


BRADAMANTE  AND  ROGERO  719 

mounted  on  his  winged  horse.  Bradamante  was  struck 
with  surprise  mixed  with  joy  when  she  saw  that  this 
person,  described  as  so  formidable,  bore  no  lance  nor 
club,  nor  any  other  deadly  weapon.  He  had  only  on 
his  arm  a  buckler,  covered  with  a  cloth,  and  in  his  hand 
an  open  book.  As  to  the  winged  horse,  there  was  no 
enchantment  about  him.  He  was  a  natural  animal,  of  a 
species  which  exists  in  the  Riphaean  mountains.  Like  a 
griffin,  he  had  the  head  of  an  eagle,  claws  armed  with 
talons,  and  wings  covered  with  feathers,  the  rest  of  his 
body  being  that  of  a  horse.  This  strange  animal  is 
called  a  Hippogriff. 

The  heroine  attacked  the  enchanter  on  his  approach, 
striking  on  this  side  and  on  that,  with  all  the  energy  of 
a  violent  combat,  but  wounding  only  the  wind ;  and  after 
this  pretended  attack  had  lasted  some  time  dismounted 
from  her  horse,  as  if  hoping  to  do  battle  more  effectu- 
ally on  foot.  The  enchanter  now  prepares  to  employ 
his  sole  weapon,  by  uncovering  the  magic  buckler  which 
never  failed  to  subdue  an  enemy  by  depriving  him  of  his 
senses.  Bradamante,  confiding  in  her  ring,  observed  all 
the  motions  of  her  adversary,  and,  at  the  unveiling  of 
the  shield,  cast  herself  on  the  ground,  pretending  that  the 
splendor  of  the  shield  had  overcome  her,  but  in  reality 
to  induce  the  enchanter  to  dismount  and  approach  her. 

It  happened  according  to  her  wish.  When  the  en- 
chanter saw  her  prostrate  he  made  his  horse  alight  on 
the  ground,  and,  dismounting,  fixed  the  shield  on  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle,  and  approached  in  order  to  secure 
the  fallen  warrior.  Bradamante,  who  watched  him  in- 
tently, as  soon  as  she  saw  him  near  at  hand,  sprang  up, 
seized  him  vigorously,  threw  him  down,  and,  with  the 
same  chain  which  the  enchanter  had  prepared  for  her- 
self, bound  him  fast,  without  his  being  able  to  make  any 
effectual  resistance. 

The  enchanter,  with  the  accents  of  despair,  exclaimed, 
"Take  my  life,  young  man!"  but  Bradamante  was  far 
from  complying  with  such  a  wish.  Desirous  of  knowing 
the  name  of  the  enchanter,  and  for  what  purpose  he 
had  formed  with  so  much  art  this  impregnable  fortress, 
she  commanded  him  to  inform  her. 


720  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"Alas !"  replied  the  magician,  while  tears  flowed  down 
his  cheeks,  "it  is  not  to  conceal  booty,  nor  for  any  cul- 
pable design  that  I  have  built  this  castle ;  it  was  only  to 
guard  the  life  of  a  young  knight,  the  object  of  my  ten- 
derest  affection,  my  art  having  taught  me  that  he  is 
destined  to  become  a  Christian,  and  to  perish,  shortly 
after,  by  the  blackest  of  treasons. 

"This  youth,  named  Rogero,  is  the  most  beautiful  and 
most  accomplished  of  knights.  It  is  I,  the  unhappy  At- 
lantes,  who  have  reared  him  from  his  childhood.  The 
call  of  honor  and  the  desire  of  glory  led  him  from  me 
to  follow  Agramant,  his  prince,  in  his  invasion  of 
France,  and  I,  more  devoted  to  Rogero  than  the  ten- 
derest  of  parents,  have  sought  the  means  of  bringing 
him  back  to  this  abode,  in  the  hope  of  saving  him  from 
the  cruel  fate  that  menaces  him. 

"For  this  purpose  I  have  got  him  in  my  possession 
by  the  same  means  as  I  attempted  to  employ  against 
you;  and  by  which  I  have  succeeded  in  collecting  a 
great  many  knights  and  ladies  in  my  castle.  My  pur- 
pose was  to  render  my  beloved  pupil's  captivity  light, 
by  affording  him  society  to  amuse  him,  and  keep  his 
thoughts  from  running  on  subjects  of  war  and  glory. 
Alas!  my  cares  have  been  in  vain!  Yet,  take,  I  be- 
seech you,  whatever  else  I  have,  but  spare  me  my  be- 
loved pupil.  Take  this  shield,  take  this  winged  courser, 
deliver  such  of  your  friends  as  you  may  find  among  my 
prisoners,  deliver  them  all  if  you  will,  but  leave  me  my 
beloved  Rogero ;  or  if  you  will  snatch  him  too  from  me, 
take  also  my  life,  which  will  cease  then  to  be  to  me 
worth  preserving." 

Bradamante  replied :  "Old  man,  hope  not  to  move  me 
by  your  vain  entreaties.  It  is  precisely  the  liberty  of 
Rogero  that  I  require.  You  would  keep  him  here  in 
bondage  and  in  slothful  pleasure,  to  save  him  from  a 
fate  which  you  foresee.  Vain  old  man!  how  can  you 
foresee  his  fate  when  you  could  not  foresee  your  own? 
You  desire  me  to  take  your  life.  No,  my  arm  and  my 
soul  refuse  the  request."  This  said,  she  required  the 
magician  to  go  before,  and  guide  her  to  the  castle.  The 
prisoners  were  set  at  liberty,  though  some,  in  their  se- 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     721 

cret  hearts,  regretted  the  voluptuous  life  which  was  thus 
brought  to  an  end.  Bradamante  and  Rogero  met  one 
another  with  transports  of  joy. 

They  descended  from  the  mountain  to  the  spot  where 
the  encounter  had  taken  place.  There  they  found  the 
Hippogriff,  with  the  magic  buckler  in  its  wrapper,  hang- 
ing to  his  saddle-bow.  Bradamante  advanced  to  seize 
the  bridle ;  the  Hippogriff  seemed  to  wait  her  approach, 
but  before  she  reached  him  he  spread  his  wings  and 
flew  away  to  a  neighboring  hill,  and  in  the  same  man- 
ner, a  second  time,  eluded  her  efforts.  Rogero  and  the 
other  liberated  knights  dispersed  over  the  plain  and  hill- 
tops to  secure  him,  and  at  last  the  animal  allowed 
Rogero  to  seize  his  rein.  The  fearless  Rogero  hesitated 
not  to  vault  upon  his  back,  and  let  him  feel  his  spurs, 
which  so  roused  his  mettle  that,  after  galloping  a  short 
distance,  he  suddenly  spread  his  wings,  and  soared  into 
the  air.  Bradamante  had  the  grief  to  see  her  lover 
snatched  away  from  her  at  the  very  moment  of  reunion. 
Rogero,  who  knew  not  the  art  of  directing  the  horse, 
was  unable  to  control  his  flight.  He  found  himself 
carried  over  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  so  far  above 
them  that  he  could  hardly  distinguish  what  was  land  and 
what  water.  The  Hippogriff  directed  his  flight  to  the 
west,  and  cleaved  the  air  as  swiftly  as  a  new-rigged 
vessel  cuts  the  waves,  impelled  by  the  freshest  and  most 
favorable  gales. 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS 

IN  the  long  flight  which  Rogero  took  on  the  back  of 
the  Hippogriff  he  was  carried  over  land  and  sea,  un- 
knowing whither.  As  soon  as  he  had  gained  some  con- 
trol over  the  animal  he  made  him  alight  on  the  nearest 
land.  When  he  came  near  enough  to  earth  Rogero 
leapt  lightly  from  his  back,  and  tied  the  animal  to  a 
myrtle-tree.  Near  the  spot  flowed  the  pure  waters  of 
a  fountain,  surrounded  by  cedars  and  palm-trees.  Rogero 
laid  aside  his  shield,  and,  removing  his  helmet,  breathed 


722  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

with  delight  the  fresh  air,  and  cooled  his  lips  with 
the  waters  of  the  fountain.  For  we  cannot  wonder 
that  he  was  excessively  fatigued,  considering  the  ride  he 
had  taken.  He  was  preparing  to  taste  the  sweets  of 
repose  when  he  perceived  that  the  Hippogriff,  which  he 
had  tied  by  the  bridle  to  a  myrtle-tree,  frightened  at 
something,  was  making  violent  efforts  to  disengage  him- 
self. His  struggle  shook  the  myrtle-tree  so  that  many 
of  its  beautiful  leaves  were  torn  off,  and  strewed  the 
ground. 

A  sound  like  that  which  issues  from  burning  wood 
seemed  to  come  from  the  myrtle-tree,  at  first  faint  and 
indistinct,  but  growing  stronger  by  degrees,  and  at  length 
was  audible  as  a  voice  which  spoke  in  this  manner : 
"O  knight,  if  the  tenderness  of  your  heart  corresponds 
to  the  beauty  of  your  person,  relieve  me,  I  pray  you, 
from  this  tormenting  animal.  I  suffer  enough  inwardly 
without  having  outward  evils  added  to  my  lot." 

Rogero,  at  the  first  accents  of  this  voice,  turned  his 
eyes  promptly  on  the  myrtle,  hastened  to  it,  and  stood 
fixed  in  astonishment  when  he  perceived  that  the  voice 
issued  from  the  tree  itself.  He  immediately  untied  his 
horse,  and,  flushed  with  surprise  and  regret,  exclaimed, 
"Whoever  thou  art,  whether  mortal  or  the  goddess  of 
these  woods,  forgive  me,  I  beseech  you,  my  involuntary 
fault.  Had  I  imagined  that  this  hard  bark  covered  a 
being  possessed  of  feeling,  could  I  have  exposed  such 
a  beautiful  myrtle  to  the  insults  of  this  steed?  May 
the  sweet  influences  of  the  sky  and  air  speedily  repair 
the  injury  I  have  done!  For  my  part,  I  promise  by 
the  sovereign  lady  of  my  heart  to  do  everything  you 
wish  in  order  to  merit  your  forgiveness/' 

At  these  words  the  myrtle  seemed  to  tremble  from 
root  to  stem,  and  Rogero  remarked  that  a  moisture  as 
of  tears  trickled  down  its  bark,  like  that  which  exudes 
from  a  log  placed  on  the  fire.  It  then  spoke: 

"The  kindness  which  inspires  your  words  compels  me 
to  disclose  to  you  who  I  once  was,  and  by  what  fatality 
I  have  been  changed  into  this  shape.  My  name  was 
Astolpho,  cousin  of  Orlando  and  Rinaldo,  whose  fame 
has  filled  the  earth.  I  was  myself  reckoned  among  the 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     723 

bravest  paladins  of  France,  and  was  by  birth  entitled 
to  reign  over  England,  after  Otho,  my  father.  Return- 
ing from  the  distant  East,  with  Rinaldo  and  many  other 
brave  knights,  called  home  to  aid  with  our  arms  the 
great  Emperor  of  France,  we  reached  a  spot  where  the 
powerful  enchantress  Alcina  possessed  a  castle  on  the 
borders  of  the  sea.  She  had  gone  to  the  water-side  to 
amuse  herself  with  fishing,  and  we  paused  to  see  how, 
by  her  art,  without  hook  or  line,  she  drew  from  the 
water  whatever  she  would. 

"Not  far  from  the  shore  an  enormous  whale  showed 
a  back  so  broad  and  motionless  that  it  looked  like  an 
island.  Alcina  had  fixed  her  eyes  on  me,  and  planned 
to  get  me  into  her  power.  Addressing  us,  she  said: 
'This  is  the  hour  when  the  prettiest  mermaid  in  the  sea 
comes  regularly  every  day  to  the  shore  of  yonder  island. 
She  sings  so  sweetly  that  the  very  waves  flow  smoother 
at  the  sound.  If  you  wish  to  hear  her  come  with  me 
to  her  resort/  So  saying,  Alcina  pointed  to  the  fish, 
which  we  all  supposed  to  be  an  island.  I,  who  was 
rash,  did  not  hesitate  to  follow  her ;  but  swam  my  horse 
over,  and  mounted  on  the  back  of  the  fish.  In  vain 
Rinaldo  and  Dudon  made  signs  to  me  to  beware ;  Alcina, 
smiling,  took  me  in  charge,  and  led  the  way.  No  sooner 
were  we  mounted  upon  him  than  the  whale  moved  off, 
spreading  his  great  fins,  and  cleft  rapidly  the  waters.  I 
then  saw  my  folly,  but  it  was  too  late  to  repent.  Alcina 
soothed  my  anger,  and  professed  that  what  she  had 
done  was  for  love  of  me.  Ere  long  we  arrived  at  this 
island,  where  at  first  everything  was  done  to  reconcile 
me  to  my  lot,  and  to  make  my  days  pass  happily  away. 
But  soon  Alcina,  sated  with  her  conquest,  grew  indiffer- 
ent, then  weary  of  me,  and  at  last,  to  get  rid  of  me, 
changed  me  into  this  form,  as  she  had  done  to  many 
lovers  before  me,  making  some  of  them  olives,  some 
palms,  some  cedars,  changing  others  into  fountains, 
rocks,  or  even  into  wild  beasts.  And  thou,  courteous 
knight,  whom  accident  has  brought  to  this  enchanted 
isle,  beware  that  she  get  not  the  power  over  thee,  or 
thou  shalt  haply  be  made  like  us,  a  tree,  a  fountain,  or 
a  rock." 


724  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Rogero  expressed  his  astonishment  at  this  recital.  As- 
tolpho  added  that  the  island  was  in  great  part  subject 
to  the  sway  of  Alcina.  By  the  aid  of  her  sister  Mor- 
gana, she  had  succeeded  in  dispossessing  a  third  sister, 
Logestilla,  of  nearly  the  whole  of  her  patrimony,  for 
the  whole  isle  was  hers  originally  by  her  father's  be- 
quest. But  Logestilla  was  temperate  and  sage,  while 
the  other  sisters  were  false  and  voluptuous.  Her  em- 
pire was  divided  from  theirs  by  a  gulf  and  chain  of 
mountains,  which  alone  had  thus  far  prevented  her  sis- 
ter from  usurping  it. 

Astolpho  here  ended  his  tale,  and  Rogero,  who  knew 
that  he  was  the  cousin  of  Bradamante,  would  gladly 
have  devised  some  way  for  his  relief;  but,  as  that 
was  out  of  his  power,  he  consoled  him  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  then  begged  to  be  told  the  way  to  the  palace 
of  Logestilla,  and  how  to  avoid  that  of  Alcina.  Astolpho 
directed  him  to  take  the  road  to  the  left,  though  rough 
and  full  of  rocks.  He  warned  him  that  this  road  would 
present  serious  obstacles ;  that  troops  of  monsters  would 
oppose  his  passage,  employed  by  the  art  of  Alcina  to 
prevent  her  subjects  from  escaping  from  her  dominion. 
Rogero  thanked  the  myrtle,  and  prepared  to  set  out  on 
his  way. 

He  at  first  thought  he  would  mount  the  winged  horse, 
and  scale  the  mountain  on  his  back;  but  he  was  too 
uncertain  of  his  power  to  control  him  to  wish  to  en- 
counter the  hazard  of  another  flight  through  the  air, 
besides  that  he  was  almost  famished  for  the  want  of 
food.  So  he  led  the  horse  after  him,  and  took  the  road 
on  foot,  which  for  some  distance  led  equally  to  the 
dominions  of  both  the  sisters. 

He  had  not  advanced  more  than  two  miles  when  he 
saw  before  him  the  superb  city  of  Alcina.  It  was  sur- 
rounded with  a  wall  of  gold,  which  seemed  to  reach  the 
skies.  I  know  that  some  think  that  this  wall  was  not 
of  real  gold,  but  only  the  work  of  alchemy;  it  matters 
not;  I  prefer  to  think  it  gold,  for  it  certainly  shone  like 
gold. 

A  broad  and  level  road  led  to  the  gates  of  the  city, 
and  from  this  another  branched  off,  narrow  and  rough, 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     725 

which  led  to  the  mountain  region.  Rogero  took  with- 
out hesitation  the  narrow  road;  but  he  had  no  sooner 
entered  upon  it  than  he  was  assailed  by  a  numerous 
troop  which  opposed  his  passage. 

You  never  have  seen  anything  so  ridiculous,  so  ex- 
traordinary, as  this  host  of  hobgoblins  were.  Some  of 
them  bore  the  human  form  from  the  neck  to  the  feet, 
but  had  the  head  of  a  monkey  or  a  cat;  others  had  the 
legs  and  the  ears  of  a  horse;  old  men  and  women, 
bald  and  hideous,  ran  hither  and  thither  as  if  out  of 
their  senses,  half  clad  in  the  shaggy  skins  of  beasts ;  one 
rode  full  speed  on  a  horse  without  a  bridle,  another 
jogged  along  mounted  on  an  ass  or  a  cow;  others,  full 
of  agility,  skipped  about,  and  clung  to  the  tails  and  manes 
of  the  animals  which  their  companions  rode.  Some  blew 
horns,  others  brandished  drinking-cups ;  some  were 
armed  with  spits,  and  some  with  pitchforks.  One,  who 
appeared  to  be  the  captain,  had  an  enormous  belly  and 
a  gross  fat  head;  he  was  mounted  on  a  tortoise,  that 
waddled,  now  this  way,  now  that,  without  keeping  any 
one  direction. 

One  of  these  monsters,  who  had  something  approach- 
ing the  human  form,  though  he  had  the  neck,  ears,  and 
muzzle  of  a  dog,  set  himself  to  bark  furiously  at  Rogero, 
to  make  him  turn  off  to  the  right,  and  reenter  upon  the 
road  to  the  gay  city;  but  the  brave  chevalier  exclaimed, 
"That  will  I  not,  so  long  as  I  can  use  this  sword/* — and 
he  thrust  the  point  directly  at  his  face.  The  monster 
tried  to  strike  him  with  a  lance,  but  Rogero  was  too 
quick  for  him,  and  thrust  his  sword  through  his  body, 
so  that  it  appeared  a  hand's  breadth  behind  his  back. 
The  paladin,  now  giving  full  vent  to  his  rage,  laid  about 
him  vigorously  among  the  rabble,  cleaving  one  to  the 
teeth,  another  to  the  girdle;  but  the  troop  were  so  nu- 
merous, and  in  spite  of  his  blows  pressed  around  him 
so  close,  that,  to  clear  his  way,  he  must  have  had  as 
many  arms  as  Briareus. 

If  Rogero  had  uncovered  the  shield  of  the  enchanter, 
which  hung  at  his  saddle-bow,  he  might  easily  have  van- 
quished this  monstrous  rout;  but  perhaps  he  did  not 
think  of  it,  and  perhaps  he  preferred  to  seek  his  defence 


726  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

nowhere  but  in  his  good  sword.  At  that  moment,  when 
his  perplexity  was  at  its  height,  he  saw  issue  from 
the  city  gate  two  young  beauties,  whose  air  and  dress 
proclaimed  their  rank  and  gentle  nurture.  Each  of 
them  was  mounted  on  a  unicorn,  whose  whiteness  sur- 
passed that  of  ermine.  They  advanced  to  the  meadow 
where  Rogero  was  contending  so  valiantly  against  the 
hobgoblins,  who  all  retired  at  their  approach.  They  drew 
near,  they  extended  their  hands  to  the  young  warrior, 
whose  cheeks  glowed  with  the  flush  of  exercise  and  mod- 
esty. Grateful  for  their  assistance,  he  expressed  his 
thanks,  and,  having  no  heart  to  refuse  them,  followed 
their  guidance  to  the  gate  of  the  city. 

This  grand  and  beautiful  entrance  was  adorned  by  a 
portico  of  four  vast  columns,  all  of  diamond.  Whether 
they  were  real  diamond  or  artificial  I  cannot  say.  What 
matter  is  it,  so  long  as  they  appeared  to  the  eye  like 
diamond,  and  nothing  could  be  more  gay  and  splendid. 

On  the  threshold,  and  between  the  columns,  was  seen 
a  bevy  of  charming  young  women,  who  played  and 
frolicked  together.  They  all  ran  to  receive  Rogero,  and 
conducted  him  into  the  palace,  which  appeared  like  a 
paradise. 

We  might  well  call  by  that  name  this  abode,  where 
the  hours  flew  by,  without  account,  in  ever-new  delights. 
The  bare  idea  of  satiety,  want,  and,  above  all,  of  age, 
never  entered  the  minds  of  the  inhabitants.  They  ex- 
perienced no  sensations  except  those  of  luxury  and 
fayety;  the  cup  of  happiness  seemed  for  them  ever- 
owing  and  exhaustless.  The  two  young  damsels  to 
whom  Rogero  owed  his  deliverance  from  the  hobgoblins 
conducted  him  to  the  apartment  of  their  mistress.  The 
beautiful  Alcina  advanced,  and  greeted  him  with  an  air 
at  once  dignified  and  courteous.  All  her  court  sur- 
rounded the  paladin,  and  rendered  him  the  most  flat- 
tering attentions.  The  castle  was  less  admirable  for  its 
magnificence  than  for  the  charms  of  those  who  inhabited 
it.  They  were  of  either  sex,  well  matched  in  beauty, 
youth,  and  grace;  but  among  this  charming  group  the 
brilliant  Alcina  shone,  as  the  sun  outshines  the  stars. 
The  young  warrior  was  fascinated.  All  that  he  had 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     727 

heard  from  the  myrtle-tree  appeared  to  him  but  a  vile 
calumny.  How  could  he  suspect  that  falsehood  and 
treason  veiled  themselves  under  smiles  and  the  ingenuous 
air  of  truth?  He  doubted  not  that  Astolpho  had  de- 
served his  fate,  and  perhaps  a  punishment  more  severe; 
he  regarded  all  his  stories  as  dictated  by  a  disappointed 
spirit,  and  a  thirst  for  revenge.  But  we  must  not  con- 
demn Rogero  too  harshly,  for  he  was  the  victim  of  magic 
power. 

They  seated  themselves  at  table,  and  immediately  har- 
monious lyres  and  harps  waked  the  air  with  the  most 
ravishing  notes.  The  charms  of  poetry  were  added  in 
entertaining  recitals ;  the  magnificence  of  the  feast  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  royal  board.  The  traitress  for- 
got nothing  which  might  charm  the  paladin,  and  attach 
him  to  the  spot,  meaning,  when  she  should  grow  tired 
of  him,  to  metamorphose  him  as  she  had  done  others. 
In  the  same  manner  passed  each  succeeding  day.  Games 
of  pleasant  exercise,  the  chase,  the  dance,  or  rural  sports, 
made  the  hours  pass  quickly;  while  they  gave  zest  to 
the  refreshment  of  the  bath,  or  sleep. 

Thus  Rogero  led  a  life  of  ease  and  luxury,  while 
Charlemagne  and  Agramant  were  struggling  for  empire. 
But  I  cannot  linger  with  him  while  the  amiable  and 
courageous  Bradamante  is  night  and  day  directing  her 
uncertain  steps  to  every  spot  where  the  slightest  chance 
invites  her,  in  the  hope  of  recovering  Rogero. 

I  will  therefore  say  that,  having  sought  him  in  vain 
in  fields  and  in  cities,  she  knew  not  whither  next  to 
direct  her  steps.  She  did  not  apprehend  the  death  of 
Rogero.  The  fall  of  such  a  hero  would  have  reechoed 
from  the  Hydaspes  to  the  farthest  river  of  the  West; 
but,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  on  the  earth  or  in 
the  air,  she  concluded,  as  a  last  resource,  to  return  to 
the  cavern  which  contained  the  tomb  of  Merlin,  to  ask 
of  him  some  sure  direction  to  the  object  of  her  search. 

While  this  thought  occupied  her  mind,  Melissa,  the 
sage  enchantress,  suddenly  appeared  before  her.  This 
virtuous  and  beneficent  magician  had  discovered  by  her 
spells  that  Rogero  was  passing  his  time  in  pleasure 
and  idleness,  forgetful  of  his  honor  and  his  sovereign. 


728  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Not  able  to  endure  the  thought  that  one  who  was  born 
to  be  a  hero  should  waste  his  years  in  base  repose,  and 
leave  a  sullied  reputation  in  the  memory  of  survivors, 
she  saw  that  vigorous  measures  must  be  employed  to 
draw  him  forth  into  the  paths  of  virtue.  Melissa  was 
not  blinded  by  her  affection  for  the  amiable  paladin, 
like  Atlantes,  who,  intent  only  on  preserving  Rogero's 
life,  cared  nothing  for  his  fame.  It  was  that  old  en- 
chanter whose  arts  had  guided  the  Hippogriff  to  the 
isle  of  the  too  charming  Alcina,  where  he  hoped  his 
favorite  would  learn  to  forget  honor,  and  lose  the  love 
of  glory. 

At  the  sight  of  Melissa  joy  lighted  up  the  counte- 
nance of  Bradamante,  and  hope  animated  her  breast. 
Melissa  concealed  nothing  from  her,  but  told  her  how 
Rogero  was  in  the  toils  of  Alcina.  Bradamante  was 
plunged  in  grief  and  terror;  but  the  kind  enchantress 
calmed  her,  dispelled  her  fears,  and  promised  that  before 
many  days  she  would  lead  back  the  paladin  to  her  feet. 

"My  daughter,"  she  said,  "give  me  the  ring  which 
you  wear,  and  which  possesses  the  power  to  overcome 
enchantments.  By  means  of  it  I  doubt  not  but  that 
I  may  enter  the  stronghold  where  the  false  Alcina  holds 
Rogero  in  durance,  and  may  succeed  in  vanquishing  her 
and  liberating  him."  Bradamante  unhesitatingly  deliv- 
ered her  the  ring,  recommending  Rogero  to  her  best 
efforts.  Melissa  then  summoned  by  her  art  a  huge  pal- 
frey, black  as  jet,  excepting  one  foot,  which  was  bay. 
Mounted  upon  this  animal,  she  rode  with  such  speed  that 
by  the  next  morning  she  had  reached  the  abode  of 
Alcina. 

She  here  transformed  herself  into  the  perfect  resem- 
blance of  the  old  magician  Atlantes,  adding  a  palm- 
breadth  to  her  height,  and  enlarging  her  whole  figure. 
Her  chin  she  covered  with  a  long  beard,  and  seamed 
her  whole  visage  well  with  wrinkles.  She  assumed  also 
his  voice  and  manner,  and  watched  her  chance  to  find 
Rogero  alone.  At  last  she  found  him,  dressed  in  a  rich 
tunic  of  silk  and  gold,  a  collar  of  precious  stones  about 
his  neck,  and  his  arms,  once  so  rough  with  exercise, 
decorated  with  bracelets.  His  air  and  his  every  mo- 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     729 

tion  indicated  effeminacy,  and  he  seemed  to  retain  noth- 
ing of  Rogero  but  the  name;  such  power  had  the  en- 
chantress obtained  over  him. 

Melissa,  under  the  form  of  his  old  instructor,  pre- 
sented herself  before  him,  wearing  a  stern  and  serious 
visage.  "Is  this,  then/'  she  said,  "the  fruit  of  all  my 
labors?  Is  it  for  this  that  I  fed  you  on  the  marrow 
of  bears  and  lions,  that  I  taught  you  to  subdue  dragons, 
and,  like  Hercules,  strangle  serpents  in  your  youth- 
ful grasp,  only  to  make  you,  by  all  my  cares,  a  feeble 
Adonis?  My  nightly  watchings  of  the  stars,  of  the  yet 
warm  fibres  of  animals,  the  lots  I  have  cast,  the  points 
of  nativity  that  I  have  calculated,  have  they  all  falsely 
indicated  that  you  were  born  for  greatness?  Who  could 
have  believed  that  you  would  become  the  slave  of  a  base 
enchantress?  O  Rogero,  learn  to  know  this  Alcina, 
learn  to  understand  her  arts  and  to  countervail  them. 
Take  this  ring,  place  it  on  your  finger,  return  to  her 
presence,  and  see  for  yourself  what  are  her  real  charms." 

At  these  words,  Rogero,  confused,  abashed,  cast  his 
eyes  upon  the  ground,  and  knew  not  what  to  answer. 
Melissa  seized  the  moment,  slipped  the  ring  on  his  finger, 
and  the  paladin  was  himself  again.  What  a  thunder- 
clap to  him !  Overcome  by  shame,  he  dared  not  to  en- 
counter the  looks  of  his  instructor.  When  at  last  he 
raised  his  eyes  he  beheld  not  that  venerable  form,  but 
the  priestess  Melissa,  who  in  virtue  of  the  ring  now  ap- 
peared in  her  true  person.  She  told  him  of  the  motives 
which  had  led  her  to  come  to  his  rescue,  of  the  griefs 
and  regrets  of  Bradamante,  and  of  her  unwearied  search 
for  him.  "That  charming  Amazon,"  she  said,  "sends 
you  this  ring,  which  is  a  sovereign  antidote  to  all  en- 
chantments. She  would  have  sent  you  her  heart  in  my 
hands,  if  it  would  have  had  greater  power  to  serve  you." 

It  was  needless  for  Melissa  to  say  more.  Rogero's 
love  for  Alcina,  being  but  the  work  of  enchantment, 
vanished  as  soon  as  the  enchantment  was  withdrawn, 
and  he  now  hated  her  with  an  equal  intensity,  seeing  no 
longer  anything  in  her  but  her  vices,  and  feeling  only 
resentment  for  the  shame  that  she  had  put  upon  him. 

His  surprise  when  he  again  beheld  Alcina  was  no  less 


730  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

than  his  indignation.  Fortified  by  his  ring  from  her 
enchantments,  he  saw  her  as  she  was,  a  monster  of 
ugliness.  All  her  charms  were  artificial,  and,  truly 
viewed,  were  rather  deformities.  She  was,  in  fact,  older 
than  Hecuba  or  the  Sibyl  of  Cumae;  but  an  art,  which 
it  is  to  be  regretted  our  times  have  lost,  enabled  her 
to  appear  charming,  and  to  clothe  herself  in  all  the  at- 
tractions of  youth.  Rogero  now  saw  all  this,  but,  gov- 
erned by  the  counsels  of  Melissa,  he  concealed  his  sur- 
prise, assumed  under  some  pretext  his  armor,  long 
neglected,  and  bound  to  his  side  Belisarda,  his  trusty 
sword,  taking  also  the  buckler  of  Atlantes,  covered  with 
its  veil. 

He  then  selected  a  horse  from  the  stables  of  Alcina, 
without  exciting  her  suspicions ;  but  he  left  the  Hippo- 
griff,  by  the  advice  of  Melissa,  who  promised  to  take 
him  in  charge,  and  train  him  to  a  more  manageable  state. 
The  horse  he  took  was  Rabican,  which  belonged  to  As- 
tolpho.  He  restored  the  ring  to  Melissa. 

Rogero  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  met  one  of  the 
huntsmen  of  Alcina,  bearing  a  falcon  on  his  wrist,  and 
followed  by  a  dog.  The  huntsman  was  mounted  on  a 
powerful  horse,  and  came  boldly  up  to  the  paladin,  de- 
manding, in  a  somewhat  imperious  manner,  whither  he 
was  going  so  rapidly.  Rogero  disdained  to  stop  or  to 
reply;  whereupon  the  huntsman,  not  doubting  that  he 
was  about  making  his  escape,  said,  "What  if  I,  with 
my  falcon,  stop  your  ride  ?"  So  saying,  he  threw  off 
the  bird,  which  even  Rabican  could  not  equal  in  speed. 
The  huntsman  then  leapt  from  his  horse,  and  the  ani- 
mal, open-mouthed,  darted  after  Rogero  with  the  swift- 
ness of  an  arrow.  The  huntsman  also  ran  as  if  the 
wind  or  fire  bore  him,  and  the  dog  was  equal  to  Rabican 
in  swiftness.  Rogero,  finding  flight  impossible,  stopped 
and  faced  his  pursuers ;  but  his  sword  was  useless 
against  such  foes.  The  insolent  huntsman  assailed  him 
with  words,  and  struck  him  with  his  whip,  the  only 
weapon  he  had;  the  dog  bit  his  feet,  and  the  horse 
drove  at  him  with  his  hoofs.  At  the  same  time  the 
falcon  flew  over  his  head  and  over  Rabican's  and  at- 
tacked them  with  claws  and  wings,  so  that  the  horse 


ASTOLPHO  AND  THE  ENCHANTRESS     731 

in  his  fright  began  to  be  unmanageable.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  sound  of  trumpets  and  cymbals  was  heard  in 
the  valley,  and  it  was  evident  that  Alcina  had  ordered 
out  all  her  array  to  go  in  pursuit.  Rogero  felt  that 
there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  and  luckily  remembered 
the  shield  of  Atlantes,  which  he  bore  suspended  from 
his  neck.  He  unveiled  it,  and  the  charm  worked  won- 
derfully. The  huntsman,  the  dog,  the  horse,  fell  flat ;  the 
trembling  wings  of  the  falcon  could  no  longer  sustain 
her,  and  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Rogero,  rid  of 
their  annoyances,  left  them  in  their  trance,  and  rode 
away. 

Meanwhile  Alcina,  with  all  the  force  she  could  mus- 
ter, sallied  forth  from  her  palace  in  pursuit.  Melissa,  left 
behind,  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  ransack 
all  the  rooms,  protected  by  the  ring.  She  undid  one 
by  one  all  the  talismans  and  spells  which  she  found, 
broke  the  seals,  burned  the  images,  and  untied  the  hag- 
knots.  Thence,  hurrying  through  the  fields,  she  disen- 
chanted the  victims  changed  into  trees,  fountains,  stones, 
or  brutes;  all  of  whom  recovered  their  liberty,  and 
vowed  eternal  gratitude  to  their  deliverer.  They  made 
their  escape,  with  all  possible  despatch,  to  the  realms  of 
the  good  Logeslilla,  whence  they  departed  to  their  sev- 
eral homes. 

Astolpho  was  the  first  whom  Melissa  liberated,  for 
Rogero  had  particularly  recommended  him  to  her  care. 
She  aided  him  to  recover  his  arms,  and  particularly  that 
precious  golden-headed  lance  which  once  was  Argalia's. 
The  enchantress  mounted  with  him  upon  the  winged 
horse,  and  in  a  short  time  arrived  through  the  air  at  the 
castle  of  Logestilla,  where  Rogero  joined  them  soon  after. 

In  this  abode  the  friends  passed  a  short  period  of  de- 
lightful and  improving  intercourse  with  the  sage  Loges- 
tilla and  her  virtuous  court;  and  then  each  departed, 
Rogero  with  the  Hippogriff,  ring,  and  buckler;  Astolpho 
with  his  golden  lance,  and  mounted  on  Rabican,  the 
fleetest  of  steeds.  To  Rogero  Logestilla  gave  a  bit  and 
bridle  suited  to  govern  the  Hippogriff;  and  to  Astolpho 
a  horn  of  marvellous  powers,  to  be  sounded  only  when 
all  other  weapons  were  unavailing. 


732  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


THE  ORC 

WE  left  the  charming  Angelica  at  the  moment  when, 
in  her  flight  from  her  contending  lovers,  Sacripant  and 
Rinaldo,  she  met  an  aged  hermit.  We  have  seen  that 
her  request  to  the  hermit  was  to  furnish  her  the  means 
of  gaining  the  sea-coast,  eager  to  avoid  Rinaldo,  whom 
she  hated,  by  leaving  France  and  Europe  itself.  The 
pretended  hermit,  who  was  no  other  than  a  vile  magi- 
cian, knowing  well  that  it  would  not  be  agreeable  to  his 
false  gods  to  aid  Angelica  in  this  undertaking,  feigned 
to  comply  with  her  desire.  He  supplied  her  a  horse, 
into  which  he  had  by  his  arts  caused  a  subtle  devil  to 
enter,  and,  having  mounted  Angelica  on  the  animal,  di- 
rected her  what  course  to  take  to  reach  the  sea. 

Angelica  rode  on  her  way  without  suspicion,  but  when 
arrived  at  the  shore,  the  demon  urged  the  animal  head- 
long into  the  water.  Angelica  in  vain  attempted  to  turn 
him  back  to  the  land;  he  continued  his  course  till,  as 
night  approached,  he  landed  with  his  burden  on  a  sandy 
headland. 

Angelica,  finding  herself  alone,  abandoned  in  this 
frightful  solitude,  remained  without  movement,  as  if 
stupefied,  with  hands  joined  and  eyes  turned  towards 
heaven,  till  at  last,  pouring  forth  a  torrent  of  tears,  she 
exclaimed:  "Cruel  fortune,  have  you  not  yet  exhausted 
your  rage  against  me?  To  what  new  miseries  do  you 
doom  me  ?  Alas  !  then  finish  your  work !  Deliver  me  a 
prey  to  some  ferocious  beast,  or  by  whatever  fate  you 
choose  bring  me  to  an  end.  I  will  be  thankful  to  you 
for  terminating  my  life  and  my  misery."  At  last,  ex- 
hausted by  her  sorrows,  she  fell  asleep,  and  sunk  pros- 
trate on  the  sand. 

Before  recounting  what  next  befell,  we  must  declare 
what  place  it  was  upon  which  the  unhappy  lady  was 
now  thrown.  In  the  sea  that  washes  the  coast  of  Ire- 
land there  is  an  island  called  Ebuda,  whose  inhabitants, 
once  numerous,  had  been  wasted  by  the  anger  of  Proteus 
till  there  were  now  but  few  left.  This  deity  was  in- 
censed by  some  neglect  of  the  usual  honors  which  he 


THE  ORC  733 

had  in  old  times  received  from  the  inhabitants  of  the 
land,  and,  to  execute  his  vengeance,  had  sent  a  horrid 
sea-monster,  called  an  Ore,  to  devour  them.  Such  were 
the  terrors  of  his  ravages  that  the  whole  people  of  the 
isle  had  shut  themselves  up  in  the  principal  town,  and 
relied  on  their  walls  alone  to  protect  them.  In  this 
distress  they  applied  to  the  Oracle  for  advice,  and  were 
directed  to  appease  the  wrath  of  the  sea-monster  by 
offering  to  him  the  fairest  virgin  that  the  country  could 
produce. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  very  day  when  this  dread- 
ful oracle  was  announced,  and  when  the  fatal  mandate 
had  gone  forth  to  seek  among  the  fairest  maidens  of  the 
land  one  to  be  offered  to  the  monster,  some  sailors, 
landing  on  the  beach  where  Angelica  was,  beheld  that 
beauty  as  she  lay  asleep. 

O  blind  Chance!  whose  power  in  human  affairs  is 
but  too  great,  canst  thou  then  abandon  to  the  teeth  of 
a  horrible  monster  those  charms  which  different  sover- 
eigns took  arms  against  one  another  to  possess?  Alas! 
the  lovely  Angelica  is  destined  to  be  the  victim  of  those 
cruel  islanders. 

Still  asleep,  she  was  bound  by  the  Ebudians,  and  it 
was  not  until  she  was  carried  on  board  the  vessel  that 
she  came  to  a  knowledge  of  her  situation.  The  wind 
filled  the  sails  and  wafted  the  ship  swiftly  to  the  port, 
where  all  that  beheld  her  agreed  that  she  was  unques- 
tionably the  victim  selected  by  Proteus  himself  to  be 
his  prey.  Who  can  tell  the  screams,  the  mortal  anguish 
of  this  unhappy  maiden,  the  reproaches  she  addressed 
even  to  the  heavens  themselves,  when  the  dreadful  in- 
formation of  her  cruel  fate  was  made  known  to  her? 
I  cannot;  let  me  rather  turn  to  a  happier  part  of  my 
story. 

Rogero  left  the  palace  of  Logestilla,  careering  on  his 
flying  courser  far  above  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  and 
borne  westward  by  the  Hippogriff,  which  he  guided  with 
ease,  by  means  of  the  bridle  that  Melissa  had  given  him. 
Anxious  as  he  was  to  recover  Bradamante,  he  could  not 
fail  to  be  delighted  at  the  view  his  rapid  flight  presented 
of  so  many  vast  regions  and  populous  countries  as  he 


734  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

passed  over  in  his  career.  At  last  he  approached  the 
shores  of  England,  and  perceived  an  immense  army  in 
all  the  splendor  of  military  pomp,  as  if  about  to  go  forth 
flushed  with  hopes  of  victory.  He  caused  the  Hippogriff 
to  alight  not  far  from  the  scene,  and  found  himself  im- 
mediately surrounded  by  admiring  spectators,  knights 
and  soldiers,  who  could  not  enough  indulge  their  curi- 
osity and  wonder.  Rogero  learned,  in  reply  to  his  ques- 
tions, that  the  fine  array  of  troops  before  him  was  the 
army  destined  to  go  to  the  aid  of  the  French  Emperor, 
in  compliance  with  the  request  presented  by  the  illus- 
trious Rinaldo,  as  ambassador  of  King  Charles,  his  uncle. 

By  this  time  the  curiosity  of  the  English  chevaliers 
was  partly  gratified  in  beholding  the  Hippogriff  at  rest, 
and  Rogero,  to  renew  their  surprise  and  delight,  re- 
mounted the  animal,  and,  slapping  spurs  to  his  sides, 
made  him  launch  into  the  air  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
meteor,  and  directed  his  flight  still  westwardly,  till  he 
came  within  sight  of  the  coasts  of  Ireland.  Here  he 
descried  what  seemed  to  be  a  fair  damsel,  alone,  fast 
chained  to  a  rock  which  projected  into  the  sea.  What 
was  his  astonishment  when,  drawing  nigh,  he  beheld  the 
beautiful  princess  Angelica!  That  day  she  had  been 
led  forth  and  bound  to  the  rock,  there  to  wait  till  the 
sea-monster  should  come  to  devour  her.  Rogero  ex- 
claimed as  he  came  near,  "What  cruel  hands,  what  bar- 
barous soul,  what  fatal  chance  can  have  loaded  thee  with 
those  chains?"  Angelica  replied  by  a  torrent  of  tears, 
at  first  her  only  response;  then,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
she  disclosed  to  him  the  horrible  destiny  for  which  she 
was  there  exposed.  While  she  spoke,  a  terrible  roar- 
ing was  heard  far  off  on  the  sea.  The  huge  monster 
soon  came  in  sight,  part  of  his  body  appearing  above 
the  waves  and  part  concealed.  Angelica,  half  dead  with 
fear,  abandoned  herself  to  despair. 

Rogero,  lance  in  rest,  spurred  his  Hippogriff  toward 
the  Ore,  and  gave  him  a  thrust.  The  horrible  monster 
was  like  nothing  that  nature  produces.  It  was  but  one 
mass  of  tossing  and  twisting  body,  with  nothing  of  the 
animal  but  head,  eyes,  and  mouth,  the  last  furnished 
with  tusks  like  those  of  the  wild  boar.  Rogero's  lance 


THE  ORC  735 

had  struck  him  between  the  eyes;  but  rock  and  iron 
are  not  more  impenetrable  than  were  his  scales.  The 
knight,  seeing  the  fruitlessness  of  the  first  blow,  pre- 
pared to  give  a  second.  The  animal,  beholding  upon  the 
water  the  shadow  of  the  great  wings  of  the  Hippogriff, 
abandoned  his  prey,  and  turned  to  seize  what  seemed 
nearer.  Rogero  took  the  opportunity,  and  dealt  him  fu- 
rious blows  on  various  parts  of  his  body,  taking  care 
to  keep  clear  of  his  murderous  teeth;  but  the  scales  re- 
sisted every  attack.  The  Ore  beat  the  water  with  his  tail 
till  he  raised  a  foam  which  enveloped  Rogero  and  his 
steed,  so  that  the  knight  hardly  knew  whether  he  was 
in  the  water  or  the  air.  He  began  to  fear  that  the  wings 
of  the  Hippogriff  would  be  so  drenched  with  water  that 
they  would  cease  to  sustain  him.  At  that  moment  Rog- 
ero bethought  him  of  the  magic  shield  which  hung  at  his 
saddle-bow ;  but  the  fear  that  Angelica  would  also  be 
blinded  by  its  glare  discouraged  him  from  employing 
it.  Then  he  remembered  the  ring  which  Melissa  had 
given  him,  the  power  of  which  he  had  so  lately  proved. 
He  hastened  to  Angelica  and  placed  it  on  her  finger. 
Then,  uncovering  the  buckler,  he  turned  its  bright  disk- 
full  in  the  face  of  the  detestable  Ore.  The  effect  was 
instantaneous.  The  monster,  deprived  of  sense  and  mo- 
tion, rolled  over  on  the  sea,  and  lay  floating  on  his  back. 
Rogero  would  fain  have  tried  the  effect  of  his  lance  on 
the  now  exposed  parts,  but  Angelica  implored  him  to 
lose  no  time  in  delivering  her  from  her  chains  before 
the  monster  should  revive.  Rogero,  moved  with  her  en- 
treaties, hastened  to  do  so,  and,  having  unbound  her, 
made  her  mount  behind  him  on  the  Hippogriff.  The 
animal,  spurning  the  earth,  shot  up  into  the  air,  and 
rapidly  sped  his  way  through  it.  Rogero,  to  give  time 
to  the  princess  to  rest  after  her  cruel  agitations,  soon 
sought  the  earth  again,  alighting  on  the  shore  of  Brit- 
tany. Near  the  shore  a  thick  wood  presented  itself, 
which  resounded  with  the  songs  of  birds.  In  the  midst, 
a  fountain  of  transparent  water  bathed  the  turf  of  a 
little  meadow.  A  gentle  hill  rose  near  by.  Rogero, 
making  the  Hippogriff  alight  in  the  meadow,  dismount- 
ed, and  took  Angelica  from  the  horse. 


736  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

When  the  first  tumults  of  emotion  had  subsided 
Angelica,  casting  her  eyes  downward,  beheld  the  pre- 
cious ring  upon  her  finger,  whose  virtues  she  was  well 
acquainted  with,  for  it  was  the  very  ring  which  the 
Saracen  Brunello  had  robbed  her  of.  She  drew  it  from 
her  finger  and  placed  it  in  her  mouth,  and,  quicker  than 
we  can  tell  it,  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the  paladin. 

Rogero  looked  around  him  on  all  sides,  like  one  fran- 
tic, but  soon  remembered  the  ring  which  he  had  so 
lately  placed  on  her  finger.  Struck  with  the  ingrati- 
tude which  could  thus  recompense  his  services,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "Thankless  beauty,  is  this  then  the  reward  you 
make  me?  Do  you  prefer  to  rob  me  of  my  ring  rather 
than  receive  it  as  a  gift?  Willingly  would  I  have  given 
it  to  you,  had  you  but  asked  it."  Thus  he  said,  search- 
ing on  all  sides  with  arms  extended  like  a  blind  man, 
hoping  to  recover  by  the  touch  what  was  lost  to  sight; 
but  he  sought  in  vain.  The  cruel  beauty  was  already 
far  away. 

Though  sensible  of  her  obligations  to  her  deliverer, 
her  first  necessity  was  for  clothing,  food,  and  repose. 
She  soon  reached  a  shepherd's  hut,  where,  entering  un- 
seen, she  found  what  sufficed  for  her  present  relief. 
An  old  herdsman  inhabited  the  hut,  whose  charges  con- 
sisted of  a  drove  of  mares.  When  recruited  by  repose 
Angelica  selected  one  of  the  mares  from  the  flock,  and, 
mounting  the  animal,  felt  the  desire  revive  in  her  mind 
of  returning  to  her  home  in  the  East,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose would  gladly  have  accepted  the  protection  of  Or- 
lando or  of  Sacripant  across  those  wide  regions  which 
divided  her  from  her  own  country.  In  hopes  of  meet- 
ing with  one  or  the  other  of  them  she  pursued  her  way. 

Meanwhile  Rogero,  despairing  of  seeing  Angelica 
again,  returned  to  the  tree  where  he  had  left  his  winged 
horse,  but  had  the  mortification  to  find  that  the  animal 
had  broken  his  bridle  and  escaped.  This  loss,  added  to 
his  previous  disappointment,  overwhelmed  him  with 
vexation.  Sadly  he  gathered  up  his  arms,  threw  his 
buckler  over  his  shoulders,  and,  taking  the  first  path  that 
offered,  soon  found  himself  within  the  verge  of  a  dense 
and  widespread  forest. 


THE  ORC  737 

He  had  proceeded  for  some  distance  when  he  heard 
a  noise  on  his  right,  and,  listening  attentively,  distin- 
guished the  clash  of  arms.  He  made  his  way  toward 
the  place  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  and  found  two 
warriors  engaged  in  mortal  combat.  One  of  them  was 
a  knight  of  a  noble  and  manly  bearing,  the  other  a  fierce 
giant.  The  knight  appeared  to  exert  consummate  ad- 
dress in  defending  herself  against  the  massive  club  of 
the  giant,  evading  his  strokes,  or  parrying  them  with 
sword  or  shield.  Rogero  stood  spectator  of  the  combat, 
for  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  interfere  in  it,  though 
a  secret  sentiment  inclined  him  strongly  to  take  part 
with  the  knight.  At  length  he  saw  with  grief  the  mas- 
sive club  fall  directly  on  the  head  of  the  knight,  who 
yielded  to  the  blow,  and  fell  prostrate.  The  giant  sprang 
forward  to  despatch  him,  and  for  that  purpose  unlaced 
his  helmet,  when  Rogero,  with  dismay,  recognized  the 
face  of  Bradamante.  He  cried  aloud,  "Hold,  mis- 
creant!" and  sprang  forward  with  drawn  sword. 
Whereupon  the  giant,  as  if  he  cared  not  to  enter  upon 
another  combat,  lifted  Bradamante  on  his  shoulders,  and 
ran  with  her  into  the  forest. 

Rogero  plunged  after  him,  but  the  long  legs  of  the 
giant  carried  him  forward  so  fast  that  the  paladin  could 
hardly  keep  him  in  sight.  At  length  they  issued  from 
the  wood,  and  Rogero  perceived  before  him  a  rich  pal-, 
ace,  built  of  marble,  and  adorned  with  sculptures  exe- 
cuted by  a  master  hand.  Into  this  edifice,  through  a 
golden  door,  the  giant  passed,  and  Rogero  followed ;  but, 
on  looking  round,  saw  nowhere  either  the  giant  or  Brada- 
mante. He  ran  from  room  to  room,  calling  aloud  on 
his  cowardly  foe  to  turn  and  meet  him;  but  got  no 
response,  nor  caught  another  glimpse  of  the  giant  or  his 
prey.  In  his  vain  pursuit  he  met,  without  knowing  them, 
Ferrau,  Florismart,  King  Gradasso,  Orlando,  and  many 
others,  all  of  whom  had  been  entrapped  like  himself 
into  this  enchanted  castle.  It  was  a  new  stratagem  of 
the  magician  Atlantes  to  draw  Rogero  into  his  power, 
and  to  secure  also  those  who  might  by  any  chance  endan- 
ger his  safety.  What  Rogero  had  taken  for  Brada- 
mante was  a  mere  phantom.  That  charming  lady  was 


738  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

far  away,  full  of  anxiety  for  her  Rogero,  whose  com- 
ing she  had  long  expected. 

The  Emperor  had  committed  to  her  charge  the  city 
and  garrison  of  Marseilles,  and  she  held  the  post  against 
the  infidels  with  valor  and  discretion.  One  day  Melissa 
suddenly  presented  herself  before  her.  Anticipating  her 
questions,  she  said,  "Fear  not  for  Rogero;  he  lives,  and 
is  as  ever  true  to  you ;  but  he  has  lost  his  liberty.  The 
fell  enchanter  has  again  succeeded  in  making  him  a  pris- 
oner. If  you  would  deliver  him,  mount  your  horse  and 
follow  me."  She  told  her  in  what  manner  Atlantes  had 
deceived  Rogero,  in  deluding  his  eyes  with  the  phantom 
of  herself  in  peril.  '"Such,"  she  continued,  "will  be  his 
arts  in  your  own  case,  if  you  penetrate  the  forest  and 
approach  that  castle.  You  will  think  you  behold  Rogero, 
when,  in  fact,  you  see  only  the  enchanter  himself.  Be 
not  deceived,  plunge  your  sword  into  his  body,  and  trust 
me  when  1  tell  you  that,  in  slaying  him,  you  will  restore 
not  only  Rogero,  but  with  him  many  of  the  bravest 
knights  of  France,  whom  the  wizard's  arts  have  with- 
drawn from  the  camp  of  their  sovereign." 

Bradamante  promptly  armed  herself,  and  mounted 
her  horse.  Melissa  led  her  by  forced  journeys,  by  field 
and  forest,  beguiling  the  way  with  conversation  on  the 
theme  which  interested  her  hearer  most.  When  at  last 
they  reached  the  forest,  she  repeated  once  more  her  in- 
structions, and  then  took  her  leave,  for  fear  the  enchanter 
might  espy  her,  and  be  put  on  his  guard. 

Bradamante  rode  on  about  two  miles  when  suddenly 
she  beheld  Rogero,  as  it  appeared  to  her,  hard  pressed 
by  two  fierce  giants.  While  she  hesitated  she  heard  his 
voice  calling  on  her  for  help.  At  once  the  cautions  of 
Melissa  lost  their  weight.  A  sudden  doubt  of  the  faith 
and  truth  of  her  kind  monitress  flashed  across  her  mind. 
"Shall  I  not  believe  my  own  eyes  and  ears?"  she  said, 
and  rushed  forward  to  his  defence.  Rogero  fled,  pur- 
sued by  the  giants,  and  Bradamante  followed,  passing 
with  them  through  the  castle  gate.  When  there,  Brada- 
mante was  undeceived,  for  neither  giant  nor  knight  was 
to  be  seen.  She  found  herself  a  prisoner,  but  had  not 
the  consolation  of  knowing  that  she  shared  the  imprison- 


ASTOLPHO'S  ADVENTURES  739 

ment  of  her  beloved.  She  saw  various  forms  of  men 
and  women,  but  could  recognize  none  of  them ;  and  their 
lot  was  the  same  with  respect  to  her.  Each  viewed  the 
others  under  some  illusion  of  the  fancy,  wearing  the 
semblance  of  giants,  dwarfs,  or  even  four-footed  ani- 
mals, so  that  there  was  no  companionship  or  communi- 
cation between  them. 


ASTOLPHO'S  ADVENTURES  CONTINUED,  AND 
ISABELLA'S    BEGUN 

WHEN  Astolpho  escaped  from  the  cruel  Alcina,  after 
a  short  abode  in  the  realm  of  the  virtuous  Logestilla, 
he  desired  to  return  to  his  native  country.  Logestilla 
lent  him  the  best  vessel  of  her  fleet  to  convey  him  to  the 
mainland.  She  gave  him  at  parting  a  wonderful  book, 
which  taught  the  secret  of  overcoming  all  manners  of 
enchantments,  and  begged  him  to  carry  it  always  with 
him,  out  of  regard  for  her.  She  also  gave  him  another 
gift,  which  surpassed  everything  of  the  kind  that  mortal 
workmanship  can  frame;  yet  it  was  nothing  in  appear- 
ance but  a  simple  horn. 

Astolpho,  protected  by  these  gifts,  thanked  the  good 
fairy,  took  leave  of  her,  and  set  out  on  his  return  to 
France.  His  voyage  was  prosperous,  and  on  reaching 
the  desired  port  he  took  leave  of  the  faithful  mariners, 
and  continued  his  journey  by  land.  As  he  proceeded 
over  mountains  and  through  valleys  he  often  met 
with  bands  of  robbers,  wild  beasts,  and  venomous  ser- 
pents, but  he  had  only  to  sound  his  horn  to  put  them  all 
to  flight. 

Having  landed  in  France,  and  traversed  many  prov- 
inces on  his  way  to  the  army,  he  one  day,  in  crossing 
a  forest,  arrived  beside  a  fountain,  and  alighted  to  drink. 
While  he  stooped  at  the  fountain  a  young  rustic  sprang 
from  the  copse,  mounted  Rabican,  and  rode  away.  It 
was  a  new  trick  of  the  enchanter  Atlantes.  Astolpho, 
Jiearing  the  noise,  turned  his  head  just  in  time  to  see  his 


740  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

loss;  and,  starting  up,  pursued  the  thief,  who,  on  his 
part,  did  not  press  the  horse  to  his  full  speed,  but  just 
kept  in  sight  of  his  pursuer  till  they  both  issued  from 
the  forest ;  and  then  Rabican  and  his  rider  took  shelter  in 
a  castle  which  stood  near.  Astolpho  followed,  and  pene- 
trated without  difficulty  within  the  court-yard  of  the  cas- 
tle, where  he  looked  around  for  the  rider  and  his  horse, 
but  could  see  no  trace  of  either,  nor  any  person  of  whom 
he  could  make  inquiry.  Suspecting  that  enchantment 
was  employed  to  embarrass  him,  he  bethought  him  of  his 
book,  and  on  consulting  it  discovered  that  his  suspicions 
were  well  founded.  He  also  learned  what  course  to 
pursue.  He  was  directed  to  raise  the  stone  which  served 
as  a  threshold,  under  which  a  spirit  lay  pent,  who  would 
willingly  escape,  and  leave  the  castle  free  of  access. 
Astolpho  applied  his  strength  to  lift  aside  the  stone. 
Thereupon  the  magician  put  his  arts  in  force.  The  castle 
was  full  of  prisoners,  and  the  magician  caused  that  to 
all  of  them  Astolpho  should  appear  in  some  false  guise — 
to  some  a  wild  beast,  to  others  a  giant,  to  others  a  bird 
of  prey.  Thus  all  assailed  him,  and  would  quickly  have 
made  an  end  of  him,  if  he  had  not  bethought  him  of  his 
horn.  No  sooner  had  he  blown  a  blast  than,  at  the  hor- 
rid larum,  fled  the  cavaliers  and  the  necromancer  with 
them,  like  a  flock  of  pigeons  at  the  sound  of  the  fow- 
ler's gun.  Astolpho  then  renewed  his  efforts  on  the 
stone,  and  turned  it  over.  The  under  face  was  all  in- 
scribed with  magical  characters,  which  the  knight  de- 
faced, as  directed  by  his  book ;  and  no  sooner  had  he 
done  so,  than  the  castle,  with  its  walls  and  turrets,  van- 
ished into  smoke. 

The  knights  and  ladies  set  at  liberty  were,  besides 
Rogero  and  Bradamante,  Orlando,  Gradasso,  Florismart, 
and  many  more.  At  the  sound  of  the  horn  they  fled, 
one  and  all,  men  and  steeds,  except  Rabican,  which 
Astolpho  secured,  in  spite  of  his  terror.  As  soon  as  the 
sound  had  ceased  Rogero  recognized  Bradamante,  whom 
he  had  daily  met  during  their  imprisonment,  but  had 
been  prevented  from  knowing  by  the  enchanter's  arts. 
No  words  can  tell  the  delight  with  which  they  recognized 
each  other,  and  recounted  mutually  all  that  had  happened 


ASTOLPHO'S  ADVENTURES  741 

to  each  since  they  were  parted.  Rogero  took  advantage 
of  the  opportunity  to  press  his  suit,  and  found  Brada- 
mante  as  propitious  as  he  could  wish,  were  it  not  for  a 
single  obstacle,  the  difference  of  their  faiths.  "If  he 
would  obtain  her  in  marriage,"  she  said,  "he  must  in  due 
form  demand  her  of  her  father,  Duke  Aymon,  and 
must  abandon  his  false  prophet,  and  become  a  Chris- 
tian." The  latter  step  was  one  which  Rogero  had  for 
some  time  intended  taking,  for  reasons  of  his  own.  He 
therefore  gladly  accepted  the  terms,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  at  once  repair  to  the  abbey  of  Vallombrosa, 
whose  towers  were  visible  at  no  great  distance.  Thither 
they  turned  their  horses'  heads,  and  we  will  leave  them 
to  find  their  way  without  our  company. 

I  know  not  if  my  readers  recollect  that  at  the  moment 
when  Rogero  had  just  delivered  Angelica  from  the  vora- 
cious Ore  that  scornful  beauty  placed  her  ring  in  her 
mouth,  and  vanished  out  of  sight.  At  the  same  time  the 
Hippogriff  shook  off  his  bridle,  soared  away,  and  flew 
to  rejoin  his  former  master,  very  naturally  returning  to 
his  accustomed  stable.  Here  Astolpho  found  him,  to  his 
very  great  delight.  He  knew  the  animal's  powers,  hav- 
ing seen  Rogero  ride  him,  and  he  longed  to  fly  abroad 
over  all  the  earth,  and  see  various  nations  and  peoples 
from  his  airy  course.  He  had  heard  Logestilla's  direc- 
tions how  to  guide  the  animal,  and  saw  her  fit  a  bridle 
to  his  head.  He  therefore  was  able,  out  of  all  the  bridles 
he  found  in  the  stable,  to  select  one  suitable,  and,  plac- 
ing Rabican's  saddle  on  the  Hippogriff's  back,  nothing 
seemed  to  prevent  his  immediate  departure.  Yet  before 
he  went  he  bethought  him  of  placing  Rabican  in  hands 
where  he  would  be  safe,  and  whence  he  might  recover 
him  in  time  of  need.  While  he  stood  deliberating  where 
he  should  find  a  messenger,  he  saw  Bradamante  ap- 
proach. That  fair  warrior  had  been  parted  from  Rogero 
on  their  way  to  the  abbey  of  Vallombrosa,  by  an  inop- 
portune adventure  which  had  called  the  knight  away. 
She  was  now  returning  to  Montalban,  having  arranged 
with  Rogero  to  join  her  there.  To  Bradamante,  there- 
fore, his  fair  cousin,  Astolpho  committed  Rabican,  and 
also  the  lance  of  gold,  which  would  only  be  an  incum- 


742  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

brance  in  his  aerial  excursion.  Bradamante  took  charge 
of  both;  and  Astolpho,  bidding  her  farewell,  soared  in 
air. 

Among  those  delivered  by  Astolpho  from  the  magi- 
cian's castle  was  Orlando.  Following  the  guide  of 
chance,  the  paladin  found  himself  at  the  close  of  day  in 
a  forest,  and  stopped  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain.  Sur- 
prised to  discern  a  light  which  came  from  a  cleft  in  the 
rock,  he  approached,  guided  by  the  ray,  and  discovered 
a  narrow  passage  in  the  mountain-side,  which  led  into  a 
deep  grotto. 

Orlando  fastened  his  horse,  and  then,  putting  aside 
the  bushes  that  resisted  his  passage,  stepped  down  from 
rock  to  rock  till  he  reached  a  sort  of  cavern.  Entering 
it,  he  perceived  a  lady,  young  and  handsome,  as  well  as 
he  could  discover  through  the  signs  of  distress  which 
agitated  her  countenance.  Her  only  companion  was  an 
old  woman,  who  seemed  to  be  regarded  by  her  young 
partner  with  terror  and  indignation.  The  courteous 
paladin  saluted  the  women  respectfully,  and  begged  to 
know  by  whose  barbarity  they  had  been  subjected  to 
such  imprisonment. 

The  younger  lady  replied,  in  a  voice  often  broken  with 
sobs: 

'Though  I  know  well  that  my  recital  will  subject  me 
to  worse  treatment  by  the  barbarous  man  who  keeps  me 
here,  to  whom  this  woman  will  not  fail  to  report  it,  yet 
I  will  not  hide  from  you  the  facts.  Ah !  why  should  I 
fear  his  rage?  If  he  should  take  my  life,  I  know  not 
what  better  boon  than  death  I  can  ask. 

"My  name  is  Isabella.  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  king 
of  Galicia,  or  rather  I  should  say  misfortune  and  grief 
are  my  parents.  Young,  rich,  modest,  and  of  tranquil 
temper,  all  things  appeared  to  combine  to  render  my  lot 
happy.  Alas!  I  see  myself  to-day  poor,  humbled,  miser- 
able, and  destined  perhaps  to  yet  further  afflictions.  It 
is  a  year  since,  my  father  having  given  notice  that  he 
would  open  the  lists  for  a  tournament  at  Bayonne,  a 
great  number  of  chevaliers  from  all  quarters  came  to- 
gether at  our  court.  Among  these  Zerbino,  son  of  the 
king  of  Scotland,  victorious  in  all  combats,  eclipsed  by 


ASTOLPHO'S  ADVENTURES  743 

his  beauty  and  his  valor  all  the  rest.  Before  departing 
from  the  court  of  Galicia  he  testified  the  wish  to  espouse 
me,  and  I  consented  that  he  should  demand  my  hand  of 
the  king,  my  father.  But  I  was  a  Mahometan,  and  Zer- 
bino  a  Christian,  and  my  father  refused  his  consent, 
The  prince,  called  home  by  his  father  to  take  command 
of  the  forces  destined  to  the  assistance  of  the  French 
Emperor,  prevailed  on  me  to  be  married  to  him  secretly, 
and  to  follow  him  to  Scotland.  He  caused  a  galley  to 
be  prepared  to  receive  me,  and  placed  in  command  of 
it  the  chevalier  Oderic,  a  Biscayan,  famous  for  his  ex- 
ploits both  by  land  and  sea.  On  the  day  appointed, 
Oderic  brought  his  vessel  to  a  seaside  resort  of  my 
father's,  where  I  embarked.  Some  of  my  domestics  ac- 
companied me,  and  thus  I  departed  from  my  native  land. 

"Sailing  with  a  fair  wind,  after  some  hours  we  were 
assailed  by  a  violent  tempest.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that 
we  took  in  all  sail ;  we  were  driven  before  the  wind 
directly  upon  the  rocky  shore.  Seeing  no  other  hopes 
of  safety,  Oderic  placed  me  in  a  boat,  followed  himself 
with  a  few  of  his  men,  and  made  for  land.  We  reached 
it  through  infinite  peril,  and  I  no  sooner  felt  the  firm 
land  beneath  my  feet,  than  I  knelt  down  and  poured  out 
heartfelt  thanks  to  the  Providence  that  had  preserved 
me. 

"The  shore  where  we  landed  appeared  to  be  unin- 
habited. We  saw  no  dwelling  to  shelter  us,  no  road  to 
lead  us  to  a  more  hospitable  spot.  A  high  mountain  rose 
before  us,  whose  base  stretched  into  the  sea.  It  was 
here  the  infamous  Oderic,  in  spite  of  my  tears  and  en- 
treaties, sold  me  to  a  band  of  pirates,  who  fancied  I 
might  be  an  acceptable  present  to  their  prince,  the  Sultan 
of  Morocco.  This  cavern  is  their  den,  and  here  they 
keep  me  under  the  guard  of  this  woman,  until  it  shall 
suit  their  convenience  to  carry  me  away." 

Isabella  had  hardly  finished  her  recital  when  a  troop 
of  armed  men  began  to  enter  the  cavern.  Seeing  the 
prince  Orlando,  one  said  to  the  rest,  "What  bird  is  this 
we  have  caught,  without  even  setting  a  snare  for  him?" 
Then  addressing  Orlando,  "It  was  truly  civil  in  you, 
friend,  to  come  hither  with  that  handsome  coat  of  armor 


744  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

and  vest,  the  very  things  I  want."  "You  shall  pay  for 
them,  then/'  said  Orlando;  and  seizing  a  half-burnt 
brand  from  the  fire,  he  hurled  it  at  him,  striking  his  head, 
and  stretching  him  lifeless  on  the  floor. 

There  was  a  massy  table  in  the  middle  of  the  cavern, 
used  for  the  pirates'  repasts.  Orlando  lifted  it  and 
hurled  it  at  the  robbers  as  they  stood  clustered  in  a 
group  toward  the  entrance.  Half  the  gang  were  laid 
prostrate,  with  broken  heads  and  limbs;  the  rest  got 
away  as  nimbly  as  they  could. 

Leaving  the  den  and  its  inmates  to  their  fate,  Orlando, 
taking  Isabella  under  his  protection,  pursued  his  way  for 
some  days,  without  meeting  with  any  adventure. 

One  day  they  saw  a  band  of  men  advancing,  who 
seemed  to  be  guarding  a  prisoner,  bound  hand  and  foot, 
as  if  being  carried  to  execution.  The  prisoner  was  a 
youthful  cavalier,  of  a  noble  and  ingenuous  appearance. 
The  band  bore  the  ensigns  of  Count  Anselm,  head  of 
the  treacherous  house  of  Maganza.  Orlando  desired 
Isabella  to  wait,  while  he  rode  forward  to  inquire  the 
meaning  of  this  array.  Approaching,  he  demanded  of 
the  leader  who  his  prisoner  was,  and  of  what  crime  he 
had  been  guilty.  The  man  replied  that  the  prisoner 
was  a  murderer,  by  whose  hand  Pinabel,  the  son  of 
Count  Anselm,  had  been  treacherously  slain.  At  these 
words  the  prisoner  exclaimed,  "I  am  no  murderer,  nor 
have  I  been  in  any  way  the  cause  of  the  young  man's 
death."  Orlando,  knowing  the  cruel  and  ferocious  char- 
acter of  the  chiefs  of  the  house  of  Maganza,  needed 
no  more  to  satisfy  him  that  the  youth  was  the  victim  of 
injustice.  He  commanded  the  leader  of  the  troop  to  re- 
lease his  victim,  and,  receiving  an  insolent  reply,  dashed 
him  to  the  earth  with  a  stroke  of  his  lance;  then  by  a 
few  vigorous  blows  dispersed  the  band,  leaving  deadly 
marks  on  those  who  were  slowest  to  quit  the  field. 

Orlando  then  hastened  to  unbind  the  prisoner,  and 
to  assist  him  to  reclothe  himself  in  his  armor,  which 
the  false  Magencian  had  dared  to  assume.  He  then 
led  him  to  Isabella,  who  now  approached  the  scene  of 
action.  How  can  we  picture  the  joy,  the  astonishment, 
with  which  Isabella  recognized  in  him  Zerbino,  her  hus- 


MEDORO  745 

band,  and  the  prince  discovered  her  whom  he  had  be- 
lieved overwhelmed  in  the  waves !  They  embraced  one 
another,  and  wept  for  joy.  Orlando,  sharing  in  their 
happiness,  congratulated  himself  in  having  been  the  in- 
strument of  it.  The  princess  recounted  to  Zerbino  what 
the  illustrious  paladin  had  done  for  her,  and  the  prince 
threw  himself  at  Orlando's  feet,  and  thanked  him  as 
having  twice  preserved  his  life. 

While  these  exchanges  of  congratulation  and  thank- 
fulness were  going  on,  a  sound  in  the  underwood  at- 
tracted their  attention,  and  caused  the  two  knights  to 
brace  their  helmets  and  stand  on  their  guard.  What 
the  cause  of  the  interruption  was  we  shall  record  in 
another  chapter. 


MEDORO 

FRANCE  was  at  this  time  the  theatre  of  dreadful 
events.  The  Saracens  and  the  Christians,  in  numerous 
encounters,  slew  one  another.  On  one  occasion  Rinaldo 
led  an  attack  on  the  infidel  columns,  broke  and  scattered 
them,  till  he  found  himself  opposite  to  a  knight  whose 
armor  (whether  by  accident  or  by  choice,  it  matters  not) 
bore  the  blazon  of  Orlando.  It  was  Dardinel,  the  young 
and  brave  prince  of  Zumara,  and  Rinaldo  remarked  him 
by  the  slaughter  he  spread  all  around.  "Ah,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "let  us  pluck  up  this  dangerous  plant  before  it 
has  grown  to  its  full  height." 

As  Rinaldo  advanced,  the  crowd  opened  before  him, 
the  Christians  to  let  his  sword  have  free  course,  the 
Pagans  to  escape  its  sweep.  Dardinel  and  he  stood  face 
to  face.  Rinaldo  exclaimed,  fiercely,  "Young  man,  who- 
ever gave  you  that  noble  buckler  to  bear  made  you  a 
dangerous  gift;  I  should  like  to  see  how  you  are  able 
to  defend  those  quarterings,  red  and  white.  If  you 
cannot  defend  them  against  me,  how  pray  will  you  do 
so  when  Orlando  challenges  them?"  Dardinel  replied: 
"Thou  shalt  learn  that  I  can  defend  the  arms  I  bear, 
and  shed  new  glory  upon  them.  No  one  shall  rend  them 


746  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

from  me  but  with  life."  Saying  these  words,  Dardinel 
rushed  upon  Rinaldo  with  sword  uplifted. 

The  chill  of  mortal  terror  filled  the  souls  of  the  Sara- 
cens when  they  beheld  Rinaldo  advance  to  attack  the 
prince,  like  a  lion  against  a  young  bull.  The  first  blow 
came  from  the  hand  of  Dardinel,  and  the  weapon  re- 
bounded from  Mambrino's  helmet  without  effect.  Ri- 
naldo smiled,  and  said,  "I  will  now  show  you  if  my 
strokes  are  more  effectual."  At  these  words  he  thrust 
the  unfortunate  Dardinel  in  the  middle  of  his  breast. 
The  blow  was  so  violent  that  the  cruel  weapon  pierced 
the  body,  and  came  out  a  palm-breadth  behind  his  back. 
Through  this  wound  the  life  of  Dardinel  issued  with  his 
blood,  and  his  body  fell  helpless  to  the  ground. 

As  a  flower  which  the  passing  plough  has  uprooted 
languishes,  and  droops  its  head,  so  Dardinel,  his  visage 
covered  with  the  paleness  of  death,  expires,  and  the 
hopes  of  an  illustrious  race  perish  with  him. 

Like  waters  kept  back  by  a  dike,  which,  when  the  dike 
is  broken,  spread  abroad  through  all  the  country,  so  the 
Moors,  no  longer  kept  in  column  by  the  example  of 
Dardinel,  fled  in  alf  directions.  Rinaldo  despised  too 
much  such  easy  victories  to  pursue  them ;  he  wished  for 
no  combats  but  with  brave  men.  At  the  same  time,  the 
other  paladins  made  terrible  slaughter  of  the  Moors. 
Charles  himself,  Oliver,  Guido,  and  Ogier  the  Dane, 
carried  death  into  their  ranks  on  all  sides. 

The  infidels  seemed  doomed  to  perish  to  a  man  on  that 
dreadful  day;  but  the  wise  king,  Marsilius,  at  last  put 
some  slight  degree  of  method  into  the  general  rout.  He 
collected  the  remnant  of  the  troops,  formed  them  into  a 
battalion,  and  retreated  in  tolerable  order  to  his  camp. 
That  camp  was  well  fortified  by  intrenchments  and  a 
broad  ditch.  Thither  the  fugitives  hastened,  and  by  de- 
grees all  that  remained  of  the  Moorish  army  was  brought 
together  there. 

The  Emperor  might  perhaps  that  night  have  crushed 
his  enemy  entirely;  but  not  thinking  it  prudent  to  expose 
his  troops,  fatigued  as  they  were,  to  an  attack  upon  a 
camp  so  well  fortified,  he  contented  himself  with  encom- 
passing the  enemy  with  his  troops,  prepared  to  make 


MEDORO  747 

a  regular  siege.  During  the  night  the  Moors  had  time 
to  see  the  extent  of  their  loss.  Their  tents  resounded 
with  lamentations.  This  warrior  had  to  mourn  a 
brother,  that  a  friend;  many  suffered  with  grievous 
wounds,  all  trembled  at  the  fate  in  store  for  them. 

There  were  two  young  Moors,  both  of  humble  rank, 
who  gave  proof  at  that  time  of  attachment  and  fidelity 
rare  in  the  history  of  man.  Cloridan  and  Medoro  had 
followed  their  prince,  Dardinel,  to  the  wars  of  France. 
Cloridan,  a  bold  huntsman,  combined  strength  with  activ- 
ity. Medoro  was  a  mere  youth,  his  cheeks  yet  fair  and 
blooming.  Of  all  the  Saracens,  no  one  united  so  much 
grace  and  beauty.  His  light  hair  was  set  off  by  his 
black  and  sparkling  eyes.  The  two  friends  were  to- 
gether on  guard  at  the  rampart.  About  midnight  they 
gazed  on  the  scene  in  deep  dejection.  Medoro,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  spoke  of  the  good  prince  Dardinel, 
and  could  not  endure  the  thought  that  his  body  should  be 
cast  out  on  the  plain,  deprived  of  funeral  honors.  "O 
my  friend,"  said  he,  "must  then  the  body  of  our  prince 
be  the  prey  of  wolves  and  ravens  ?  Alas !  when  I  re- 
member how  he  loved  me,  I  feel  that  if  I  should  sacri- 
fice my  life  to  do  him  honor,  I  should  not  do  more  than 
my  duty.  I  wish,  dear  friend,  to  seek  out  his  body  on 
the  battlefield,  and  give  it  burial,  and  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  pass  through  King  Charles's  camp  without  discovery, 
as  they  are  probably  all  asleep.  You,  Cloridan,  will  be 
able  to  say  for  me,  if  I  should  die  in  the  adventure,  that 
gratitude  and  fidelity  to  my  prince  were  my  induce- 
ments." 

Cloridan  was  both  surprised  and  touched  with  this 
proof  of  the  young  man's  devotion.  He  loved  him  ten- 
derly, and  tried  for  a  long  time  every  effort  to  dissuade 
him  from  his  design;  but  he  found  Medoro  determined 
to  accomplish  his  object  or  die  in  the  endeavor. 

Cloridan,  unable  to  change  his  purpose,  said,  "I  will 
go  with  you,  Medoro,  and  help  you  in  this  generous 
enterprise.  I  value  not  life  compared  with  honor,  and  if 
I  did,  do  you  suppose,  dear  friend,  that  I  could  live 
without  you?  I  would  rather  fall  by  the  arms  of  our 
enemies  than  die  of  grief  for  the  loss  of  you." 


748  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

When  the  two  friends  were  relieved  from  their  guard 
duty  they  went  without  any  followers  into  the  camp  of 
the  Christians.  All  there  was  still;  the  fires  were  dying 
out;  there  was  no  fear  of  any  attempt  on  the  part  of 
the  Saracens,  and  the  soldiers,  overcome  by  fatigue  or 
wine,  slept  secure,  lying  upon  the  ground  in  the  midst 
of  their  arms  and  equipage.  Cloridan  stopped,  and  said, 
"Medoro,  I  am  not  going  to  quit  this  camp  without  tak- 
ing vengeance  for  the  death  of  our  prince.  Keep  watch, 
be  on  your  guard  that  no  one  shall  surprise  us ;  I  mean 
to  mark  a  road  with  my  sword  through  the  ranks  of  our 
enemies. "  So  saying,  he  entered  the  tent  where  Alpheus 
slept,  who  a  year  before  had  joined  the  camp  of  Charles, 
and  pretended  to  be  a  great  physician  and  astrologer. 
But  his  science  had  deceived  him,  if  \t  gave  him  hope 
of  dying  peacefully  in  his  bed  at  a  good  old  age;  his  lot 
was  to  die  with  little  warning.  Cloridan  ran  his  sword 
through  his  heart.  A  Greek  and  a  German  followed, 
who  had  been  playing  late  at  dice :  fortunate  if  they 
had  continued  their  game  a  little  longer;  but  they  never 
reckoned  a  throw  like  this  among  their  chances.  Clori- 
dan next  came  to  the  unlucky  Grillon,  whose  head  lay 
softly  on  his  pillow.  He  dreamed  probably  of  the  feast 
from  which  he  had  but  just  retired;  for  when  Cloridan 
cut  off  his  head  wine  flowed  forth  with  the  blood. 

The  two  young  Moors  might  have  penetrated  even  to 
the  tent  of  Charlemagne ;  but  knowing  that  the  paladins 
encamped  around  him  kept  watch  by  turns,  and  judging 
that  it  was  impossible  they  should  all  be  asleep,  they 
were  afraid  to  go  too  near.  They  might  also  have  ob- 
tained rich  booty;  but,  intent  only  on  their  object,  they 
crossed  the  camp,  and  arrived  at  length  at  the  bloody 
field,  where  bucklers,  lances,  and  swords  lay  scattered  in 
the  midst  of  corpses  of  poor  and  rich,  common  soldier 
and  prince,  horses  and  pools  of  blood.  This  terrible 
scene  of  carnage  would  have  destroyed  all  hope  of  find- 
ing what  they  were  in  search  of  until  dawn  of  day,  were 
it  not  that  the  moon  lent  the  aid  of  her  uncertain  rays. 

Medoro  raised  his  eyes  to  the  planet,  and  exclaimed, 
"O  holy  goddess,  whom  our  fathers  have  adored  under 
three  different  forms, — thou  who  display est  thy  power 


MEDORO  749 

in  heaven,  on  earth,  and  in  the  underworld, — thou  who 
art  seen  foremost  among  the  nymphs  chasing  the  beasts 
of  the  forest, — cause  me  to  see,  I  implore  thee,  the  spot 
where  my  dear  master  lies,  and  make  me  all  my  life 
long  follow  the  example  which  thou  dost  exhibit  of  works 
of  charity  and  love." 

Either  by  accident,  or  that  the  moon  was  sensible  of 
the  prayer  of  Medoro,  the  cloud  broke  away,  and  the 
moonlight  burst  forth  as  bright  as  day.  The  rays  seemed 
especially  to  gild  the  spot  where  lay  the  body  of  Prince 
Dardinel ;  and  Medoro,  bathed  in  tears  and  with  bleeding 
heart,  recognized  him  by  the  quarterings  of  red  and 
white  on  his  shield. 

With  groans  stifled  by  his  tears,  and  lamentations  in 
accents  suppressed,  not  from  any  fear  for  himself,  for 
he  cared  not  for  life,  but  lest  any  one  should  be  roused 
to  interrupt  their  pious  duty  while  yet  incomplete,  he 
proposed  to  his  companion  that  they  should  together 
bear  Dardinel  on  their  shoulders,  sharing  the  burden  of 
the  beloved  remains. 

Marching  with  rapid  strides  under  their  precious  load, 
they  perceived  that  the  stars  began  to  grow  pale,  and 
that  the  shades  of  night  would  soon  be  dispersed  by  the 
dawn.  Just  then  Zerbino,  whose  extreme  valor  had 
urged  him  far  from  the  camp  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitives, 
returning,  entered  the  wood  in  which  they  were.  Some 
knights  in  his  train  perceived  at  a  distance  the  two 
brothers-in-arms.  Cloridan  saw  the  troop,  and,  observ- 
ing that  they  dispersed  themselves  over  the  plain  as  if  in 
search  of  booty,  told  Medoro  to  lay  down  the  body,  and 
let  each  save  himself  by  flight.  He  dropped  his  part, 
thinking  that  Medoro  would  do  the  same;  but  the  good 
youth  loved  his  prince  too  well  to  abandon  him,  and  con- 
tinued to  carry  his  load  singly  as  well  as  he  might,  while 
Cloridan  made  his  escape.  Near  by  there  was  a  part  of 
the  wood  tufted  as  if  nothing  but  wild  animals  had  ever 
penetrated  it.  The  unfortunate  youth,  loaded  with  the 
weight  of  his  dead  master,  plunged  into  its  recesses. 

Cloridan,  when  he  perceived  that  he  had  evaded  his 
foes,  discovered  that  Medoro  was  not  with  him.  "Ah!" 
exclaimed  he,  "how  could  I,  dear  Medoro,  so  forget 


750  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

myself  as  to  consult  my  own  safety  without  heeding 
yours?"  So  saying,  he  retraced  the  tangled  passes  of 
the  wood  toward  the  place  from  whence  he  had  fled.  As 
he  approached  he  heard  the  noise  of  horses,  and  the 
menacing  voices  of  armed  men.  Soon  he  perceived 
Medoro,  on  foot,  with  the  cavaliers  surrounding  him. 
Zerbino,  their  commander,  bade  them  seize  him.  The 
unhappy  Medoro  turned  now  this  way,  now  that,  try- 
ing to  conceal  himself  behind  an  oak  or  a  rock,  still 
bearing  the  body,  which  he  would  by  no  means  leave. 
Cloridan  not  knowing  how  to  help  him,  but  resolved  to 
perish  with  him,  if  he  must  perish,  takes  an  arrow,  fits  it 
co  his  bow,  discharges  it,  and  pierces  the  breast  of  a 
Christian  knight,  who  falls  helpless  from  his  horse.  The 
others  look  this  way  and  that,  to  discover  whence  the 
fatal  bolt  was  sped.  One,  while  demanding  of  his 
comrades  in  what  direction  the  arrow  came,  received  a 
second  in  his  throat,  which  stopped  his  words,  and  soon 
closed  his  eyes  to  the  scene. 

Zerbino,  furious  at  the  death  of  his  two  comrades, 
ran  upon  Medoro,  seized  his  golden  hair,  and  dragged 
him  forward  to  slay  him.  But  the  sight  of  so  much 
youth  and  beauty  commanded  pity.  He  stayed  his  arm. 
The  young  man  spoke  in  suppliant  tones.  "Ah !  signor," 
said  he,  "I  conjure  you  by  the  God  whom  you  serve,  de- 
prive me  not  of  life  until  I  shall  have  buried  the  body 
of  the  prince,  my  master.  Fear  not  that  I  will  ask  you 
any  other  favor;  life  is  not  dear  to  me;  I  desire  death 
as  soon  as  I  shall  have  performed  this  sacred  duty.  Do 
with  me  then  as  you  please.  Give  my  limbs  a  prey  to 
the  birds  and  beasts;  only  let  me  first  bury  my  prince." 
Medoro  pronounced  these  words  with  an  air  so  sweet 
and  tender  that  a  heart  of  stone  would  have  been  moved 
by  them.  Zerbino  was  so  to  the  bottom  of  his  soul.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  uttering  words  of  mercy,  when  a 
cruel  subaltern,  forgetting  all  respect  to  his  commander, 
plunged  his  lance  into  the  breast  of  the  young  Moor. 
Zerbino,  enraged  at  his  brutality,  turned  upon  the  wretch 
to  take  vengeance,  but  he  saved  himself  by  a  precipitate 
flight. 

Cloridan,  who  saw  Medoro  fall,  could  contain  him- 


MEDORO  751 

self  no  longer.  He  rushed  from  his  concealment,  threw 
down  his  bow,  and,  sword  in  hand,  seemed  only  desirous 
of  vengeance  for  Medoro,  and  to  die  with  him.  In  a 
moment,  pierced  through  and  through  with  many  wounds, 
he  exerts  the  last  remnant  of  his  strength  in  dragging 
himself  to  Medoro,  to  die  embracing  him.  The  cava- 
liers left  them  thus  to  rejoin  Zerbino,  whose  rage  against 
the  murderer  of  Medoro  had  drawn  him  away  from  the 
spot. 

Cloridan  died;  and  Medoro,  bleeding  copiously,  was 
drawing  near  his  end  when  help  arrived. 

A  young  maiden  approached  the  fallen  knights  at  this 
critical  moment.  Her  dress  was  that  of  a  peasant-girl, 
but  her  air  was  noble,  and  her  beauty  celestial ;  sweet- 
ness and  goodness  reigned  in  her  lovely  countenance. 
It  was  no  other  than  Angelica,  the  Princess  of  Cathay. 

When  she  had  recovered  that  precious  ring,  as  we 
have  before  related,  Angelica,  knowing  its  value,  felt 
proud  in  the  power  it  conferred,  travelled  alone  without 
fear,  not  without  a  secret  shame  that  she  had  ever  been 
obliged  to  seek  protection  in  her  wanderings  of  the  Count 
Orlando  and  of  Sacripant.  She  reproached  herself  too 
as  with  a  weakness  that  she  had  ever  thought  of  marry- 
ing Rinaldo;  in  fine,  her  pride  grew  so  high  as  to  per- 
suade her  that  no  man  living  was  worthy  to  aspire  to 
her  hand. 

Moved  with  pity  at  the  sight  of  the  young  man 
wounded,  and  melted  to  tears  at  hearing  the  cause,  she 
quickly  recalled  to  remembrance  the  knowledge  she  had 
acquired  in  India,  where  the  virtues  of  plants  and  the 
art  of  healing  formed  part  of  the  education  even  of 
princesses.  The  beautiful  queen  ran  into  the  adjoining 
meadow  to  gather  plants  of  virtue  to  staunch  the  flow  of 
blood.  Meeting  on  her  way  a  countryman  on  horseback 
seeking  a  strayed  heifer,  she  begged  him  to  come  to  her 
assistance,  and  endeavor  to  remove  the  wounded  man  to 
a  more  secure  asylum. 

Angelica,  having  prepared  the  plants  by  bruising  them 
between  two  stones,  laid  them  with  her  fair  hand  on 
Medoro's  wound.  The  remedy  soon  restored  in  some 
degree  the  strength  of  the  wounded  man,  who,  before 


752  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

he  would  quit  the  spot,  made  them  cover  with  earth  and 
turf  the  bodies  of  his  friend  and  of  the  prince.  Then 
surrendering  himself  to  the  pity  of  his  deliverers,  he 
allowed  them  to  place  him  on  the  horse  of  the  shepherd, 
and  conduct  him  to  his  cottage.  It  was  a  pleasant  farm- 
house on  the  borders  of  the  wood,  bearing  marks  of 
comfort  and  competency.  There  the  shepherd  lived  with 
his  wife  and  children.  There  Angelica  tended  Medoro, 
and  there,  by  the  devoted  care  of  the  beautiful  queen, 
his  sad  wound  closed  over,  and  he  recovered  his  perfect 
health. 

O  Count  Rinaldo,  O  King  Sacripant!  what  availed 
it  you  to  possess  so  many  virtues  and  such  fame  ?  What 
advantage  have  you  derived  from  all  your  high  deserts? 
O  hapless  king,  great  Agrican!  if  you  could  return  to 
life,  how  would  you  endure  to  see  yourself  rejected  by 
one  who  will  bow  to  the  yoke  of  Hymen  in  favor  of  a 
young  soldier  of  humble  birth?  And  thou,  Ferrau,  and 
ye  numerous  others  who  a  hundred  times  have  put  your 
lives  at  hazard  for  this  cruel  beauty,  how  bitter  will  it 
be  to  you  to  see  her  sacrifice  you  all  to  the  claims  of 
the  humble  Medoro ! 

There,  under  the  low  roof  of  a  shepherd,  the  flame 
of  Hymen  was  lighted  for  this  haughty  queen.  She 
takes  the  shepherd's  wife  to  serve  in  place  of  mother, 
the  shepherd  and  his  children  for  witnesses,  and  mar- 
ries the  happy  Medoro. 

Angelica,  after  her  marriage,  wishing  to  endow 
Medoro  with  the  sovereignty  of  the  countries  which  yet 
remained  to  her,  took  with  him  the  road  to  the  East. 
She  had  preserved  through  all  her  adventures  a  bracelet 
of  gold  enriched  with  precious  stones,  the  present  of 
the  Count  Orlando.  Having  nothing  else  wherewith  to 
reward  the  good  shepherd  and  his  wife,  who  had  served 
her  with  so  much  care  and  fidelity,  she  took  the  bracelet 
from  her  arm  and  gave  it  to  them,  and  then  the  newly- 
married  couple  directed  their  steps  toward  those  moun- 
tains which  separate  France  and  Spain,  intending  to 
wait  at  Barcelona  a  vessel  which  should  take  them  on 
their  way  to  the  East. 


ORLANDO  MAD  753 


ORLANDO  MAD 

ORLANDO,  on  the  loss  of  Angelica,  laid  aside  his  crest 
and  arms,  and  arrayed  himself  in  a  suit  of  black  armor 
expressive  of  his  despair.  In  this  guise  he  carried  such 
slaughter  among  the  ranks  of  the  infidels  that  both 
armies  were  astonished  at  the  achievements  of  the 
stranger  knight.  Mandricardo,  who  had  been  absent 
from  the  battle,  heard  the  report  of  these  achievements, 
and  determined  to  test  for  himself  the  valor  of  the 
knight  so  extolled.  He  it  was  who  broke  in  upon  the 
conference  of  Zerbino  and  Isabella,  and  their  benefactor 
Orlando,  as  they  stood  occupied  in  mutual  felicitations, 
after  the  happy  reunion  of  the  lovers  by  the  prowess  of 
the  paladin. 

Mandricardo,  after  contemplating  the  group  for  a 
moment,  addressed  himself  to  Orlando  in  these  words : 
"Thou  must  be  the  man  I  seek.  For  ten  days  and 
more  I  have  been  on  thy  track.  The  fame  of  thy  ex- 
ploits has  brought  me  hither,  that  I  may  measure  my 
strength  with  thine.  Thy  crest  and  shield  prove  thee 
the  same  who  spread  such  slaughter  among  our  troops. 
But  these  marks  are  superfluous,  and  if  I  saw  thee 
among  a  hundred  I  should  know  thee  by  thy  martial 
bearing  to  be  the  man  I  seek/' 

"I  respect  thy  courage,"  said  Orlando;  "such  a  design 
could  not  have  sprung  up  in  any  but  a  brave  and  gener- 
ous soul.  If  the  desire  to  see  me  has  brought  thee 
hither,  I  would,  if  it  were  possible,  show  thee  my  inmost 
soul.  I  will  remove  my  visor,  that  you  may  satisfy  your 
curiosity;  but  when  you  have  done  so  I  hope  that  you 
will  also  try  and  see  if  my  valor  corresponds  to  my 
appearance." 

"Come  on,"  said  the  Saracen,  "my  first  wish  was  to 
see  and  know  thee ;  I  will  not  gratify  my  second." 

Orlando,  observing  Mandricardo,  was  surprised  to  see 
no  sword  at  his  side,  nor  mace  at  his  saddle-bow.  "And 
what  weapon  hast  thou,"  said  he.  "if  thy  lance  fail 
thee?" 


754  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"Do  not  concern  yourself  about  that,"  said  Mandri- 
cardo;  "1  have  made  many  good  knights  give  ground 
with  no  other  weapon  than  you  see.  Know  that  I  have 
sworn  an  oath  never  to  bear  a  sword  until  I  win  back 
that  famous  Durindana  that  Orlando,  the  paladin,  car- 
ries. That  sword  belongs  to  the  suit  of  armor  which  1 
wear ;  that  only  is  wanting.  Without  doubt  it  was  stolen, 
but  how  it  got  into  the  hands  of  Orlando  I  know  not. 
Hut  I  will  make  him  pay  dearly  for  it  when  I  find  him 
I  seek  him  the  more  anxiously  that  I  may  avenge  with 
his  blood  the  death  of  King  Agrican,  my  father,  whom 
he  treacherously  slew.  T  am  sure  he  must  have  done 
it  by  treachery,  for  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  subdue 
in  fair  fight  such  a  warrior  as  my  father/' 

"Thou  licst,"  cried  Orlando ;  "and  all  who  say  so  lie. 
I  am  Orlando,  whom  you  seek;  yes,  1  am  he  who  slew 
\our  father  honorably.  Hold,  here  is  the  sword:  you 
shall  have  it  if  your  courage  avails  to  merit  it.  Though 
it  belongs  to  me  by  right,  I  will  not  use  it  in  this  dispute. 
See,  I  hang  it  on  this  tree;  you  shall  be  master  of  it, 
if  you  bereave  me  of  life;  not  else." 

At  these  words  Orlando  drew  Durindana,  and  hung 
it  on  one  of  the  branches  of  a  tree  near  by. 

Both  knights,  boiling  with  equal  ardor,  rode  off  in  a 
semicircle ;  then  rushed  together  with  reins  thrown  loose, 
and  struck  one  another  with  their  lances.  Both  kept 
their  seats,  immovable.  The  splinters  of  their  lances 
flew  into  the  air,  and  no  weapon  remained  for  either 
but  the  fragment  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  Then  those 
two  knights,  covered  with  iron  mail,  were  reduced  to  the 
necessity  of  fighting  with  staves,  in  the  manner  of  two 
rustics,  who  dispute  the  boundary  of  a  meadow,  or  the 
possession  of  a  spring. 

These  clubs  could  not  long  keep  whole  in  the  hands 
oi  such  sturdy  smiters,  who  were  soon  reduced  to  fight 
with  naked  fists.  Such  warfare  was  more  painful  to 
him  that  gave  than  to  him  that  received  the  blows. 
They  next  clasped,  and  strained  each  his  adversary,  as 
Hercules  did  Antaeus.  Mandricardo,  more  enraged  than 
Orlando,  made  violent  efforts  to  unseat  the  paladin,  and 
dropped  the  rein  of  his  horse.  Orlando,  more  calm, 


ORLANDO  MAD  755 

perceived  it.  With  one  hand  he  resisted  Mandricardo, 
with  the  other  he  twitched  the  horse's  bridle  over  the 
ears  of  the  animal.  The  Saracen  dragged  Orlando  with 
all  his  might,  but  Orlando's  thighs  held  the  saddle  like 
a  vise.  At  last  the  efforts  of  the  Saracen  broke  the 
girths  of  Orlando's  horse ;  the  saddle  slipped ;  the  knight, 
firm  in  his  stirrups,  slipped  with  it,  and  came  to  the 
ground  hardly  conscious  of  his  fall.  The  noise  of  his 
armor  in  falling  startled  Mandricardo's  horse,  now  with- 
out a  bridle.  He  started  off  in  full  career,  heeding 
neither  trees  nor  rocks  nor  broken  ground.  Urged  by 
fright,  he  ran  with  furious  speed,  carrying  his  master, 
who,  almost  distracted  with  rage,  shouted  and  beat  the 
animal  with  his  fists,  and  thereby  impelled  his  flight. 
After  running  thus  three  miles  or  more,  a  deep  ditch 
opposed  their  progress.  The  horse  and  rider  fell  head- 
long into  it,  and  did  not  find  the  bottom  covered  with 
feather-beds  or  roses.  They  got  sadly  bruised ;  but  were 
lucky  enough  to  escape  without  any  broken  limbs. 

Mandricardo,  as  soon  as  he  gained  his  feet,  seized 
the  horse  by  his  mane  with  fury ;  but,  having  no  bridle, 
could  not  hold  him.  He  looked  round  in  hopes  of  find- 
ing something  that  would  do  for  a  rein.  Just  then  for- 
tune, who  seemed  willing  to  help  him  at  last,  brought 
that  way  a  peasant  with  a  bridle  in  his  hand,  who  was 
in  search  of  his  farm  horse  that  had  strayed  away. 

Orlando,  having  speedily  repaired  his  horse's  girths, 
remounted,  and  waited  a  good  hour  for  the  Saracen  to 
return.  Not  seeing  him,  he  concluded  to  go  in  search 
of  him.  He  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  Zerbino  and 
Isabella,  who  would  willingly  have  followed  him;  but 
this  the  brave  paladin  would  by  no  means  permit.  He 
held  it  unknightly  to  go  in  search  of  an  enemy  accom- 
panied by  a  friend,  who  might  act  as  a  defender.  There- 
fore, desiring  them  to  say  to  Mandricardo,  if  they  should 
meet  him,  that  his  purpose  was  to  tarry  in  the  neighbor- 
hood three  days,  and  then  repair  to  the  camp  of  Charle- 
magne, he  took  down  Durindana  from  the  tree,  and  pro- 
ceeded in  the  direction  which  the  Saracen's  horse  had 
taken.  But  the  animal,  having  no  guide  but  its  terror, 
had  so  doubled  and  confused  its  traces  that  Orlando, 


756  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

after  two  days  spent  in  the  search,  gave  up  the  at- 
tempt. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  third  day  when  the 
paladin  arrived  on  the  pleasant  bank  of  a  stream  which 
wound  through  a  meadow  enamelled  with  flowers.  High 
trees,  whose  tops  met  and  formed  an  arbor,  over- 
shadowed the  fountain ;  and  the  breeze  which  blew 
through  their  foliage  tempered  the  heat.  Hither  the 
shepherds  used  to  resort  to  quench  their  thirst,  and  to 
enjoy  the  shelter  from  the  midday  sun.  The  air,  per- 
fumed with  the  flowers,  seemed  to  breathe  fresh  strength 
into  their  veins.  Orlando  felt  the  influence,  though  cov- 
ered with  his  armor.  He  stopped  in  this  delicious  arbor, 
where  everything  seemed  to  invite  to  repose.  But  he 
could  not  have  chosen  a  more  fatal  asylum.  He  there 
spent  the  most  miserable  moments  of  his  life. 

He  looked  around,  and  noted  with  pleasure  all  the 
charms  of  the  spot.  He  saw  that  some  of  the  trees 
were  carved  with  inscriptions — he  drew  near,  and  read 
them,  and  what  was  his  surprise  to  find  that  they  com- 
posed the  name  of  Angelica!  Farther  on  he  found  the 
name  of  Medoro  mixed  with  hers.  The  paladin  thought 
he  dreamed.  He  stood  like  one  amazed — like  a  bird 
that,  rising  to  fly,  finds  its  feet  caught  in  a  net. 

Orlando  followed  the  course  of  the  stream,  and  came 
to  one  of  its  turns  where  the  rocks  of  the  mountain 
bent  in  such  a  way  as  to  form  a  sort  of  grotto.  The 
twisted  stems  of  ivy  and  the  wild  vine  draped  the  en- 
trance of  this  recess,  scooped  by  the  hand  of  nature. 

The  unhappy  paladin,  on  entering  the  grotto,  saw  let- 
ters which  appeared  to  have  been  lately  carved.  They 
were  verses  which  Medoro  had  written  in  honor  of  his 
happy  nuptials  with  the  beautiful  queen.  Orlando  tried 
to  persuade  himself  it  must  be  some  other  Angelica 
whom  those  verses  celebrated,  and  as  for  Medoro,  he  had 
never  heard  his  name.  The  sun  was  now  declining,  and 
Orlando  remounted  his  horse,  and  went  on  his  way.  He 
soon  saw  the  roof  of  a  cottage  whence  the  smoke  ascend- 
ed ;  he  heard  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  lowing  of  cattle. 
and  arrived  at  a  humble  dwelling  which  seemed  to  offer 
an  asylum  for  the  night.  The  inmates,  as  soon  as  they 


ORLANDO  MAD  757 

saw  him,  hastened  to  render  him  service.  One  took  his 
horse,  another  his  shield  and  cuirass,  another  his  golden 
spurs.  This  cottage  was  the  very  same  where  Medoro 
had  been  carried,  deeply  wounded, — where  Angelica  had 
tended  him,  and  afterwards  married  him.  The  shep- 
herd who  lived  in  it  loved  to  tell  everybody  the  story 
of  this  marriage,  and  soon  related  it,  with  all  its  details, 
to  the  miserable  Orlando. 

Having  finished  it,  he  went  away,  and  returned  with 
the  precious  bracelet  which  Angelica,  grateful  for  his 
services,  had  given  him  as  a  memorial.  It  was  the  one 
which  Orlando  had  himself  given  her. 

This  last  touch  was  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  excited 
paladin.  Frantic,  exasperated,  he  exclaimed  against  the 
ungrateful  and  cruel  princess  who  had  disdained  him, 
the  most  renowned,  the  most  indomitable  of  all  the  pala- 
dins of  France, — him,  who  had  rescued  her  from  the 
most  alarming  perils, — him,  who  had  fought  the  most 
terrible  battles  for  her  sake, — she  to  prefer  to  him  a 
young  Saracen!  The  pride  of  the  noble  Count  was 
deeply  wounded.  Indignant,  frantic,  a  victim  to  ungov- 
ernable rage,  he  rushed  into  the  forest,  uttering  the  most 
frightful  shrieks. 

"No,  no !"  cried  he,  "I  am  not  the  man  they  take  me 
for !  Orlando  is  dead !  I  am  only  the  wandering  ghost 
of  that  unhappy  Count,  who  is  now  suffering  me  tor- 
ments of  hell!" 

Orlando  wandered  all  night,  as  chance  directed, 
through  the  wood,  and  at  sunrise  his  destiny  led  him  to 
the  fountain  where  Medoro  had  engraved  the  fatal  in- 
scription. The  frantic  paladin  saw  it  a  second  time  with 
fury,  drew  his  sword,  and  hacked  it  from  the  rock. 

Unlucky  grotto!  you  shall  no  more  attract  by  your 
shade  and  coolness,  you  shall  no  more  shelter  with  your 
arch  either  shepherd  or  flock.  And  you,  fresh  and  pure 
fountain,  you  may  not  escape  the  rage  of  the  furious 
Orlando!  He  cast  into  the  fountain  branches,  trunks' 
of  trees  which  he  tore  up,  pieces  of  rocks  which  he 
broke  off,  plants  uprooted,  with  the  earth  adhering,  and 
turf  and  brushes,  so  as  to  choke  the  fountain,  and 
destroy  the  purity  of  its  waters.  At  length,  exhausted 


758  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

by  his  violent  exertions,  bathed  in  sweat,  breathless, 
Orlando  sunk  panting  upon  the  earth,  and  lay  there  in- 
sensible thr^e  days  and  three  nights. 

The  fourth  day  he  started  up  and  seized  his  arms. 
His  helmet,  his  buckler,  he  cast  far  from  him;  his 
hauberk  and  his  clothes  he  rent  asunder;  the  fragments 
were  scattered  through  the  wood.  In  fine,  he  became  a 
furious  madman.  His  insanity  was  such  that  he  cared 
not  to  retain  even  his  sword.  But  he  had  no  need  of 
Durindana,  nor  of  other  arms,  to  do  wonderful  things. 
His  prodigious  strength  sufficed.  At  the  first  wrench 
of  his  mighty  arm  he  tore  up  a  pine-tree  by  the  roots. 
Oaks,  beeches,  maples,  whatever  he  met  in  his  path, 
yielded  in  like  manner.  The  ancient  forest  soon  became 
as  bare  as  the  borders  of  a  morass,  where  the  fowler  has 
cleared  away  the  bushes  to  spread  his  nets.  The  shep- 
herds, hearing  the  horrible  crashing  in  the  forest,  aban- 
doned their  flocks  to  run  and  see  the  cause  of  this  un- 
wonted uproar.  By  their  evil  star,  or  for  their  sins,  they 
were  led  thither.  When  they  saw  the  furious  state  the 
Count  was  in,  and  his  incredible  force,  they  would  fain 
have  fled  out  of  his  reach,  but  in  their  fears  lost  their 
presence  of  mind.  The  madman  pursued  them,  seized 
one  and  rent  him  limb  from  limb,  as  easily  as  one  would 
pull  ripe  apples  from  a  tree.  He  took  another  by  the 
feet,  and  used  him  as  a  club  to  knock  down  a  third. 
The  shepherds  fled ;  but  it  would  have  been  hard  for 
any  to  escape,  if  he  had  not  at  that  moment  left  them 
to  throw  himself  with  the  same  fury  upon  their  flocks. 
The  peasants,  abandoning  their  ploughs  and  harrows, 
mounted  on  the  roofs  of  buildings  and  pinnacles  of  the 
rocks,  afraid  to  trust  themselves  even  to  the  oaks  and 
pines.  From  such  heights  they  looked  on,  trembling  at 
the  raging  fury  of  the  unhappy  Orlando.  His  fists,  his 
teeth,  his  nails,  his  feet,  seize,  break,  and  tear  cattle, 
sheep,  and  swine;  the  most  swift  in  flight  alone  being 
able  to  escape  him. 

When  at  last  terror  had  scattered  everything  before 
him,  he  entered  a  cottage  which  was  abandoned  by  its 
inhabitants,  and  there  found  that  which  served  for  food. 
His  long  fast  had  caused  him  to  feel  the  most  ravenous 


ORLANDO  MAD  759 

hunger.  Seizing  whatever  he  found  that  was  eatable, 
whether  roots,  acorns,  or  bread,  raw  meat  or  cooked,  he 
gorged  it  indiscriminately. 

Issuing  thence  again,  the  frantic  Orlando  gave  chase 
to  whatever  living  thing  he  saw,  whether  men  or  ani- 
mals. Sometimes  he  pursued  the  deer  and  hind,  some- 
times he  attacked  bears  and  wolves,  and  with  his  naked 
hands  killed  and  tore  them,  and  devoured  their  flesh. 

Thus  he  wandered,  from  place  to  place,  through 
France,  imperilling  his  life  a  thousand  ways,  yet  always 
preserved  by  some  mysterious  providence  from  a  fatal 
result.  But  here  we  leave  Orlando  for  a  time,  that  we 
may  record  what  befell  Zerbino  and  Isabella  after  their 
parting  with  him. 

The  prince  and  his  fair  bride  waited,  by  Orlando's 
request,  near  the  scene  of  the  battle  for  three  days,  that, 
if  Mandricardo  should  return,  they  might  inform  him 
where  Orlando  would  give  him  another  meeting1.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  their  anxiety  to  know  the  issue 
led  them  to  follow  Orlando's  traces,  which  led  them  at 
last  to  the  wood  where  the  trees  were  inscribed  with  the 
names  of  Angelica  and  Medoro.  They  remarked  how 
all  these  inscriptions  were  defaced,  and  how  the  grotto 
was  disordered,  and  the  fountain  clogged  with  rubbish. 
But  that  which  surprised  them  and  distressed  them  most 
of  all  was  to  find  on  the  grass  the  cuirass  of  Orlando, 
and  not  far  from  it  his  helmet,  the  same  which  the 
renowned  Almontes  once  wore. 

Hearing  a  horse  neigh  in  the  forest,  Zerbino  turned 
his  eyes  in  that  direction,  and  saw  Brigliadoro,  with  the 
bridle  yet  hanging  at  the  saddle-bow.  He  looked  round 
for  Durindana,  and  found  that  famous  sword,  without 
the  scabbard,  lying  on  the  grass.  He  saw  also  the  frag- 
ments of  Orlando's  other  arms  and  clothing  scattered 
on  all  sides  over  the  plain. 

Zerbino  and  Isabella  stood  in  astonishment  and  grief, 
not  knowing  what  to  think,  but  little  imagining  the  true 
cause.  If  they  had  found  any  marks  of  blood  on  the 
arms  or  on  the  fragments  of  the  clothing,  they  would 
have  supposed  him  slain,  but  there  were  none.  While 
they  were  in  this  painful  uncertainty  they  saw  a  young 


760  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

peasant  approach.  He,  not  yet  recovered  from  the  ter- 
ror of  the  scene,  which  he  had  witnessed  from  the  top 
of  a  rock,  told  them  the  whole  of  the  sad  events. 

Zerbino,  with  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  carefully  col- 
lected all  the  scattered  arms.  Isabella  also  dismounted 
to  aid  him  in  the  sad  duty.  When  they  had  collected 
all  the  pieces  of  that  rich  armor  they  hung  them  like 
a  trophy  on  a  pine;  and  to  prevent  their  being  violated 
by  any  passers-by,  Zerbino  inscribed  on  the  bark  this 
caution :  "These  are  the  arms  of  the  Paladin  Orlando." 

Having  finished  this  pious  work,  he  remounted  his 
horse,  and  just  then  a  knight  rode  up,  and  requested 
Zerbino  to  tell  him  the  meaning  of  the  trophy.  The 
prince  related  the  facts  as  they  had  happened;  and 
Mandricardo,  for  it  was  that  Saracen  knight,  full  of 
joy,  rushed  forward,  and  seized  the  sword,  saying,  "No 
one  can  censure  me  for  what  I  do ;  this  sword  is  mine ; 
I  can  take  my  own  wherever  I  find  it.  It  is  plain  that 
Orlando,  not  daring  to  defend  it  against  me,  has  coun- 
terfeited madness  to  excuse  him  in  surrendering  it." 

Zerbino  vehemently  exclaimed,  "Touch  not  that  sword. 
Think  not  to  possess  it  without  a  contest.  If  it  be  true 
that  the  arms  you  wear  are  those  of  Hector,  you  must 
have  got  them  by  theft,  and  not  by  prowess." 

Immediately  they  attacked  one  another  with  the  ut- 
most fury.  The  air  resounded  with  thick-falling  blows. 
Zerbino,  skilful  and  alert,  evaded  for  a  time  with  good 
success  the  strokes  of  Durindana ;  but  at  length  a  terrible 
blow  struck  him  on  the  neck.  He  fell  from  his  horse, 
and  the  Tartar  king,  possessed  of  the  spoils  of  his  vic- 
tory, rode  away. 


ZERBINO   AND    ISABELLA 

ZERBINO'S  pain  at  seeing  the  Tartar  prince  go  off  with 
the  sword  surpassed  the  anguish  of  his  wound;  but  now 
the  loss  of  blood  so  reduced  his  strength  that  he  could 
not  move  from  where  he  fell.  Isabella,  not  knowing 
whither  to  resort  for  help,  could  only  bemoan  him,  and 
chide  her  cruel  fate.  Zerbino  said,  "If  I  could  but 


ZERBINO  AND  ISABELLA  761 

leave  thee,  my  best  beloved,  in  some  secure  abode,  it 
would  not  distress  me  to  die;  but  to  abandon  thee  so, 
without  protection,  is  sad  indeed."  She  replied,  "Think 
not  to  leave  *i?e,  dearest;  our  souls  shall  not  be  parted; 
this  sword  will  give  me  the  means  to  follow  thee." 
Zerbino's  last  words  implored  her  to  banish  such  a 
thought,  but  live,  and  be  true  to  his  memory.  Isabella 
promised,  with  many  tears,  to  be  faithful  to  him  so  long 
as  life  should  last. 

When  he  ceased  to  breathe,  Isabella's  cries  resounded 
through  the  forest,  and  reached  the  ears  of  a  reverend 
hermit,  who  hastened  to  the  spot.  He  soothed  and 
calmed  her,  urging  those  consolations  which  the  word 
of  God  supplies;  and  at  last  brought  her  to  wish  for 
nothing  else  but  to  devote  herself  for  the  rest  of  life 
wholly  to  religion. 

As  she  could  not  bear  the  thoughts  of  leaving  her  dead 
lord  abandoned,  the  body  was,  by  the  good  hermit's  aid, 
placed  upon  the  horse,  and  taken  to  the  nearest  inhabited 
place,  where  a  chest  was  made  for  it,  suitable  to  be  car- 
ried with  them  on  their  way.  The  hermit's  plan  was  to 
escort  his  charge  to  a  monastery,  not  many  days'  journey 
distant,  where  Isabella  resolved  to  spend  the  remainder 
of  her  days.  Thus  they  travelled  day  after  day,  choos- 
ing the  most  retired  ways,  for  the  country  was  full  of 
armed  men.  One  day  a  cavalier  met  them,  and  barred 
their  way.  It  was  no  other  than  Rodomont,  king  of 
Algiers,  who  had  just  left  the  camp  of  Agramant,  full 
of  indignation  at  the  treatment  he  had  received  from 
Doralice.  At  sight  of  the  lovely  lady  and  her  reverend 
attendant,  with  their  horse  laden  with  a  burden  draped 
with  black,  he  asked  the  meaning  of  their  journey.  Isa- 
bella told  him  her  affliction,  and  her  resolution  to  re- 
nounce the  world  and  devote  herself  to  religion,  and  to 
the  memory  of  the  friend  she  had  lost.  Rodomont 
laughed  scornfully  at  this,  and  told  her  that  her  project 
was  absurd;  that  charms  like  hers  were  meant  to  be 
enjoyed,  not  buried,  and  that  he  himself  would  more 
than  make  amends  for  her  dead  lover.  The  monk,  who 
promptly  interposed  to  rebuke  this  impious  talk,  was 
commanded  to  hold  his  peace;  and  still  persisting  was 


762  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

seized  by  the  knight  and  hurled  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  where  he  fell  into  the  sea,  and  was  drowned. 

Rodomont,  when  he  had  got  rid  of  the  hermit,  again 
applied  to  the  sad  lady,  heartless  with  affright,  and,  in 
the  language  used  by  lovers,  said,  "she  was  his  very 
heart,  his  life,  his  light."  Having  laid  aside  all  vio- 
lence, he  humbly  sued  that  she  would  accompany  him  to 
his  retreat,  near  by.  It  was  a  ruined  chapel  from  which 
the  monks  had  been  driven  by  the  disorders  of  the  time, 
and  which  Rodomont  had  taken  possession  of.  Isabella, 
who  had  no  choice  but  to  obey,  followed  him,  meditating 
as  she  went  what  resource  she  could  find  to  escape  out  of 
his  power,  and  keep  her  vow  to  her  dead  husband,  to  be 
faithful  to  his  memory  as  long  as  life  should  last.  At 
length  she  said,  "If,  my  lord,  you  will  let  me  go  and 
fulfil  my  vow,  and  my  intention,  as  I  have  already  de- 
clared it,  I  will  bestow  upon  you  what  will  be  to  you 
of  more  value  than  a  hundred  women's  hearts.  I  know 
an  herb,  and  I  have  seen  it  on  our  way,  which,  rightly 
prepared,  affords  a  juice  of  such  power,  that  the  flesh, 
if  laved  with  it,  becomes  impenetrable  to  sword  or  fire. 
This  liquor  I  can  make,  and  will,  to-day,  if  you  will 
accept  my  offer ;  and  when  you  have  seen  its  virtue  you 
will  value  it  more  than  if  all  Europe  were  made  your 
own." 

Rodomont,  at  hearing  this,  readily  promised  all  that 
was  asked,  so  eager  was  he  to  learn  a  secret  that  would 
make  him  as  Achilles  was  of  yore.  Isabella,  having  col- 
lected such  herbs  as  she  thought  proper,  and  boiled  them, 
with  certain  mysterious  signs  and  words,  at  length  de- 
clared her  labor  done,  and,  as  a  test,  offered  to  try  its 
virtue  on  herself.  She  bathed  her  neck  and  bosom  with 
the  liquor,  and  then  called  on  Rodomont  to  smite  with 
all  his  force,  and  see  whether  his  sword  had  power  to 
harm.  The  pagan,  who  during  the  preparations  had 
taken  frequent  draughts  of  wine,  and  scarce  knew  what 
he  did,  drew  his  sword  at  the  word,  and  struck  across 
her  neck  with  all  his  might,  and  the  fair  head  leapt  sun- 
dered from  the  snowy  neck  and  breast. 

Rude  and  unfeeling  as  he  was,  the  pagan  knight 
lamented  bitterly  this  sad  result.  To  honor  her  mem- 


ZERBINO  AND  ISABELLA  763 

ory  he  resolved  to  do  a  work  as  unparalleled  as  her  devo- 
tion. From  all  parts  round  he  caused  laborers  to  be 
brought,  and  had  a  tower  built  to  enclose  the  chapel, 
within  which  the  remains  of  Zerbino  and  Isabella  were 
entombed.  Across  the  stream  which  flowed  near  by  he 
built  a  bridge,  scarce  two  yards  wide,  and  added  neither 
parapet  nor  rail.  On  the  top  of  the  tower  a  sentry  was 
placed,  who,  when  any  traveller  approached  the  bridge, 
gave  notice  to  his  master.  Rodomont  thereupon  sallied 
out,  and  defied  the  approaching  knight  to  fight  him  upon 
the  bridge,  where  any  chance  step  a  little  aside  would 
plunge  the  rider  headlong  in  the  stream.  This  bridge 
he  vowed  to  keep  until  a  thousand  suits  of  armor 
should  be  won  from  conquered  knights,  wherewith  to 
build  a  trophy  to  his  victim  and  her  lord. 

Within  ten  days  the  bridge  was  built,  and  the  tower 
was  in  progress.  In  a  short  time  many  knights,  either 
seeking  the  shortest  route,  or  tempted  by  a  desire  of 
adventure,  had  made  the  attempt  to  pass  the  bridge. 
All,  without  exception,  had  lost  either  arms  or  life,  or 
both;  some  falling  before  Rodomont's  lance,  others  pre- 
cipitated into  the  river.  One  day,  as  Rodomont  stood 
urging  his  workmen,  it  chanced  that  Orlando  in  his 
furious  mood  came  thither,  and  approached  the  bridge. 
Rodomont  halloed  to  him,  "Halt,  churl ;  presume  not  to 
set  foot  upon  that  bridge;  it  was  not  made  for  such  as 
you!"  Orlando  took  no  notice,  but  pressed  on.  Just 
then  a  gentle  damsel  rode  up.  It  was  Flordelis,  who 
was  seeking  her  Florismart.  She  saw  Orlando,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  strange  appearance,  recognized  him.  Rodo- 
mont, not  used  to  have  his  commands  disobeyed,  laid 
hands  on  the  madman,  and  would  have  thrown  him  into 
the  river,  but  to  his  astonishment  found  himself  in  the 
gripe  of  one  not  so  easily  disposed  of.  "How  can  a  fool 
have  such  strength?"  he  growled  between  his  teeth. 
Flordelis  stopped  to  see  the  issue,  where  each  of  these 
two  puissant  warriors  strove  to  throw  the  other  from 
the  bridge.  Orlando  at  last  had  strength  enough  to  lift 
his  foe  with  all  his  armor,  and  fling  him  over  the  side, 
but  had  not  wit  to  clear  himself  from  him,  so  both  fell 
together.  High  flashed  the  wave  as  they  together  smote 


764  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

its  surface.  Here  Orlando  had  the  advantage;  he  was 
naked,  and  could  swim  like  a  fish.  He  soon  reached  the 
bank,  and,  careless  of  praise  or  blame,  stopped  not  to  see 
what  came  of  the  adventure.  Rodomont,  entangled  with 
his  armor,  escaped  with  difficulty  to  the  bank.  Mean- 
time, Flordclis  passed  the  bridge  unchallenged. 

After  long  wandering  without  success  she  returned  to 
Paris,  and  there  found  the  object  of  her  search;  for 
Florismart,  after  the  fall  of  Albracca,  had  repaired 
thither.  The  joy  of  meeting  was  clouded  to  Florismart 
by  the  news  which  Flordelis  brought  of  Orlando's 
wretched  plight.  The  last  she  had  seen  of  him  was  when 
he  fell  with  Rodomont  into  the  stream.  Florismart,  who 
loved  Orlando  like  a  brother,  resolved  to  set  out  imme- 
diately, under  the  guidance  of  the  lady,  to  find  him,  and 
bring  him  where  he  might  receive  the  treatment  suited  to 
his  case.  A  few  days  brought  them  to  the  place  where 
they  found  the  Tartar  king  still  guarding  the  bridge. 
The  usual  challenge  and  defiance  was  made,  and  the 
knights  rode  to  encounter  one  another  on  the  bridge.  At 
the  first  encounter  both  horses  were  overthrown ;  and, 
having  no  space  to  regain  their  footing,  fell  with  their 
riders  into  the  water.  Rodomont,  who  knew  the  sound- 
ings of  the  stream,  soon  recovered  the  land;  but  Floris- 
mart was  carried  downward  by  the  current,  and  landed 
at  last  on  a  bank  of  mud  where  his  horse  could  hardly 
find  footing.  Flordelis,  who  watched  the  battle  from 
the  bridge,  seeing  her  lover  in  this  piteous  case,  ex- 
claimed aloud,  "Ah!  Rodomont,  for  love  of  her  whom 
dead  you  honor,  have  pity  on  me,  who  love  this  knight, 
and  slay  him  not.  Let  it  suffice  he  yields  his  armor 
to  the  pile,  and  none  more  glorious  will  it  bear  than 
his."  Her  prayer,  so  well  directed,  touched  the  pagan's 
heart,  though  hard  to  move,  and  he  lent  his  aid  to  help 
the  knight  to  land.  He  kept  him  a  prisoner,  however, 
and  added  his  armor  to  the  pile.  Flordelis,  with  a  heavy 
heart,  went  her  way. 

We  must  now  return  to  Rogero,  who,  when  we  part- 
ed with  him,  was  engaged  in  an  adventure  which  ar- 
rested his  progress  to  the  monastery  whither  he  was 
bound  with  the  intention  of  receiving  baptism,  and  thus 


ZERBINO  AND  ISABELLA  765 

qualifying  himself  to  demand  Bradamante  as  his  bride. 
On  his  way  he  met  with  Mandricardo,  and  the  quarrel 
was  revived  respecting  the  right  to  wear  the  badge  of 
Hector.  After  a  warm  discussion  both  parties  agreed  to 
submit  the  question  to  King  Agramant,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose took  their  way  to  the  Saracen  camp.  Here  they 
met  Gradasso,  who  had  his  controversy  also  with  Man- 
dricardo. This  warrior  claimed  the  sword  of  Orlando, 
denying  the  right  of  Mandricardo  to  possess  it  in  virtue 
of  his  having  found  it  abandoned  by  its  owner.  King 
Agramant  strove  in  vain  to  reconcile  these  quarrels,  and 
was  forced  at  last  to  consent  that  the  points  in  dispute 
should  be  settled  by  one  combat,  in  which  Mandricardo 
should  meet  one  of  the  other  champions,  to  whom  should 
be  committed  the  cause  of  both.  Rogero  was  chosen  by 
lot  to  maintain  Gradasso's  cause  and  his  own.  Great 
preparations  were  made  for  this  signal  contest.  On  the 
appointed  day  it  was  fought  in  the  presence  of  Agra- 
mant, and  of  the  whole  army.  Rogero  won  it;  and 
Mandricardo,  the  conqueror  of  Hector's  arms,  the  chal- 
lenger of  Orlando,  and  the  slayer  of  Zerbino,  lost  his 
life.  Gradasso  received  Durindana  as  his  prize,  which 
lost  half  its  value  in  his  eyes,  since  it  was  won  by  an- 
other's prowess,  not  his  own. 

Rogero,  though  victorious,  was  severely  wounded,  and 
lay  helpless  many  weeks  in  the  camp  of  Agramant,  while 
Bradamante,  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  his  delay,  expected 
him  at  Montalban.  Thither  he  had  promised  to  repair  in 
fifteen  days,  or  twenty  at  furthest,  hoping  to  have  ob- 
tained by  that  time  an  honorable  discharge  from  his 
obligations  to  the  Saracen  commander.  The  twenty  days 
were  passed,  and  a  month  more,  and  still  Rogero  came 
not,  nor  did  ar  y  tidings  reach  Bradamante  accounting 
for  his  absence.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  a  wandering 
knight  brought  news  of  the  famous  combat,  and  of  Rp- 
gero's  wound.  He  added,  what  alarmed  Bradamante  still 
more,  that  Marphisa,  a  female  warrior,  young  and  fair, 
was  in  attendance  on  the  wounded  knight.  He  added 
that  the  whole  army  expected  that,  as  soon  as  Rogero's 
wounds  were  healed,  the  pair  would  be  united  in  mar- 
riage. 


766  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Bradamante,  distressed  by  this  news,  though  she  be- 
lieved it  but  in  part,  resolved  to  go  immediately  and  see 
for  herself.  She  mounted  Rabican,  the  horse  of  As- 
tolpho,  which  he  had  committed  to  her  care,  and  took 
with  her  the  lance  of  gold,  though  unaware  of  its  won- 
derful powers.  Thus  accoutred,  she  left  the  castle,  and 
took  the  road  toward  Paris  and  the  camp  of  the  Sara- 
cens. 

Marphisa,  whose  devotion  to  Rogero  in  his  illness  had 
so  excited  the  jealousy  of  Bradamante,  was  the  twin  sister 
of  Rogero.  She,  with  him,  had  been  taken  in  charge  when 
an  infant  by  Atlantes,  the  magician,  but  while  yet  a 
child  she  had  been  stolen  away  by  an  Arab  tribe.  Adopt- 
ed by  their  chief,  she  had  early  learned  horsemanship 
and  skill  in  arms,  and  at  this  time  had  come  to  the  camp 
of  Agramant  with  no  other  view  than  to  see  and  test 
for  herself  the  prowess  of  the  warriors  of  either  camp, 
whose  fame  rang  through  the  world.  Arriving  at  the 
very  moment  of  the  late  encounter,  the  name  of  Rogero, 
and  some  few  facts  of  his  story  which  she  learned,  were 
enough  to  suggest  the  idea  that  it  was  her  brother  whom 
she  saw  victorious  in  the  single  combat.  Inquiry  satis- 
fied the  two  of  their  near  kindred,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment Marphisa  devoted  herself  to  the  care  of  her  new- 
found and  much-loved  brother. 

In  those  moments  of  seclusion  Rogero  informed  his 
sister  of  what  he  had  learned  of  their  parentage  from 
old  Atlantes.  Rogero,  their  father,  a  Christian  knight, 
had  won  the  heart  of  Galaciella,  daughter  of  the  Sultan 
of  Africa,  and  sister  of  King  Agramant,  converted  her 
to  the  Christian  faith,  and  secretly  married  her.  The 
Sultan,  enraged  at  his  daughter's  marriage,  drove  her 
husband  into  exile,  and  caused  her  with  her  infant  chil- 
dren, Rogero  and  Marphisa,  to  be  placed  in  a  boat  and 
committed  to  the  winds  and  waves,  to  perish;  from 
which  fate  they  were  saved  by  Atlantes.  On  hearing 
this,  Marphisa  exclaimed,  "How  can  you,  brother,  leave 
our  parents  unavenged  so  long,  and  even  submit  to  serve 
the  son  of  the  tyrant  who  so  wronged  them?"  Rogero 
replied  that  it  was  but  lately  he  had  learned  the  full 
truth;  that  when  he  learned  it  he  was  already  embarked 


ZERBINO  AND  ISABELLA  767 

with  Agramant,  from  whom  he  had  received  knighthood, 
and  that  he  only  waited  for  a  suitable  opportunity  when 
he  might  with  honor  desert  his  standard,  and  at  the  same 
time  return  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers.  Marphisa  hailed 
this  resolution  with  joy,  and  declared  her  intention  to 
join  with  him  in  embracing  the  Christian  faith. 


We  left  Bradamante  when,  mounted  on  Rabican  and 
armed  with  Astolpho's  lance,  she  rode  forth,  determined 
to  learn  the  cause  of  Rogero's  long  absence.  One  day. 
as  she  rode,  she  met  a  damsel,  of  visage  and  of  manners 
fair,  but  overcome  with  grief.  It  was  Flordelis,  who 
was  seeking  far  and  near  a  champion  capable  of  liber- 
ating and  avenging  her  lord.  Flordelis  marked  the  ap- 
proaching warrior,  and,  judging  from  appearances, 
thought  she  had  found  the  champion  she  sought.  "Are 
you,  Sir  Knight/'  she  said,  "so  daring  and  so  kind  as 
to  take  up  my  cause  against  a  fierce  and  cruel  warrior 
who  has  made  prisoner  of  my  lord,  and  forced  me  thus 
to  be  a  wanderer  and  a  suppliant?"  Then  she  related 
the  events  which  had  happened  at  the  bridge.  Brada- 
mante, to  whom  noble  enterprises  were  always  welcome, 
readily  embraced  this,  and  the  rather  as  in  her  gloomy 
forebodings  she  felt  as  if  Rogero  was  forever  lost  to 
her. 

Next  day  the  two  arrived  at  the  bridge.  The  sen- 
try descried  them  approaching,  and  gave  notice  to 
his  lord,  who  thereupon  donned  his  armor  and  went 
forth  to  meet  them.  Here,  as  usual,  he  called  on  the 
advancing  warrior  to  yield  his  horse  and  arms  an  obla- 
tion to  the  tomb.  Bradamante  replied,  asking  by  what 
right  he  called  on  the  innocent  to  do  penance  for  his 
crime.  "Your  life  and  your  armor,"  she  added,  "are 
the  fittest  offering  to  her  tomb,  and  I,  a  woman,  the 
fittest  champion  to  take  them."  With  that  she  couched 
her  spear,  spurred  her  horse,  and  ran  to  the  encounter. 
King  Rodomont  came  on  with  speed.  The  trampling 
sounded  on  the  bridge  like  thunder.  It  took  but  a  mo- 
ment to  decide  the  contest.  The  golden  lance  did  its 


768  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

office,  and  that  fierce  Moor,  so  renowned  in  tourney,  lay 
extended  on  the  bridge.  "Who  is  the  loser  now?"  said 
Bradamante;  but  Rodomont,  amazed  that  a  woman's 
hand  should  have  laid  him  low,  could  not  or  would  not 
answer.  Silent  and  sad,  he  raised  himself,  unbound  his 
helm  and  mail,  and  flung  them  against  the  tomb;  then, 
sullen  and  on  foot,  left  the  ground ;  but  first  gave  orders 
to  one  of  his  squires  to  release  all  his  prisoners.  They 
had  been  sent  off  to  Africa.  Besides  Florismart,  there 
were  Sansonnet  and  Oliver,  who  had  ridden  that  way  in 
quest  of  Orlando,  and  had  both  in  turn  been  over- 
thrown in  the  encounter. 

Bradamante  after  her  victory  resumed  her  route,  and 
in  due  time  reached  the  Christian  camp,  where  she  readily 
learned  an  explanation  of  the  mystery  which  had  caused 
her  so  much  anxiety.  Rogero  and  his  fair  and  brave 
sister,  Marphisa,  were  too  illustrious  by  their  station 
and  exploits  not  to  be  the  frequent  topic  of  discourse 
even  among  their  adversaries,  and  all  that  Bradamante 
was  anxious  to  know  reached  her  ear,  almost  without 
inquiry. 

We  now  return  to  Gradasso,  who  by  Rogero's  vic- 
tory had  been  made  possessor  of  Durindana.  There  now 
only  remained  to  him  to  seek  the  horse  of  Rinaldo;  and 
the  challenge,  given  and  accepted,  was  yet  to  be  fought 
with  that  warrior,  for  it  had  been  interrupted  by  the 
arts  of  Malagigi.  Gradasso  now  sought  another  meet- 
ing with  Rinaldo,  and  met  with  no  reluctance  on  his 
part.  As  the  combat  was  for  the  possession  of  Bayard, 
the  knights  dismounted  and  fought  on  foot.  Long  time 
the  battle  lasted.  Rinaldo,  knowing  well  the  deadly 
stroke  of  Durindana,  used  all  his  art  to  parry  or  avoid 
its  blow.  Gradasso  struck  with  might  and  main,  but 
wellnigh  all  his  strokes  were  spent  in  air,  or  if  they 
smote  they  fell  obliquely  and  did  little  harm. 

Thus  had  they  fought  long,  glancing  at  one  another's 
eyes,  and  seeing  naught  else,  when  their  attention  was 
arrested  perforce  by  a  strange  noise.  They  turned,  and 
beheld  the  good  Bayard  attacked  by  a  monstrous  bird. 
Perhaps  it  was  a  bird,  for  such  it  seemed;  but  when 
or  where  such  a  bird  was  ever  seen  I  have  nowhere 


ASTOLPHO  IN  ABYSSINIA  769 

read,  except  in  Turpin;  and  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
that  it  was  not  a  bird,  but  a  fiend,  evoked  from  under- 
ground by  Malagigi,  and  thither  sent  on  purpose  to  in- 
terrupt the  fight.  Whether  a  fiend  or  a  fowl,  the  mon- 
ster flew  right  at  Bayard,  and  clapped  his  wings  in  his 
face.  Thereat  the  steed  broke  loose,  and  ran  madly 
across  the  plain,  pursued  by  the  bird,  till  Bayard  plunged 
into  the  wood,  and  was  lost  to  sight. 

Rinaldo  and  Gradasso,  seeing  Bayard's  escape,  agreed 
to  suspend  their  battle  till  they  could  recover  the  horse, 
the  object  of  contention.  Gradasso  mounted  his  steed, 
and  followed  the  foot-marks  of  Bayard  into  the  forest. 
Rinaldo,  never  more  vexed  in  spirit,  remained  at  the 
spot,  Gradasso  having  promised  to  return  thither  with 
the  horse,  if  he  found  him.  He  did  find  him,  after  long 
search,  for  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  him  neigh. 
Thus  he  became  possessed  of  both  the  objects  for  which 
he  had  led  an  army  from  his  own  country,  and  invaded 
France.  He  did  not  forget  his  promise  to  bring  Bayard 
back  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  Rinaldo,  but  only 
muttering,  "Now  I  have  got  him,  he  little  knows  me  who 
expects  me  to  give  him  up;  if  Rinaldo  wants  the  horse 
let  him  seek  him  in  India,  as  I  have  sought  him  in 
France," — he  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  Aries,  where 
his  vessels  lay;  and  in  possession  of  the  two  objects  of 
his  ambition,  the  horse  and  the  sword,  sailed  away  to  his 
own  country. 


ASTOLPHO  IN  ABYSSINIA 

WHEN  we  last  parted  with  the  adventurous  paladin 
Astolpho,  he  was  just  commencing  that  flight  over  the 
countries  of  the  world  from  which  he  promised  him- 
self so  much  gratification.  Our  readers  are  aware  that 
the  eagle  and  the  falcon  have  not  so  swift  a  flight  as 
the  Hippogriff  on  which  Astolpho  rode.  It  was  not 
long,  therefore,  before  the  paladin,  directing  his  course 
toward  the  southeast,  arrived  over  that  part  of  Africa 
where  the  great  river  Nile  has  its  source.  Here  he 


770  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

alighted,  and  found  himself  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
capital  of  Abyssinia,  ruled  by  Senapus,  whose  riches 
and  power  were  immense.  His  palace  was  of  surpass- 
ing splendor ;  the  bars  of  the  gates,  the  hinges  and  locks, 
were  all  of  pure  gold;  in  fact,  this  metal,  in  that  coun- 
try, is  put  to  all  those  uses  for  which  we  employ  iron. 
It  is  so  common  that  they  prefer  for  ornamental  pur- 
poses rock  crystal,  of  which  all  the  columns  were  made. 
Precious  stones  of  different  kinds,  rubies,  emeralds,  sap- 
phires, and  topazes  were  set  in  ornamental  designs,  and 
the  walls  and  ceilings  were  adorned  with  pearls. 

It  is  in  this  country  those  famous  balms  grow  of 
which  there  are  some  few  plants  in  that  part  of  Judaea 
called  Gilead.  Musk,  ambergris,  and  numerous  gums, 
so  precious  in  Europe,  are  here  in  their  native  climate. 
It  is  said  the  Sultan  of  Egypt  pays  a  vast  tribute  to  the 
monarch  of  this  country  to  hire  him  not  to  cut  off  the 
source  of  the  Nile,  which  he  might  easily  do,  and  cause 
the  river  to  flow  in  some  other  direction,  thus  depriving 
Egypt  of  the  source  of  its  fertility. 

At  the  time  of  Astolpho's  arrival  in  his  dominions, 
this  monarch  was  in  great  affliction.  In  spite  of  his 
riches  and  the  precious  productions  of  his  country,  he 
was  in  danger  of  dying  of  hunger.  He  was  a  prey  to 
a  flock  of  obscene  birds  called  Harpies,  which  attacked 
him  whenever  he  sat  at  meat,  and  with  their  claws 
snatched,  tore,  and  scattered  everything,  overturning  the 
vessels,  devouring  the  food,  and  infecting  what  they 
left  with  their  filthy  touch.  It  was  said  this  punishment 
was  inflicted  upon  the  king  because  when  young,  and 
filled  with  pride  and  presumption,  he  had  attempted  to 
invade  with  an  army  the  terrestrial  paradise,  which  is 
situated  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  whence  the  Nile  draws 
its  source.  Nor  was  this  his  only  punishment.  He  was 
struck  blind. 

Astolpho,  on  arriving  in  the  dominions  of  this  mon- 
arch, hastened  to  pay  him  his  respects.  King  Senapus 
received  him  graciously,  and  ordered  a  splendid  repast 
to  be  prepared  in  honor  of  his  arrival.  While  the  guests 
were  seated  at  table,  Astolpho  filling  the  place  of  dig- 
nity at  the  king's  right  hand,  the  horrid  scream  of  the 


ASTOLPHO  IN  ABYSSINIA  771 

Harpies  was  heard  in  the  air,  and  soon  they  approached, 
hovering  over  the  tables,  seizing  the  food  from  the 
dishes,  and  overturning  everything  with  the  flapping  of 
their  broad  wings.  In  vain  the  guests  struck  at  them 
with  knives  and  any  weapons  which  they  had,  and  As- 
tolpho drew  his  sword  and  gave  them  repeated  blows, 
which  seemed  to  have  no  more  effect  upon  them  than 
if  their  bodies  had  been  made  of  tow. 

At  last  Astolpho  thought  of  his  horn.  He  first  gave 
warning  to  the  king  and  his  guests  to  stop  their  ears; 
then  blew  a  blast.  The  Harpies,  terrified  at  the  sound, 
flew  away  as  fast  as  their  wings  could  carry  them.  The 
paladin  mounted  his  Hippogriff,  and  pursued  them, 
blowing  his  horn  as  often  as  he  came  near  them.  They 
stretched  their  flight  towards  the  great  mountain,  at  the 
foot  of  which  there  is  a  cavern,  which  is  thought  to  be 
the  mouth  of  the  infernal  abodes.  Hither  those  horrid 
birds  flew,  as  if  to  their  home.  Having  seen  them  all 
disappear  in  the  recess,  Astolpho  cared  not  to  pursue 
them  farther,  but  alighting,  rolled  huge  stones  into  the 
mouth  of  the  cave,  and  piled  branches  of  trees  therein, 
so  that  he  effectually  barred  their  passage  out,  and  we 
have  no  evidence  of  their  ever  having  been  seen  since 
in  the  outer  air. 

After  this  labor  Astolpho  refreshed  himself  by  bathing 
in  a  fountain  whose  pure  waters  bubbled  from  a  cleft 
of  the  rock.  Having  rested  awhile,  an  earnest  desire 
seized  him  of  ascending  the  mountain  which  towered 
above  him.  The  Hippogriff  bore  him  swiftly  upwards, 
and  landed  him  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  which  he 
found  to  be  an  extensive  plain. 

A  splendid  palace  rose  in  the  middle  of  this  plain, 
whose  walls  shone  with  such  brilliancy  that  mortal  eyes 
could  hardly  bear  the  sight.  Astolpho  guided  the  winged 
horse  towards  this  edifice,  and  made  him  poise  himself 
in  the  air  while  he  took  a  leisurely  survey  of  this  fa- 
vored spot  and  its  environs.  It  seemed  as  if  nature  and 
art  had  striven  with  one  another  to  see  which  could  do 
the  most  for  its  embellishment. 

Astolpho,  on  approaching  the  edifice,  saw  a  venerable 
man  advance  to  meet  him.  This  personage  was  clothed 


772  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

in  a  long  vesture  as  white  as  snow,  while  a  mantle  of 
purple  covered  his  shoulders,  and  hung  down  to  the 
ground.  A  white  beard  descended  to  his  middle,  and 
his  hair,  of  the  same  color,  overshadowed  his  shoulders. 
His  eyes  were  so  brilliant  that  Astolpho  felt  persuaded 
that  he  was  a  blessed  inhabitant  of  the  heavenly  man- 
sions. 

The  sage,  smiling  benignantly  upon  the  paladin,  who 
from  respect  had  dismounted  from  his  horse,  said  to 
him :  "Noble  chevalier,  know  that  it  is  by  the  Divine  will 
you  have  been  brought  to  the  terrestrial  paradise.  Your 
mortal  nature  could  not  have  borne  to  scale  these  heights 
and  reach  these  seats  of  bliss  if  it  were  not  the  will 
of  Heaven  that  you  should  be  instructed  in  the  means  to 
succor  Charles,  and  to  sustain  the  glory  of  our  holy 
faith.  I  am  prepared  to  impart  the  needed  counsels; 
but  before  I  begin  let  me  welcome  you  to  our  sojourn. 
I  doubt  not  your  long  fast  and  distant  journey  have 
given  you  a  good  appetite." 

The  aspect  of  the  venerable  man  filled  the  prince  with 
admiration;  but  his  surprise  ceased  when  he  learned 
from  him  that  he  was  that  one  of  the  Apostles  of  our 
Lord  to  whom  he  said,  "I  will  that  thou  tarry  till  I 
come." 

St.  John,  conducting  Astolpho,  rejoined  his  compan- 
ions. These  were  the  patriarch  Enoch  and  the  prophet 
Elijah;  neither  of  whom  had  yet  seen  his  dying  day, 
but,  taken  from  our  lower  world,  were  dwelling  in  a 
region  of  peace  and  joy,  in  a  climate  of  eternal  spring, 
till  the  last  trumpet  shall  sound. 

The  three  holy  inhabitants  of  the  terrestrial  paradise 
received  Astolpho  with  the  greatest  kindness,  carried 
him  to  a  pleasant  apartment,  and  took  great  care  of 
the  Hippogriff,  to  whom  they  gave  such  food  as  suited 
him,  while  to  the  prince  they  presented  fruits  so  de- 
licious that  he  felt  inclined  to  excuse  our  first  parents 
for  their  sin  in  eating  them  without  permission. 

Astolpho,  having  recruited  his  strength,  not  only  by 
these  excellent  fruits,  but  also  by  sweet  sleep,  roused 
himself  at  the  first  blush  of  dawn,  and  as  soon  as  he 
left  his  chamber  met  the  beloved  Apostle  coming  tp 


ASTOLPHO  IN  ABYSSINIA  773 

seek  him.  St.  John  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  told  him 
many  things  relating  to  the  past  and  the  future.  Among 
others,  he  said,  "Son,  let  me  tell  you  what  is  now  going 
on  in  France.  Orlando,  the  illustrious  prince  who  re- 
ceived at  his  birth  the  endowment  of  strength  and  cour- 
age more  than  mortal,  raised  up  as  was  Samson  of  old 
to  be  the  champion  of  the  true  faith,  has  been  guilty 
of  the  basest  ingratitude  in  leaving  the  Christian  camp 
when  it  most  needed  the  support  of  his  arm,  to  run 
after  a  Saracen  princess,  whom  he  would  fain  marry, 
though  she  scorns  him.  To  punish  him  his  reason  has 
been  taken  away,  so  that  he  runs  naked  through  the  laridr 
over  mountains  and  through  valleys,  without  a  ray  of 
intelligence.  The  duration  of  his  punishment  has  been 
fixed  at  three  months,  and  that  time  having  nearly  ex- 
pired, you  have  been  brought  hither  to  learn  from  us  the 
means  by  which  the  reason  of  Orlando  may  be  restored. 
True,  you  will  be  obliged  to  make  a  journey  with  me,  and 
we  must  even  leave  the  earth,  and  ascend  to  the  moon, 
for  it  is  in  that  planet  we  are  to  seek  the  remedy  for 
the  madness  of  the  paladin.  I  propose  to  make  our 
journey  this  evening,  as  soon  as  the  moon  appears  over 
our  head." 

As  soon  as  the  sun  sunk  beneath  the  seas,  and  the 
moon  presented  its  luminous  disk,  the  holy  man  had 
the  chariot  brought  out  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
make  excursions  among  the  stars,  the  same  which  was 
employed  long  ago  to  convey  Elijah  up  from  earth. 
The  saint  made  Astolpho  seat  himself  beside  him,  took 
the  reins,  and  giving  the  word  to  the  coursers,  they 
bore  them  upward  with  astonishing  celerity. 

At  length  they  reached  the  great  continent  of  the 
Moon.  Its  surface  appeared  to  be  of  polished  steeU 
with  h^re  and  there  a  spot  which,  like  rust,  obscured 
its  brightness.  The  paladin  was  astonished  to  see  that 
the  earth,  with  all  its  seas  and  rivers,  seemed  but  an 
insignificant  spot  in  the  distance. 

The  prince  discovered  in  this  region  so  new  to  him, 
rivers,  lakes,  plains,  hills,  and  valleys.  Many  beauti- 
ful cities  and  castles  enriched  the  landscape.  He  saw 
also  vast  forests,  and  heard  in  them  the  sound  of  horns 


774  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

and  the  barking  of  dogs,  which  led  him  to  conclude  that 
the  nymphs  were  following  the  chase. 

The  knight,  filled  with  wonder  at  all  he  saw,  was 
conducted  by  the  saint  to  a  valley,  where  he  stood 
amazed  at  the  riches  strewed  all  around  him.  Well  he 
might  be  so,  for  that  valley  was  the  receptacle  of  things 
lost  on  earth,  either  by  men's  fault,  or  by  the  effect  of 
time  and  chance.  Let  no  one  suppose  we  speak  here 
of  kingdoms  or  of  treasures ;  they  are  the  toys  of  For- 
tune, which  she  dispenses  in  turning  her  wheel ;  we  speak 
of  things  which  she  can  neither  give  nor  take  away. 
Such  are  reputations,  which  appear  at  one  time  so  bril- 
liant, and  a  short  time  after  are  heard  of  no  more.  Here, 
also,  are  countless  vows  and  prayers  for  unattainable  ob- 
jects, lovers'  sighs  and  tears,  time  spent  in  gaming,  dress- 
ing, and  doing  nothing,  the  leisure  of  the  dull  and  the 
intentions  of  the  lazy,  baseless  projects,  intrigues,  and 
plots;  these  and  such  like  things  fill  all  the  valley. 

Astolpho  had  a  great  desire  to  understand  all  that  he 
saw,  and  which  appeared  to  him  so  extraordinary. 
Among  the  rest,  he  observed  a  great  mountain  of  blown 
bladders,  from  which  issued  indistinct  noises.  The  saint 
told  him  these  were  the  dynasties  of  Assyrian  and  Per- 
sian kings,  once  the  wonder  of  the  earth,  of  which  now 
scarce  the  name  remains. 

Astolpho  could  not  help  laughing  when  the  saint  said 
to  him,  "All  these  hooks  of  silver  and  gold  that  you  see 
are  the  gifts  of  courtiers  to  princes,  made  in  the  hope 
of  getting  something  better  in  return."  He  also  showed 
him  garlands  of  flowers  in  which  snares  were  concealed; 
these  were  flatteries  and  adulations,  meant  to  deceive. 
But  nothing  was  so  comical  as  the  sight  of  numerous 
grasshoppers  which  had  burst  their  lungs  with  chirp- 
ing. These,  he  told  him,  were  sonnets,  odes,  and  dedi- 
cations, addressed  by  venal  poets  to  great  people. 

The  paladin  beheld  with  wonder  what  seemed  a  lake 
of  spilled  milk.  "It  is,"  said  the  saint,  "the  charity  done 
by  frightened  misers  on  their  death-beds."  It  would 
take  too  long  to  tell  all  that  the  valley  contained :  mean- 
ness, affectations,  pretended  virtues,  and  concealed  vices 
were  there  in  abundance. 


ASTOLPHO  IN  ABYSSINIA  775 

Among  the  rest  Astolpho  perceived  many  days  of  his 
own  lost,  and  many  imprudent  sallies  which  he  had  made, 
and  would  have  been  glad  not  to  have  been  reminded  of. 
But  he  also  saw  among  so  many  lost  things  a  great 
abundance  of  one  thing  which  men  are  apt  to  think  they 
all  possess,  and  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  pray  for, — 
good  sense.  This  commodity  appeared  under  the  form 
of  a  liquor,  most  light  and  apt  to  evaporate.  It  was 
therefore  kept  in  vials,  firmly  sealed.  One  of  these  was 
labelled,  "The  sense  of  the  Paladin  Orlando." 

All  the  bottles  were  ticketed,  and  the  sage  placed  one 
in  Astolpho's  hand,  which  he  found  was  his  own.  It 
was  more  than  half  full.  He  was  surprised  to  find 
there  many  other  vials  which  contained  almost  the  whole 
of  the  wits  of  many  persons  who  passed  among  men 
for  wise.  Ah,  how  easy  it  is  to  lose  one's  reason !  Some 
lose  theirs  by  yielding  to  the  sway  of  the  passions ;  some 
in  braving  tempests  and  shoals  in  search  of  wealth ;  some 
by  trusting  too  much  to  the  promises  of  the  great;  some 
by  setting  their  hearts  on  trifles.  As  might  have  been 
expected,  the  bottles  which  held  the  wits  of  astrologers, 
inventors,  metaphysicians,  and  above  all,  of  poets,  were 
in  general  the  best  filled  of  all. 

Astolpho  took  his  bottle,  put  it  to  his  nose,  and  in- 
haled it  all ;  and  Turpin  assures  us  that  he  was  for  a 
long  time  afterwards  as  sage  as  one  could  wish;  but 
the  Archbishop  adds  that  there  was  reason  to  fear  that 
some  of  the  precious  fluid  afterwards  found  its  way 
back  into  the  bottle.  The  paladin  took  also  the  bottle 
which  belonged  to  Orlando.  It  was  a  large  one,  and 
quite  full. 

Before  quitting  the  planetary  region  Astolpho  was 
conducted  to  an  edifice  on  the  borders  of  a  river.  He 
was  shown  an  immense  hall  full  of  bundles  of  silk,  linen, 
cotton,  and  wool.  A  thousand  different  colors,  brilliant 
or  dull,  some  quite  black,  were  among  these  skeins.  In 
one  part  of  the  hall  an  old  woman  was  busy  winding  off 
yarns  from  all  these  different  bundles.  When  she  had 
finished  a  skein  another  ancient  dame  took  it  and  placed 
it  with  others;  a  third  selected  from  the  fleeces  spun, 
and  mingled  them  in  due  proportions.  The  paladin  in- 


776  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

quired  what  all  this  might  be.  "These  old  women," 
said  the  saint,  "are  the  Fates,  who  spin,  measure,  and 
terminate  the  lives  of  mortals.  As  long  as  the  thread 
stretches  in  one  of  those  skeins,  so  long  does  the  mortal 
enjoy  the  light  of  day;  but  nature  and  death  are  on  the 
alert  to  shut  the  eyes  of  those  whose  thread  is  spun." 

Each  one  of  the  skeins  had  a  label  of  gold,  silver,  or 
iron,  bearing  the  name  of  the  individual  to  whom  it 
belonged.  An  old  man,  who,  in  spite  of  the  burden  of 
years,  seemed  brisk  and  active,  ran  without  ceasing  to 
fill  his  apron  with  these  labels,  and  carried  them  away 
to  throw  them  into  the  river,  whose  name  was  Lethe. 
When  he  reached  the  shore  of  the  river  the  old  man 
shook  out  his  apron,  and  the  labels  sunk  to  the  bottom. 
A  small  number  only  floated  for  a  time,  hardly  one  in 
a  thousand.  Numberless  birds,  hawks,  crows,  and  vul- 
tures hovered  over  the  stream,  with  clamorous  cries, 
and  strove  to  snatch  from  the  water  some  of  these 
names;  but  they  were  too  heavy  for  them,  and  after  a 
while  the  birds  were  forced  to  let  them  drop  into  the 
river  of  oblivion.  But  two  beautiful  swans,  of  snowy 
whiteness,  gathered  some  few  of  the  names,  and  re- 
turned with  them  to  the  shore,  where  a  lovely  nymph 
received  them  from  their  beaks,  and  carried  them  to  a 
temple  placed  upon  a  hill,  and  suspended  them  for  all 
time  upon  a  sacred  column,  on  which  stood  the  statue  of 
Immortality. 

Astolpho  was  amazed  at  all  this,  and  asked  his  guide 
to  explain  it.  He  replied,  "The  old  man  is  Time.  All 
the  names  upon  the  tickets  would  be  immortal  if  the  old 
man  did  not  plunge  them  into  the  river  of  oblivion. 
Those  clamorous  birds  which  make  vain  efforts  to  save 
certain  of  the  names  are  flatterers,  pensioners,  venal 
rhymesters,  who  do  their  best  to  rescue  from  oblivion 
the  unworthy  names  of  their  patrons;  but  all  in  vain; 
they  may  keep  them  from  their  fate  a  little  while,  but 
ere  long  the  river  of  oblivion  must  swallow  them  all. 

"The  swans,  that  with  harmonious  strains  carry  cer- 
tain names  to  the  temple  of  Eternal  Memory,  are  the 
great  poets,  who  save  from  oblivion  worse  than  death 
the  names  of  those  they  judge  worthy  of  immortality. 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  777 

Swans  of  this  kind  are  rare.  Let  monarchs  know  the 
true  breed,  and  fail  not  to  nourish  with  care  such  as 
may  chance  to  appear  in  their  time." 


THE    WAR    IN    AFRICA 

WHEN  Astolpho  had  descended  to  the  earth  with  the 
precious  phial,  St.  John  showed  him  a  plant  of  mar- 
vellous virtues,  with  which  he  told  him  he  had  only  to 
touch  the  eyes  of  the  king  of  Abyssinia  to  restore  him 
to  sight.  "That  important  service,"  said  the  saint, 
"added  to  your  having  delivered  him  from  the  Harpies, 
will  induce  him  to  give  you  an  army  wherewith  to  attack 
the  Africans  in  their  rear,  and  force  them  to  return  from 
France  to  defend  their  own  country."  The  saint  also 
instructed  him  how  to  lead  his  troops  in  safety  across 
the  great  deserts,  where  caravans  are  often  overwhelmed 
with  moving  columns  of  sand.  Astolpho,  fortified  with 
ample  instructions,  remounted  the  Hippogriff,  thanked 
the  saint,  received  his  blessing,  and  took  his  flight  down 
to  the  level  country. 

Keeping  the  course  of  the  river  Nile,  he  soon  arrived 
at  the  capital  of  Abyssinia,  and  rejoined  Senapus.  The 
joy  of  the  king  was  great  when  he  heard  again  the 
voice  of  the  hero  who  had  delivered  him  from  the 
Harpies.  Astolpho  touched  his  eyes  with  the  plant 
which  he  had  brought  from  the  terrestrial  paradise,  and 
restored  their  sight.  The  king's  gratitude  was  un- 
bounded. He  begged  him  to  name  a  reward,  promising 
to  grant  it,  whatever  it  might  be.  Astolpho  asked  an 
army  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  Charlemagne,  and  the 
king  not  only  granted  him  a  hundred  thousand  men,  but 
offered  to  lead  them  himself. 

The  night  before  the  day  appointed  for  the  departure 
of  the  troops  Astolpho  mounted  his  winged  horse,  and 
directed  his  flight  towards  a  mountain,  whence  the  fierce 
South-wind  issues,  whose  blast  raises  the  sands  of  the 
Nubian  desert,  and  whirls  them  onward  in  overwhelm- 


778  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

ing  clouds.  The  paladin,  by  the  advice  of  St.  John, 
had  prepared  himself  with  a  leather  bag,  which  he  placed 
adroitly,  with  its  mouth  open,  over  the  vent  whence 
issues  this  terrible  wind.  At  the  first  dawn  of  morning 
the  wind  rushed  from  its  cavern  to  resume  its  daily 
course,  and  was  caught  in  the  bag,  and  securely  tied 
up,  Astolpho,  delighted  with  his  prize,  returned  to  his 
army,  placed  himself  at  their  head,  and  commenced  his 
march.  The  Abyssinians  traversed  without  danger  or 
difficulty  those  vast  fields  of  sand  which  separate  their 
country  from  the  kingdoms  of  Northern  Africa,  for  the 
terrible  South- wind,  taken  completely  captive,  had  not 
force  enough  left  to  blow  out  a  candle. 

Senapus  was  distressed  that  he  could  not  furnish  any 
cavalry,  for  his  country,  rich  in  camels  and  elephants, 
was  destitute  of  horses.  This  difficulty  the  saint  had 
foreseen,  and  had  taught  Astolpho  the  means  of  remedy- 
ing. He  now  put  those  means  in  operation.  Having 
reached  a  place  whence  he  beheld  a  vast  plain  and  the 
sea,  he  chose  from  his  troops  those  who  appeared  to  be 
the  best  made  and  the  most  intelligent.  These  he  caused 
to  be  arranged  in  squadrons  at  the  foot  of  a  lofty  moun- 
tain which  bordered  the  plain,  and  he  himself  mounted 
to  the  summit  to  carry  into  effect  his  great  design.  Here 
he  found  vast  quantities  of  fragments  of  rock  and  peb- 
bles. These  he  set  rolling  down  the  mountain's  side, 
and,  wonderful  to  relate,  as  they  rolled  they  grew  in 
size,  made  themselves  bodies,  legs,  necks,  and  long  faces. 
Next  they  began  to  neigh,  to  curvet,  to  scamper  on  all 
sides  over  the  plain.  Some  were  bay,  some  roan,  some 
dapple,  some  chestnut.  The  troops  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  exerted  themselves  to  catch  these  new-created 
horses,  which  they  easily  did,  for  the  miracle  had  been 
so  considerate  as  to  provide  all  the  horses  with  bridles 
and  saddles.  Astolpho  thus  suddenly  found  himself 
supplied  with  an  excellent  corps  of  cavalry,  not  fewer 
(as  Archbishop  Turpin  asserts)  than  eighty  thousand 
strong.  With  these  troops  Astolpho  reduced  all  the 
country  to  subjection,  and  at  last  arrived  before  the 
walls  of  Agramant's  capital  dty,  Biserta,  to  which  he 
laid  siege. 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  779 

We  must  now  return  to  the  camp  of  the  Christians, 
which  lay  before  Aries,  to  which  city  the  Saracens  had 
retired  after  being  defeated  in  a  night  attack  led  on  by 
Rinaldo.  Agramant  here  received  the  tidings  of  the  in- 
vasion of  his  country  by  a  fresh  enemy,  the  Abyssinians, 
and  learned  that  Biserta  was  in  danger  of  falling  into 
their  hands,  tie  took  counsel  of  his  officers,  and  de- 
cided to  send  an  embassy  to  Charles,  proposing  that  the 
whole  quarrel  should  be  submitted  to  the  combat  of  two 
warriors,  one  from  each  side,  according  to  the  issue  of 
which  it  should  be  decided  which  party  should  pay  trib- 
ute to  the  other,  and  the  war  should  cease.  Charle- 
magne, who  had  not  heard  of  the  favorable  turn  which 
affairs  had  taken  in  Africa,  readily  agreed  to  this  pro- 
posal, and  Rinaldo  was  selected  on  the  part  of  the 
Christians  to  sustain  the  combat. 

The  Saracens  selected  Rogero  for  their  champion. 
Rogero  was  still  in  the  Saracen  camp,  kept  there  by 
honor  alone,  for  his  mind  had  been  opened  to  the  truth 
of  the  Christian  faith  by  the  arguments  of  Bradamante, 
and  he  had  resolved  to  leave  the  party  of  the  infidels 
on  the  first  favorable  opportunity,  and  to  join  the  Chris- 
tian side.  But  his  honor  forbade  him  to  do  this  while 
his  former  friends  were  in  distress;  and  thus  he  waited 
for  what  time  might  bring  forth,  when  he  was  startled 
by  the  announcement  that  he  had  been  selected  to  uphold 
the  cause  of  the  Saracens  against  the  Christians,  and 
that  his  foe  was  to  be  Rinaldo,  the  brother  of  Brada- 
mante. 

While  Rogero  was  overwhelmed  with  this  intelligence 
Bradamante  on  her  side  felt  the  deepest  distress  at 
hearing  of  the  proposed  combat.  If  Rogero  should  fall 
she  felt  that  no  other  man  living  was  worthy  of  her 
love;  and  if,  on  the  other  hand,  Heaven  should  resolve 
to  punish  France  by  the  death  of  her  chosen  champion, 
Bradamante  would  have  to  deplore  her  brother,  so  dear 
to  her,  and  be  no  less  completely  severed  from  the  object 
of  her  affections. 

While  the  fair  lady  gave  herself  up  to  these  sad 
thoughts,  the  sage  enchantress,  Melissa,  suddenly  ap- 
peared before  her.  "Fear  not,  my  daughter/'  said  she, 


780  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"I  shall  find  a  way  to  interrupt  this  combat  which  so 
distresses  you." 

Meanwhile  Rinaldo  and  Rogero  prepared  their 
weapons  for  the  conflict.  Rinaldo  had  the  choice,  and 
decided  that  it  should  be  on  foot,  and  with  no  weapons 
but  the  battle-axe  and  poniard.  The  place  assigned  was 
a  plain  between  the  camp  of  Charlemagne  and  the  walls 
of  Aries. 

Hardly  had  the  dawn  announced  the  day  appointed 
for  this  memorable  combat,  when  heralds  proceeded 
from  both  sides  to  mark  the  lists.  Erelong  the  African 
troops  were  seen  to  advance  from  the  city,  Agramant 
at  their  head;  his  brilliant  arms  adorned  in  the  Moorish 
fashion,  his  horse  a  bay,  with  a  white  star  on  his  fore- 
head. Rogero  marched  at  his  side,  and  some  of  the 
greatest  warriors  of  the  Saracen  camp  attended  him, 
bearing  the  various  parts  of  his  armor  and  weapons. 
Charlemagne,  on  his  part,  proceeded  from  his  intrench- 
ments,  ranged  his  troops  in  semicircle,  and  stood  sur- 
rounded by  his  peers  and  paladins.  Some  of  them  bore 
portions  of  the  armor  of  Rinaldo,  the  celebrated  Ogier, 
the  Dane,  bearing  the  helmet  which  Rinaldo  took  from 
Mambrino.  Duke  Namo  of  Bavaria  and  Salomon  of 
Bretagne  bore  two  axes,  of  equal  weight,  prepared  for 
*,he  occasion. 

The  terms  of  the  combat  were  then  sworn  to  with 
the  utmost  solemnity  by  all  parties.  It  was  agreed  that 
if  from  either  part  any  attempt  was  made  to  interrupt 
the  battle  both  combatants  should  turn  their  arms  against 
the  party  which  should  be  guilty  of  the  interruption; 
and  both  monarchs  assented  to  the  condition  that  in 
such  case  the  champion  of  the  offending  party  should 
be  discharged  from  his  allegiance,  and  at  liberty  to 
transfer  his  arms  to  the  other  side. 

When  all  the  preparations  were  concluded  the  mon- 
archs and  their  attendants  retired  each  to  his  own  side, 
and  the  champions  were  left  alone.  The  two  warriors 
advanced  with  measured  steps  towards  each  other,  and 
met  in  the  middle  of  the  space.  They  attacked  one  an- 
other at  the  same  moment,  and  the  air  resounded  with 
the  blows  they  gave.  Sparks  flew  from  their  battle- 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  781 

axes,  while  the  velocity  with  which  they  managed  their 
weapons  astonished  the  beholders.  Rogero,  always  re- 
membering that  his  antagonist  was  the  brother  of  his 
betrothed,  could  not  aim  a  deadly  wound ;  he  strove  only 
to  ward  off  those  levelled  against  himself.  Rinaldo,  on  the 
other  hand,  much  as  he  esteemed  Rogero,  spared  not 
his  blows,  for  he  eagerly  desired  victory  for  his  own 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  country  and  his  faith. 

The  Saracens  soon  perceived  that  their  champion 
fought  feebly,  and  gave  not  to  Rinaldo  such  blows  as  he 
received  from  him.  His  disadvantage  was  so  marked 
that  anxiety  and  shame  were  manifest  on  the  counte- 
nance of  Agramant.  Melissa,  one  of  the  most  acute 
enchantresses  that  ever  lived,  seized  this  moment  to  dis- 
guise herself  under  the  form  of  Rodomont,  that  rude 
and  impetuous  warrior,  who  had  now  for  some  time  been 
absent  from  the  Saracen  camp.  Approaching  Agramant, 
she  said,  "How  could  you,  my  lord,  have  the  imprudence 
of  selecting  a  young  man  without  experience  to  oppose 
the  most  redoubtable  warrior  of  France?  Surely  you 
must  have  been  regardless  of  the  honor  of  your  arms, 
and  of  the  fate  of  your  empire !  But  it  is  not  too  late. 
Break  without  delay  the  agreement  which  is  sure  to  re- 
sult in  your  ruin.*'  So  saying,  she  addressed  the  troops 
who  stood  near,  "Friends,"  said  she,  "follow  me;  under 
my  guidance  every  one  of  you  will  be  a  match  for  a 
score  of  those  feeble  Christians."  Agramant,  delighted 
at  seeing  Rodomont  once  more  at  his  side,  gave  his 
consent,  and  the  Saracens,  at  the  instant,  couched  their 
lances,  set  spurs  to  their  steeds,  and  swept  down  upon 
the  French.  Melissa,  when  she  saw  her  work  successful, 
disappeared. 

Rinaldo  and  Rogero,  seeing  the  truce  broken,  and  the 
two  armies  engaged  in  general  conflict,  stopped  their 
battle;  their  martial  fury  ceased  at  once,  they  joined 
hands,  and  resolved  to  act  no  more  on  either  side  until 
it  should  be  clearly  ascertained  which  party  had  failed 
to  observe  its  oath.  Both  renewed  their  promise  to 
abandon  forever  the  party  which  had  been  thus  false 
and  perjured. 

Meanwhile,  the  Christians,  after  the  first  moment  of 


782  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

surprise,  met  the  Saracens  with  courage  redoubled  by 
rage  at  the  treachery  of  their  foes.  Guido  the  Wild, 
brother  and  rival  of  Rinaldo,  Griffon  and  Aquilant,  sons 
of  Oliver,  and  numerous  others  whose  names  have  al- 
ready been  celebrated  in  our  recitals,  beat  back  the  as- 
sailants, and  at  last,  after  prodigious  slaughter,  forced 
them  to  take  shelter  within  the  walls  of  Aries. 

We  will  now  return  to  Orlando,  whom  we  last  heard 
of  as  furiously  mad,  and  doing  a  thousand  acts  of  vio- 
lence in  his  senseless  rage.  One  day  he  came  to  the 
borders  of  a  stream  which  intercepted  his  course.  He 
swam  across  it,  for  he  could  swim  like  an  otter,  and 
on  the  other  side  saw  a  peasant  watering  his  horse.  He 
seized  the  animal,  in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  the  peas- 
ant, and  rode  it  with  furious  speed  till  he  arrived  at  the 
sea-coast,  where  Spain  is  divided  from  Africa  by  only 
a  narrow  strait.  At  the  moment  of  his  arrival  a 
vessel  had  just  put  off  to  cross  the  strait.  She  was  full 
of  people  who,  with  glass  in  hand,  seemed  to  be  tak- 
ing a  merry  farewell  of  the  land,  wafted  by  a  favorable 
breeze. 

The  frantic  Orlando  cried  out  to  them  to  stop  and  take 
him  in ;  but  they,  having  no  desire  to  admit  a  madman 
to  their  company,  paid  him  no  attention.  The  paladin 
thought  this  behavior  very  uncivil;  and  by  force  of 
blows  made  his  horse  carry  him  into  the  water  in  pursuit 
of  the  ship.  The  wretched  animal  soon  had  only  his 
head  above  water;  but  as  Orlando  urged  him  forward, 
nothing  was  left  for  the  poor  beast  but  either  to  die  or 
swim  over  to  Africa. 

Already  Orlando  had  lost  sight  of  the  bark;  distance 
and  the  swell  of  the  sea  completely  hid  it  from  his  sight. 
He  continued  to  press  his  horse  forward,  till  at  last  it 
could  struggle  no  more,  and  sunk  beneath  him.  Orlando, 
nowise  concerned,  stretched  out  his  nervous  arms,  puffing 
the  salt  water  from  before  his  mouth,  and  carried  his 
head  above  the  waves.  Fortunately  they  were  not  rough, 
scarce  a  breath  of  wind  agitated  the  surface;  otherwise, 
the  invincible  Orlando  would  then  have  met  his  death. 
But  fortune,  which  it  is  said  favors  fools,  delivered  him 
from  this  danger,  and  landed  him  safe  on  the  shore  of 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  783 

Ceuta.     Here  he  rambled  along  the  shore  till  he  came 
to  where  the  black  army  of  Astolpho  held  its  camp. 

Now  it  happened,  just  before  this  time,  that  a  vessel 
filled  with  prisoners  which  Rodomont  had  taken  at  the 
bridge  had  arrived,  and,  not  knowing  of  the  presence 
of  the  Abyssinian  army,  had  sailed  right  into  port, 
where  of  course  the  prisoners  and  their  captors  changed 
places,  the  former  being  set  at  liberty  and  received  with 
all  joy,  the  latter  sent  to  serve  in  the  galleys.  Astolpho 
thus  found  himself  surrounded  with  Christian  knights, 
and  he  and  his  friends  were  exchanging  greetings  and 
felicitations,  when  a  noise  was  heard  in  the  camp,  and 
seemed  to  increase  every  moment. 

Astolpho  and  his  friends  seized  their  weapons,  mounted 
their  horses,  and  rode  to  the  quarter  whence  the  noise 
proceeded.  Imagine  their  astonishment  when  they  saw 
that  the  tumult  was  caused  by  a  single  man,  perfectly 
naked,  and  browned  with  dirt  and  exposure,  but  of  a 
force  and  fury  so  terrible  that  he  overturned  all  thai- 
offered  to  lay  hands  on  him. 

Astolpho,  Dudon,  Oliver,  and  Florimart  gazed  at  him 
with  amazement.  It  was  with  difficulty  they  knew  him, 
Astolpho,  who  had  been  warned  of  his  condition  by  his 
holy  monitor,  was  the  first  to  recognize  him.  As  the 
paladins  closed  round  Orlando,  the  madman  dealt  one 
and  another  a  blow  of  his  fist,  which,  if  they  had  not  been 
in  armor,  or  he  had  had  any  weapon,  would  probably 
have  despatched  them;  as  it  was,  Dudon  and  Astolpho 
measured  their  length  on  the  sand.  But  Florimart  seized 
him  from  behind,  Sansonnet  and  another  grasped  his 
legs,  and  at  last  they  succeeded  in  securing  him  with 
ropes.  They  took  him  to  the  water-side  and  washed  him 
well,  and  then  Astolpho,  having  first  bandaged  his  mouth 
so  that  he  could  not  breathe  except  through  his  nose, 
brought  the  precious  phial,  uncorked  it,  and  placed  it 
adroitly  under  his  nostrils,  when  the  good  Orlando  took 
it  all  up  in  one  breath.  O  marvellous  prodigy!  The 
paladin  recovered  in  an  instant  all  his  intelligence.  He 
felt  like  one  who  had  awakened  from  a  painful  dream, 
in  which  he  had  believed  that  monsters  were  about  to 
tear  him  to  pieces.  He  seemed  prostrated,  silent,  and 


784  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

abashed.  Florismart,  Oliver,  and  Astolpho  stood  gaz- 
ing upon  him,  while  he  turned  his  eyes  around  and  on 
himself.  He  seemed  surprised  to  find  himself  naked, 
bound,  and  stretched  on  the  sea-shore.  After  a  few 
moments  he  recognized  his  friends,  and  spoke  to  them  in 
a  tone  so  tender  that  they  hastened  to  unbind  him,  and 
to  supply  him  with  garments.  Then  they  exerted 
themselves  to  console  him,  to  diminish  the  weight 
with  which  his  spirits  were  oppressed,  and  to  make  him 
forget  the  wretched  condition  into  which  he  had  been 
sunk. 

Orlando,  in  recovering  his  reason,  found  himself  also 
delivered  from  his  insane  attachment  to  the  queen  of 
Cathay.  His  heart  felt  now  no  further  influenced  by 
the  recollection  of  her  than  to  be  moved  with  an  ardent 
desire  to  retrieve  his  fame  by  some  distinguished  exploit. 
Astolpho  would  gladly  have  yielded  to  him  the  chief 
command  of  the  army,  but  Orlando  would  not  take  from 
the  friend  to  whom  he  owed  so  much  the  glory  of  the 
campaign;  but  in  everything  the  two  paladins  acted  in 
concert,  and  united  their  counsels.  They  proposed  to 
make  a  general  assault  on  the  city  of  Biserta,  and  were 
only  waiting  a  favorable  moment,  when  their  plan  was 
interrupted  by  new  events. 

Agramant,  after  the  bloody  battle  which  followed  the 
infraction  of  the  truce,  found  himself  so  weak  that  he 
saw  it  was  in  vain  to  attempt  to  remain  in  France.  So, 
in  concert  with  Sobrino,  the  bravest  and  most  trusted  of 
his  chiefs,  he  embarked  to  return  to  his  own  country, 
having  previously  sent  off  his  few  remaining  troops  in 
the  same  direction.  The  vessel  which  carried  Agra- 
mant and  Sobrino  approached  the  shore  where  the  army 
of  Astolpho  lay  encamped  before  Biserta,  and  having  dis-» 
covered  this  fact  before  it  was  too  late,  the  king  com- 
manded the  pilot  to  steer  eastward,  with  a  view  to  seek 
protection  of  the  King  of  Egypt.  But  the  weather  be- 
coming rough,  he  consented  to  the  advice  of  his  com- 
panions, and  sought  harbor  in  an  island  which  lies  be- 
tween Sicily  and  Africa.  There  he  found  Gradasso, 
the  warlike  king  of  Sericane,  who  had  come  to  France 
$o  possess  himself  of  the  horse  Bayard  and  the  sword 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  785 

Durindana;  and  having  procured  both  these  prizes  was 
returning  to  his  own  country. 

The  two  kings,  who  had  been  companions  in  arms 
under  the  walls  of  Paris,  embraced  one  another  affec- 
tionately. Gradasso  learned  with  regret  the  reverses  of 
Agramant,  and  offered  him  his  troops  and  his  person. 
He  strongly  deprecated  resorting  to  Egypt  for  aid. 
"Remember  the  great  Pompey,"  said  he,  "and  shun  that 
fatal  shore.  My  plan,"  he  continued,  "is  this:  I  mean 
to  challenge  Orlando  to  single  combat.  Possessed  of 
such  a  sword  and  steed  as  mine,  if  he  were  made  of  steel 
or  bronze,  he  could  not  escape  me.  He  being  removed, 
there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  driving  back  the  Abyssinians. 
We  will  rouse  against  them  the  Moslem  nations  from  the 
other  side  of  the  Nile,  the  Arabians,  Persians,  and  Chal- 
deans, who  will  soon  make  Senapus  recall  his  army  to 
defend  his  own  territories." 

Agramant  approved  this  advice  except  in  one  particu- 
lar. "It  is  for  me,"  said  he,  "to  combat  Orlando;  I 
cannot  with  honor  devolve  that  duty  on  another." 

"Let  us  adopt  a  third  course,"  said  the  aged  warrior 
Sobrino.  "I  would  not  willingly  remain  a  simple  spec- 
tator of  such  a  contest.  Let  us  send  three  squires  to 
the  shore  of  Africa  to  challenge  Orlando  and  any  two 
of  his  companions  in  arms  to  meet  us  three  in  this 
island  of  Lampedusa.'' 

This  counsel  was  adopted;  the  three  squires  sped  on 
their  way;  and  now  presented  themselves,  and  rehearsed 
their  message  to  the  Christian  knights. 

Orlando  was  delighted,  and  rewarded  the  squires  with 
rich  gifts.  He  had  already  resolved  to  seek  Gradasso 
and  compel  him  to  restore  Durindana,  which  he  had 
learned  was  in  his  possession.  For  his  two  companions 
the  Count  chose  his  faithful  friend  Florismart  and  his 
cousin  Oliver. 

The  three  warriors  embarked,  and  sailing  with  a  favor- 
able wind,  the  second  morning  showed  them,  on  their 
right,  the  island  where  this  important  battle  was  to  be 
fought.  Orlando  and  his  two  companions,  having 
landed,  pitched  their  tent.  Agramant  had  olaced  his 
opposite. 


786  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Next  morning,  as  soon  as  Aurora  brightened  the  edges 
of  the  horizon,  the  warriors  of  both  parties  armed  them- 
selves and  mounted  their  horses.  They  took  their  posi- 
tions, face  to  face,  lowered  their  lances,  placed  them  in 
rest,  clapped  spurs  to  their  horses,  and  flew  to  the  charge. 
Orlando  met  the  charge  of  Gradasso.  The  paladin  was 
unmoved,  but  his  horse  could  not  sustain  the  terrible 
shock  of  Bayard.  He  recoiled,  staggered,  and  fell  some 
paces  behind.  Orlando  tried  to  raise  him,  but,  finding 
his  efforts  unavailing,  seized  his  shield,  and  drew  his 
famous  Balisardo.  Meanwhile  Agramant  and  the  brave 
Oliver  gained  no  advantage,  one  or  the  other ;  but  Floris- 
mart  unhorsed  the  King  Sobrino.  Having  brought  his 
foe  to  the  ground,  he  would  not  pursue  his  victory,  but 
hastened  to  attack  Gradasso,  who  had  overthrown  Or- 
lando. Seeing  him  thus  engaged,  Orlando  would  not 
interfere,  but  ran  with  sword  upraised  upon  Sobrino, 
and  with  one  blow  deprived  him  of  sense  and  motion. 
Believing  him  dead,  he  next  turned  to  aid  his  beloved 
Florismart.  That  brave  paladin,  neither  in  horse  nor 
arms  equal  to  his  antagonist,  could  but  parry  and  evade 
the  blows  of  the  terrible  Durindana.  Orlando,  eager  to 
succor  him,  was  delayed  for  a  moment  in  securing  and 
mounting  the  horse  of  the  King  Sobrino.  It  was  but  an 
instant,  and  with  sword  upraised,  he  rushed  upon  Gra- 
dasso •  who,  noways  disconcerted  at  the  onset  of  this 
second  foe,  shouted  his  defiance,  and  thrust  at  him  with 
his  sword,  but,  having  miscalculated  the  distance,  scarcely 
reached  him,  and  failed  to  pierce  his  mail.  Orlando,  in 
return,  dealt  him  a  blow  with  Balisardo,  which  wounded 
as  it  fell  face,  breast,  and  thigh,  and,  if  he  had  been  a 
little  nearer,  would  have  cleft  him  in  twain.  Sobrino, 
by  this  time  recovered  from  his  swoon,  though  severely 
wounded,  raised  himself  on  his  legs,  and  looked  to  see 
how  he  might  aid  his  friends.  Observing  Agramant 
hard  pressed  by  Oliver,  he  thrust  his  sword  into  the 
bowels  of  the  latter's  horse,  which  fell,  and  bore  dawn 
his  master,  entangling  his  leg  as  he  fell,  so  that  Oliver 
could  not  extricate  himself.  Florismart  saw  the  danger 
of  his  friend,  and  ran  upon  Sobrino  with  his  horse, 
overthrew  him,  and  then  turned  to  defend  himself  from 


THE  WAR  IN  AFRICA  787 

Agramant.  They  were  not  unequally  matched,  for 
though  Agramant,  mounted  on  Brigliadoro,  had  an  ad- 
vantage over  Florismart,  whose  horse  was  but  indiffer- 
ent, yet  Agramant  had  received  a  serious  wound  in  his 
encounter  with  Oliver. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  fury  of  the  encounter  be- 
tween Orlando  and  Gradasso.  Durindana,  in  the  hands 
of  Gradasso,  clove  asunder  whatever  it  struck;  but  such 
was  the  skill  of  Orlando,  who  perfectly  knew  the  danger 
to  which  he  was  exposed  from  a  stroke  of  that  weapon, 
it  had  not  yet  struck  him  in  such  a  way  as  to  inflict  a 
wound.  Meanwhile,  Gradasso  was  bleeding  from  many 
wounds,  and  his  rage  and  incaution  increased  every  mo- 
ment. In  his  desperation  he  lifted  Durindana  with  both 
hands,  and  struck  so  terrible  a  blow  full  on  the  helmet 
of  Orlando,  that  for  a  moment  it  stunned  the  paladin. 
He  dropped  the  reins,  and  his  frightened  horse  scoured 
with  him  over  the  plain.  Gradasso  turned  to  pursue 
him,  but  at  that  moment  saw  Florismart  in  the  very  act 
of  striking  a  fatal  blow  at  Agramant,  whom  he  had  un- 
horsed. While  Florismart  was  wholly  intent  upon  com- 
pleting his  victory,  Gradasso  plunged  his  sword  into  his 
side.  Florismart  fell  from  his  horse,  and  bathed  the 
plain  with  his  blood. 

Orlando  recovered  himself  just  in  time  to  see  the 
deed.  Whether  rage  or  grief  predominated  in  his  breast, 
I  cannot  tell ;  but,  seizing  Balisardo  with  fury,  his  first 
blow  fell  upon  Agramant,  who  was  nearest  to  him,  and 
smote  his  head  from  his  shoulders.  At  this  sight  Gra- 
dasso for  the  first  time  felt  his  courage  sink,  and  a  dark 
presentiment  of  death  came  over  him.  He  hardly  stood 
on  his  defence  when  Orlando  cast  himself  upon  him,  and 
gave  him  a  fatal  thrust.  The  sword  penetrated  his  ribs, 
and  came  out  a  palm's  breadth  on  the  other  side  of  his 
body. 

Thus  fell  beneath  the  sword  of  the  most  illustrious 
paladin  of  France  the  bravest  warrior  of  the  Saracen 
host.  Orlando  then,  as  if  despising  his  victory,  leaped 
lightly  to  the  ground,  and  ran  to  his  dear  friend  Floris- 
mart, embraced  him,  and  bathed  him  with  his  tears. 
Florismart  still  breathed.  He  could  even  command  his 


788  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

voice  to  utter  a  few  parting  words:  "Dear  friend,  do 
not  forget  me, — give  me  your  prayers, — and  oh!  be  a 
brother  to  Flordelis/'  He  died  in  uttering  her  name. 

After  a  few  moments  given  to  grief  Orlando  turned 
to  look  for  his  other  companion  and  his  late  foes. 
Oliver  lay  oppressed  with  the  weight  of  his  horse,  from 
which  he  had  in  vain  struggled  to  liberate  himself.  Or- 
lando extricated  him  with  difficulty;  he  then  raised 
Sobrino  from  the  earth,  and  committed  him  to  his  squire, 
treating  him  as  gently  as  if  he  had  been  his  own  brother. 
For  this  terrible  warrior  was  the  most  generous  of  men 
to  a  fallen  foe.  He  took  Bayard  and  Brigliadoro,  with 
the  arms  of  the  conquered  knights ;  their  bodies  and  their 
other  spoils  he  remitted  to  their  attendants. 

But  who  can  tell  the  grief  of  Flordelis  when  she  saw 
the  warriors  return,  and  found  not  Florismart  as  usual 
after  absence  hasten  to  her  side.  She  knew  by  the 
aspect  of  the  others  that  her  lord  was  slain.  At  the 
thought,  and  before  the  question  could  pass  her  lips, 
she  fell  senseless  upon  the  ground.  When  life  returned, 
and  she  learned  the  truth  of  her  worst  fears,  she  bitterly 
upbraided  herself  that  she  had  let  him  depart  without 
her.  "I  might  have  saved  him  by  a  single  cry  when  his 
enemy  dealt  him  that  treacherous  blow,  or  I  might  have 
thrown  myself  between  and  given  my  worthless  life  for 
his.  Or  if  no  more,  I  might  have  heard  his  last  words, 
I  might  have  given  him  a  last  kiss."  So  she  lamented, 
and  could  not  be  comforted. 


ROGERO   AND    BRADAMANTE 

AFTER  the  interruption  of  the  combat  with  Rinaldo, 
as  we  have  related,  Rogero  was  perplexed  with  doubts 
what  course  to  take.  The  terms  of  the  treaty  required 
him  to  abandon  Agramant,  who  had  broken  it,  and  to 
transfer  his  allegiance  to  Charlemagne ;  and  his  love  for 
Bradamante  called  him  in  the  same  direction;  but  un- 
willingness to  desert  his  prince  and  leader  in  the  hour 
of  distress  forbade  this  course.  Embarking,  therefore, 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  789 

for  Africa,  he  took  his  way  to  rejoin  the  Saracen  army; 
but  was  arrested  midway  by  a  storm  which  drove  the 
vessel  on  a  rock.  The  crew  took  to  their  boat,  but  that 
was  quickly  swamped  in  the  waves,  and  Rogero  with 
the  rest  were  compelled  to  swim  for  their  lives.  Then 
while  buffeting  the  waves  Rogero  bethought  him  of  his 
sin  in  so  long  delaying  his  Christian  profession,  and 
vowed  in  his  heart  that,  if  he  should  live  to  reach  the 
land,  he  would  no  longer  delay  to  be  baptized.  His 
vows  were  heard  and  answered;  he  succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  shore,  and  was  aided  and  relieved  on  landing  by 
a  pious  hermit,  whose  cell  overlooked  the  sea.  From 
him  he  received  baptism,  having  first  passed  some  days 
with  him,  partaking  his  humble  fare,  and  receiving  in- 
struction in  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian  faith. 

While  these  things  were  going  on,  Rinaldo,  who  had 
set  out  on  his  way  to  seek  Gradasso  and  recover  Bayard 
from  him,  hearing  on  his  way  of  the  great  things  which 
were  doing  in  Africa,  repaired  thither  to  bear  his  part 
in  them.  He  arrived  too  late  to  do  more  than  join  his 
friends  in  lamenting  the  loss  of  Florismart,  and  to  re- 
joice with  them  in  their  victory  over  the  Pagan  knights. 
On  the  death  of  their  king  the  Africans  gave  up  the 
contest,  Biserta  submitted,  and  the  Christian  knights  had 
only  to  dismiss  their  forces,  and  return  home.  Astolpho 
took  leave  of  his  Abyssinian  army,  and  sent  them  back 
laden  with  spoil  to  their  own  country,  not  forgetting  to 
intrust  to  them  the  bag  which  held  the  winds,  by  means 
of  which  they  were  enabled  to  cross  the  sandy  desert 
again  without  danger,  and  did  not  untie  it  till  they 
reached  their  own  country. 

Orlando  now,  with  Oliver,  who  much  needed  the  sur- 
geon's care,  and  Sobrino,  to  whom  equal  attention  was 
shown,  sailed  in  a  swift  vessel  to  Sicily,  bearing  with 
him  the  body  of  Florismart,  to  be  laid  in  Christian 
earth.  Rinaldo  accompanied  them,  as  did  Sansonnet 
and  the  other  Christian  leaders.  Arrived  at  Sicily,  the 
funeral  was  solemnized  with  all  the  rites  of  religion, 
and  with  the  profound  grief  of  those  who  had  known 
Florismart,  or  had  heard  of  his  fame.  Then  they  re- 
sumed their  course,  steering  for  Marseilles.  But  Oliver's 


790  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

wound  grew  worse  instead  of  better,  and  his  sufferings 
so  distressed  his  friends  that  they  conferred  together, 
not  knowing  what  to  do.  Then  said  the  pilot,  "We  are 
not  far  from  an  isle  where  a  holy  hermit  dwells  alone 
in  the  midst  of  the  sea.  It  is  said  none  seek  his  counsel 
or  his  aid  in  vain.  He  hath  wrought  marvellous  cures, 
and  if  you  resort  to  that  holy  man  without  doubt  he 
can  heal  the  knight."  Orlando  bade  him  steer  thither, 
and  soon  the  bark  was  laid  safely  beside  the  lonely 
rock;  the  wounded  man  was  lowered  into  their  boat, 
and  carried  by  the  crew  to  the  hermit's  cell.  It  was 
the  same  hermit  with  whom  Rogero  had  taken  refuge 
after  his  shipwreck,  by  whom  he  had  been  baptized,  and 
with  whom  he  was  now  staying,  absorbed  in  sacred 
studies  and  meditations. 

The  holy  man  received  Orlando  and  the  rest  with 
kindness,  and  inquired  their  errand ;  and  being  told  that 
they  had  come  for  help  for  one  who,  warring  for  the 
Christian  faith,  was  brought  to  perilous  pass  by  a  sad 
wound,  he  straightway  undertook  the  cure.  His  appli- 
cations were  simple,  but  they  were  seconded  by  his 
prayers.  The  paladin  was  soon  relieved  from  pain,  and 
in  a  few  days  his  foot  was  perfectly  restored  to  sound- 
ness. Sobrino,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  the  holy  monk 
perform  that  wonder,  cast  aside  his  false  prophet,  and 
with  contrite  heart  owned  the  true  God,  and  demanded 
baptism  at  his  hands.  The  hermit  granted  his  request, 
and  also  by  his  prayers  restored  him  to  health,  while 
all  the  Christian  knights  rejoiced  in  his  conversion  almost 
as  much  as  at  the  restoration  of  Oliver.  More  than  all 
Rogero  felt  joy  and  gratitude,  and  daily  grew  in  grace 
and  faith. 

Rogero  was  known  by  fame  to  all  the  Christian 
knights,  but  not  even  Rinaldo  knew  him  by  sight,  though 
he  had  proved  his  prowess  in  combat.  Sobrino  made 
him  known  to  them,  and  great  was  the  joy  of  all  when 
they  found  one  whose  valor  and  courtesy  were  renowned 
through  the  world  no  longer  an  enemy  and  unbeliever, 
but  a  convert  and  champion  of  the  true  faith.  All  press 
about  the  knight ;  one  grasps  his  hand,  another  locks  him 
fast  in  his  embrace;  but  more  than  all  the  rest,  Rinaldo 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  791 

cherished  him,  for  he  more  than  any  knew  his  worth. 

It  was  not  long  before  Rogero  confided  to  his  friend 
the  hopes  he  entertained  of  a  union  with  his  sister,  and 
Rinaldo  frankly  gave  his  sanction  to  the  proposal.  But 
causes  unknown  to  the  paladin  were  at  that  very  time 
interposing  obstacles  to  its  success. 

The  fame  of  the  beauty  and  worth  of  Bradamante 
had  reached  the  ears  of  the  Grecian  Emperor,  Constan- 
tine,  and  he  had  sent  to  Charlemagne  to  demand  the 
hand  of  his  niece  for  Leo,  his  son,  and  the  heir  to  his 
dominions.  Duke  Aymon,  her  father,  had  only  reserved 
his  consent  until  he  should  first  have  spoken  with  his 
son  Rinaldo,  now  absent. 

The  warriors  now  prepared  to  resume  their  voyage. 
Rogero  took  a  tender  farewell  of  the  good  hermit  who 
had  taught  him  the  true  faith.  Orlando  restored  to 
him  the  horse  and  arms  which  were  rightly  his,  not  even 
asserting  his  claim  to  Balisarda,  that  sword  which  he 
himself  had  won  from  the  enchantress. 

The  hermit  gave  his  blessing  to  the  band,  and  they  re- 
embarked.  The  passage  was  speedy,  and  very  soon  they 
arrived  in  the  harbor  of  Marseilles. 

Astolpho,  when  he  had  dismissed  his  troops,  mounted 
the  Hippogriff,  and  at  one  flight  shot  over  to  Sardinia, 
thence  to  Corsica,  thence,  turning  slightly  to  the  left, 
hovered  over  Provence,  and  alighted  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Marseilles.  There  he  did  what  he  had  been  com- 
manded to  do  by  the  holy  saint ;  he  unbridled  the  Hippo- 
griff,  and  turned  him  loose  to  seek  his  own  retreats, 
never  more  to  be  galled  with  saddle  or  bit.  The  horn 
had  lost  its  marvellous  power  ever  since  the  visit  to  the 
moon. 

Astolpho  reached  Marseilles  the  very  day  when  Or- 
lando, Rinaldo,  Oliver,  Sobrino,  and  Rogero  arrived 
there.  Charles  had  already  heard  the  news  of  the  defeat 
of  the  Saracen  kings,  and  all  the  accompanying  events. 
On  learning  the  approach  of  the  gallant  knights,  he  sent 
forward  some  of  his  most  illustrious  nobles  to  receive 
them,  and  himself,  with  the  rest  of  his  court,  kings, 
dukes,  and  peers,  the  queen,  and  a  fair  and  gorgeous 
band  of  ladies,  set  forward  from  Aries  to  meet  them. 


792  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

No  sooner  were  the  mutual  greetings  interchanged,  than 
Orlando  and  his  friends  led  forward  Rogero,  and  pre- 
sented him  to  the  Emperor.  They  vouch  him  son  of 
Rogero,  Duke  of  Risa,  one  of  the  most  renowned  of 
Christian  warriors,  by  adverse  fortune  stolen  in  his  in- 
fancy, and  brought  up  by  Saracens  in  the  false  faith,  now 
by  a  kind  Providence  converted,  and  restored  to  fill  the 
place  his  father  once  held  among  the  foremost  cham- 
pions of  the  throne  and  Church. 

Rogero  had  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  stood  respect- 
fully before  the  Emperor.  Charlemagne  bade  him  re- 
mount and  ride  beside  him;  and  omitted  nothing  which 
might  do  him  honor  in  sight  of  his  martial  train.  With 
pomp  triumphal  and  with  festive  cheer  the  troop  returned 
to  the  city;  the  streets  were  decorated  with  garlands, 
the  houses  hung  with  rich  tapestry,  and  flowers  fell  like 
rain  upon  the  conquering  host  from  the  hands  of  fair 
dames  and  damsels,  from  every  balcony  and  window. 
So  welcomed,  the  mighty  Emperor  passed  on  till  he 
reached  the  royal  palace,  where  many  days  he  feasted, 
high  in  hall,  with  his  lords,  amid  tourney,  revel,  dance, 
and  song. 

When  Rinaldo  told  his  father,  Duke  Aymon,  how  he 
had  promised  his  sister  to  Rogero,  his  father  heard  him 
with  indignation,  having  set  his  heart  on  seeing  her 
united  to  the  Grecian  Emperor's  son.  The  Lady  Bea- 
trice, her  mother,  also  appealed  to  Bradamante  herself 
to  reject  a  knight  who  had  neither  title  nor  lands,  and 
give  the  preference  to  one  who  would  make  her  Empress 
of  the  wide  Levant.  But  Bradamante,  though  respect 
forbade  her  to  refuse  her  mother's  entreaty,  would  not 
promise  to  do  what  her  heart  repelled,  and  answered  only 
with  a  sigh,  until  she  was  alone,  and  then  gave  a  loose 
to  tears. 

Meanwhile  Rogero,  indignant  that  a  stranger  should 
presume  to  rob  him  of  his  bride,  determined  to  seek  the 
Prince  of  Greece,  and  defy  him  to  mortal  combat.  With 
this  design  he  donned  his  armor,  but  exchanged  his 
crest  and  emblazonment,  and  bore  instead  a  white  uni- 
corn upon  a  crimson  field.  He  chose  a  trusty  squire, 
and.  commanding  him  not  to  address  him  as  Rogero, 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  793 

rode  on  his  quest.  Having  crossed  the  Rhine  and  the 
Austrian  countries  into  Hungary,  he  followed  the  course 
of  the  Danube  till  he  reached  Belgrade.  There  he  saw 
the  imperial  ensigns  spread,  and  white  pavilions,  thronged 
with  troops,  before  the  town.  For  the  Emperor  Con- 
stantine  was  laying  siege  to  the  city  to  recover  it  from 
the  Bulgarians,  who  had  taken  it  from  him  not  long 
before. 

A  river  flowed  between  the  camp  of  the  Emperor  and 
the  Bulgarians,  and  at  the  moment  when  Rogero  ap- 
proached, a  skirmish  had  begun  between  the  parties  from 
either  camp,  who  had  approached  the  stream  for  the  pur- 
pose of  watering.  The  Greeks  in  that  affray  were  four 
to  one,  and  drove  back  the  Bulgarians  in  precipitate  rout. 
Rogero,  seeing  this,  and  animated  only  by  his  hatred 
of  the  Grecian  prince,  dashed  into  the  middle  of  the 
flying  mass,  calling  aloud  on  the  fugitives  to  turn.  He 
encountered  first  a  leader  of  the  Grecian  host  in  splen- 
did armor,  a  nephew  of  the  Emperor,  as  dear  to  him  as 
a  son.  Rogero's  lance  pierced  shield  and  armor,  and 
stretched  the  warrior  breathless  on  the  plain.  Another 
and  another  fell  before  him,  and  astonishment  and  ter- 
ror arrested  the  advance  of  the  Greeks,  while  the  Bul- 
garians, catching  courage  from  the  cavalier,  rally,  change 
front,  and  chase  the  Grecian  troops,  who  fly  in  their 
turn.  Leo,  the  prince,  was  at  a  distance  when  this  sud- 
den skirmish  rose,  but  not  so  far  but  that  he  could  see 
distinctly,  from  an  elevated  position  which  he  held,  how 
the  changed  battle  was  all  the  work  of  one  man,  and 
could  not  choose  but  admire  the  bravery  and  prowess 
with  which  it  was  done.  He  knew  by  the  blazonry  dis- 
played that  the  champion  was  not  of  the  Bulgarian  army, 
though  he  furnished  aid  to  them.  Although  he  suffered 
by  his  valor,  the  prince  could  not  wish  him  ill,  for  his 
admiration  surpassed  his  resentment.  By  this  time  the 
Greeks  had  regained  the  river,  and  crossing  it  by  fording 
or  swimming,  some  made  their  escape,  leaving  many 
more  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  Bulgarians.  Rogero, 
learning  from  some  of  the  captives  that  Leo  was  at  a 
point  some  distance  down  the  river,  rode  thither  with  a 
view  to  meet  him,  but  arrived  not  before  the  Greek 


794  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

prince  had  retired  beyond  the  stream,  and  broken  up 
the  bridge.  Day  was  spent,  and  Rogero,  wearied,  looked 
round  for  a  shelter  for  the  night.  He  found  it  in  a 
cottage,  where  he  soon  yielded  himself  to  repose.  It 
so  happened,  a  knight  who  had  narrowly  escaped 
Rogero's  sword  in  the  late  battle  also  found  shelter  in 
the  same  cottage,  and,  recognizing  the  armor  of  the 
unknown  knight,  easily  found  means  of  securing  him  as 
he  slept,  and  next  morning  carried  him  in  chains  and 
delivered  him  to  the  Emperor.  By  him  he  was  in  turn 
delivered  to  his  sister  Theodora,  mother  of  the  young 
knight,  the  first  victim  of  Rogero's  spear.  By  her  he 
was  cast  into  a  dungeon,  till  her  ingenuity  could  devise 
a  death  sufficiently  painful  to  satiate  her  revenge. 

Bradamante,  meanwhile,  to  escape  her  father's  and 
mother's  importunity,  had  begged  a  boon  of  Charle- 
magne, which  the  monarch  pledged  his  royal  word  to 
grant;  it  was  that  she  should  not  be  compelled  to  marry 
any  one  unless  he  should  first  vanquish  her  in  single 
combat.  The  Emperor  therefore  proclaimed  a  tourna- 
ment in  these  words :  "He  that  would  wed  Duke  Aymon's 
daughter  must  contend  with  the  sword  against  that  dame, 
from  the  sun's  rise  to  his  setting;  and  if,  in  that  time, 
he  is  not  overcome  the  lady  shall  be  his." 

Duke  Aymon  and  the  Lady  Beatrice,  though  much 
incensed  at  the  course  things  had  taken,  brought  their 
daughter  to  court,  to  await  the  day  appointed  for  the 
tournament.  Bradamante,  not  finding  there  him  whom 
her  heart  required,  distressed  herself  with  doubts  what 
could  be  the  cause  of  his  absence.  Of  all  fancies,  the 
most  painful  one  was  that  he  had  gone  away  to  learn 
to  forget  her,  knowing  her  father's  and  her  mother's 
opposition  to  their  union,  and  despairing  to  contend 
against  them.  But  oh,  how  much  worse  would  be  the 
maiden's  woe,  if  it  were  known  to  her  what  her  be- 
trothed was  then  enduring ! 

He  was  plunged  in  a  dungeon  where  no  ray  of  day- 
light ever  penetrated,  loaded  with  chains,  and  scantily 
supplied  with  the  coarsest  food.  No  wonder  despair 
took  possession  of  his  heart,  and  he  longed  for  death  as 
a  relief,  when  one  night  (or  one  day,  for  both  were 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  795 

equally  dark  to  him)  he  was  roused  with  the  glare  of 
a  torch  and  saw  two  men  enter  his  cell.  It  was  the 
Prince  Leo,  with  an  attendant,  who  had  come  as  soon 
as  he  had  learned  the  wretched  fate  of  the  brave  knight 
whose  valor  he  had  seen  and  admired  on  the  field  of 
battle.  "Cavalier/'  said  he,  "I  am  one  whom  thy  valor 
hath  so  bound  to  thee,  that  I  willingly  peril  my  own 
safety  to  lend  thee  aid."  "Infinite  thanks  I  owe  you," 
replied  Rogero,  "and  the  life  you  give  me  I  promise 
faithfully  to  render  back  upon  your  call,  and  promptly 
to  stake  it  at  all  times  for  your  service."  The  prince 
then  told  Rogero  his  name  and  rank,  at  hearing  which 
a  tide  of  contending  emotions  almost  overwhelmed 
Rogero.  He  was  set  at  liberty,  and  had  his  horse  and 
arms  restored  to  him. 

Meanwhile,  tidings  arrived  of  King  Charles'  decree 
that  whoever  aspired  to  the  hand  of  Bradamante  must 
first  encounter  her  with  sword  and  lance.  This  news 
made  the  Grecian  prince  turn  pale,  for  he  knew  he  was 
no  match  for  her  in  fight.  Communing  with  himself, 
he  sees  how  he  may  make  his  wit  supply  the  place  of 
valor,  and  employ  the  French  knight,  whose  name  was 
still  unknown  to  him,  to  fight  the  battle  for  him. 
Rogero  heard  the  proposal  with  extreme  distress;  yet  it 
seemed  worse  than  death  to  deny  the  first  request  of 
one  to  whom  he  owed  his  life.  Hastily  he  gave  his 
assent  "to  do  in  all  things  that  which  Leo  should  com- 
mand." Afterward,  bitter  repentance  came  over  him; 
yet,  rather  than  confess  his  change  of  mind,  death  itself 
would  be  welcome.  Death  seems  his  only  remedy;  but 
how  to  die?  Sometimes  he  thinks  to  make  none  but  a 
feigned  resistance,  and  allow  her  sword  a  ready  access, 
for  never  can  death  come  more  happily  than  if  her  hand 
guide  the  weapon.  Yet  this  will  not  avail,  for,  unless 
he  wins  the  maid  for  the  Greek  prince,  his  debt  remains 
unpaid.  He  had  promised  to  maintain  a  real,  not  a 
feigned  encounter.  He  will  then  keep  his  word,  and 
banish  every  thought  from  his  bosom  except  that  which 
moved  him  to  maintain  his  truth. 

The  young  prince,  richly  attended,  set  out,  and  with 
him  Rogero,  They  arrived  at  Paris,  but  Leo  preferred 


796  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

not  to  enter  the  city,  and  pitched  his  tents  without  the 
walls,  making  known  his  arrival  to  Charlemagne  by  an 
embassy.  The  monarch  was  pleased,  and  testified  his 
courtesy  by  visits  and  gifts.  The  prince  set  forth  the 
purpose  of  his  coming,  and  prayed  the  Emperor  to  dis- 
patch his  suit — "to  send  forth  the  damsel  who  refused 
ever  to  take  in  wedlock  any  lord  inferior  to  herself  in 
fight;  for  she  should  be  his  bride,  or  he  would  perish 
beneath  her  sword." 

Rogero  passed  the  night  before  the  day  assigned  for 
the  battle  like  that  which  the  felon  spends,  condemned 
to  pay  the  forfeit  of  his  life  on  the  ensuing  day.  He 
chose  to  fight  with  sword  only,  and  on  foot,  for  he 
would  not  let  her  see  Frontino,  knowing  that  she  would 
recognize  the  steed.  Nor  would  he  use  Balisarda,  for 
against  that  enchanted  blade  all  armor  would  be  of  no 
avail,  and  the  sword  that  he  did  take  he  hammered  well 
apon  the  edge  to  abate  its  sharpness.  He  wore  the  sur- 
coat  of  Prince  Leo,  and  his  shield,  emblazoned  with 
a  golden,  double-headed  eagle.  The  prince  took  care  to 
let  himself  be  seen  by  none. 

Bradamante,  meanwhile,  prepared  herself  for  the  com- 
bat far  differently.  Instead  of  blunting  the  edge  of  her 
lalchion  she  whets  the  steel,  and  would  fain  infuse  into 
it  her  own  acerbity.  As  the  moment  approached  she 
seemed  to  have  fire  within  her  veins,  and  waited  impa- 
tiently for  the  trumpet's  sound.  At  the  signal  she  drew 
her  sword,  and  fell  with  fury  upon  her  Rogero.  But 
as  a  well-built  wall  or  aged  rock  stands  unmoved  the 
fury  of  the  storm,  so  Rogero,  clad  in  those  arms  which 
Trojan  Hector  once  wore,  withstood  the  strokes  which 
stormed  about  his  head  and  breast  and  flank.  Sparks 
flew  from  his  shield,  his  helm,  his  cuirass;  from  direct 
and  back  strokes,  aimed  now  high,  now  low,  falling  thick 
and  fast,  like  hailstones  on  a  cottage  roof;  but  Rogero, 
with  skilful  ward,  turns  them  aside,  or  receives  them 
where  his  armor  is  a  sure  protection,  careful  only  to 
protect  himself,  and  with  no  thought  of  striking  in  re- 
turn. Thus  the  hours  passed  away,  and,  as  the  sun  ap- 
proached the  west,  the  damsel  began  to  despair.  But 
tso  much  the  more  her  anger  increases,  and  she  redoubles 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  797 

her  efforts,  like  the  craftsman  who  sees  his  work  unfin- 
ished while  the  day  is  wellnigh  spent.  O  miserable  dam- 
sel !  didst  thou  know  whom  thou  wouldst  kill, — if,  in  that 
cavalier  matched  against  thee  thou  didst  but  know 
Rogero,  on  whom  thy  very  life-threads  hang,  rather  than 
kill  him  thou  wouldst  kill  thyself,  for  he  is  dearer  to 
thee  than  life. 

King  Charles  and  the  peers,  who  thought  the  cavalier 
to  be  the  Grecian  prince,  viewing  such  force  and  skill 
exhibited,  and  how  without  assaulting  her  the  knight 
defended  himself,  were  filled  with  admiration,  and  de- 
clared the  champions  well  matched,  and  worthy  of  each 
other. 

When  the  sun  was  set  Charlemagne  gave  the  signal 
for  terminating  the  contest,  and  Bradamante  was  awarded 
to  Prince  Leo  as  a  bride.  Rogero,  in  deep  distress,  re- 
turned to  his  tent.  There  Leo  unlaced  his  helmet,  and 
kissed  him  on  both  cheeks.  "Henceforth,"  said  he,  "do 
with  me  as  you  please,  for  you  cannot  exhaust  my  grati- 
tude." Rogero  replied  little,  laid  aside  the  ensigns  he 
had  worn,  and  resumed  the  unicorn,  then  hasted  to  with- 
draw himself  from  all  eyes.  When  it  was  midnight  he 
rose,  saddled  Frontino,  and  sallied  from  his  tent,  taking 
that  direction  which  pleased  his  steed.  All  night  he  rode 
absorbed  in  bitter  woe,  and  called  on  Death  as  alone 
capable  of  relieving  his  sufferings.  At  last  he  entered 
a  forest,  and  penetrated  into  its  deepest  recesses.  There 
he  unharnessed  Frontino,  and  suffered  him  to  wander 
where  he  would.  Then  he  threw  himself  down  on  the 
ground,  and  poured  forth  such  bitter  waitings  that  the 
birds  and  beasts,  for  none  else  heard  him,  were  moved 
to  pity  with  his  cries. 

Not  less  was  the  distress  of  the  lady  Bradamante, 
who,  rather  than  wed  any  one  but  Rogero,  resolved  to 
break  her  word,  and  defy  kindred,  court,  and  Charle- 
magne himself;  and,  if  nothing  else  would  do,  to  die. 
But  relief  came  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  Marphisa, 
sister  of  Rogero,  was  a  heroine  of  warlike  prowess  equal 
to  Bradamante.  She  had  been  the  confidante  of  their 
loves,  and  felt  hardly  less  distress  than  themselves  at 
seeing  the  perils  which  threatened  their  union.  "They 


798  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

are  already  united  by  mutual  vows,"  she  said,  "and  in 
the  sight  of  Heaven  what  more  is  necessary?"  Full  of 
this  thought  she  presented  herself  before  Charlemagne, 
and  declared  that  she  herself  was  witness  that  the  maiden 
had  spoken  to  Rogero  those  words  which  they  who  marry 
swear;  and  that  the  compact  was  so  sealed  between  the 
pair  that  they  were  no  longer  free,  nor  could  forsake 
the  one  the  other  to  take  another  spouse.  This  her 
assertion  she  offered  to  prove,  in  single  combat,  against 
Prince  Leo,  or  any  one  else. 

Charlemagne,  sadly  perplexed  at  this,  commanded 
Bradamante  to  be  called,  and  told  her  what  the  bold 
Marphisa  had  declared.  Bradamante  neither  denied  nor 
confirmed  the  statement,  but  hung  her  head,  and  kept 
silence.  Duke  Aymon  was  enraged,  and  would  fain  have 
set  aside  the  pretended  contract  on  the  ground  that,  if 
made  at  all,  it  must  have  been  made  before  Rogero  was 
baptized,  and  therefore  void.  But  not  so  thought 
Rinaldo,  nor  the  good  Orlando,  and  Charlemagne  knew 
not  which  way  to  decide,  when  Marphisa  spoke  thus : 

"Since  no  one  else  can  marry  the  maiden  while  my 
brother  lives,  let  the  prince  meet  Rogero  in  mortal  com- 
bat, and  let  him  who  survives  take  her  for  his  bride." 

This  saying  pleased  the  Emperor,  and  was  accepted 
by  the  prince,  for  he  thought  that,  by  the  aid  of  his  un- 
known champion,  he  should  surely  triumph  in  the  fight. 
Proclamation  was  therefore  made  for  Rogero  to  appear 
and  defend  his  suit ;  and  Leo,  on  his  part,  caused  search 
to  be  made  on  all  sides  for  the  knight  of  the  Unicorn. 

Meanwhile  Rogero,  overwhelmed  with  despair,  lay 
stretched  on  the  ground  in  the  forest  night  and  day 
without  food,  courting  death.  Here  he  was  discovered 
by  one  of  Leo's  people,  who,  finding  him  resist  all  at- 
tempts to  remove  him,  hastened  to  his  master,  who  was 
not  far  off,  and  brought  him  to  the  spot.  As  he  ap- 
proached he  heard  words  which  convinced  him  that  love 
was  the  cause  of  the  knight's  despair;  but  no  clew  was 
given  to  guide  him  to  the  object  of  that  love.  Stooping 
down,  the  prince  embraced  the  weeping  warrior,  and,  in 
the  tenderest  accents,  said :  "Spare  not,  I  entreat  you,  to 
disclose  the  cause  of  your  distress,  for  few  such  desper- 


ROGERO  AND  BRADAMANTE  799 

ate  evils  betide  mankind  as  are  wholly  past  cure.  It 
grieves  me  much  that  you  would  hide  your  grief  from 
me,  for  I  am  bound  to  you  by  ties  that  nothing  can  undo. 
Tell  me,  then,  your  grief,  and  leave  me  to  try  if  wealth, 
art,  cunning,  force,  or  persuasion  cannot  relieve  you. 
If  not,  it  will  be  time  enough  after  all  has  been  tried  in 
vain  to  die." 

He  spoke  in  such  moving  accents  that  Rogero  could 
not  choose  but  yield.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could 
command  utterance;  at  last  he  said,  "My  lord,  when 
you  shall  know  me  for  what  I  am,  I  doubt  not  you,  like 
myself,  will  be  content  that  I  should  die.  Know,  then, 
I  am  that  Rogero  whom  you  have  so  much  cause  to  hate, 
and  who  so  hated  you  that,  intent  on  putting  you  to 
death,  he  went  to  seek  you  at  your  father's  court.  This 
I  did  because  I  could  not  submit  to  see  my  promised 
bride  borne  off  by  you.  But,  as  man  proposes  and  God 
disposes,  your  great  courtesy,  well  tried  in  time  of  sore 
need,  so  moved  my  fixed  resolve,  that  I  not  only  laid 
aside  the  hate  I  bore,  but  purposed  to  be  your  friend 
forever.  You  then  asked  of  me  to  win  for  you  the  lady 
Bradamante,  which  was  all  one  as  to  demand  of  me  my 
heart  and  soul.  You  know  whether  I  served  you  faith- 
fully or  not.  Yours  is  the  lady;  possess  her  in  peace; 
but  ask  me  not  to  live  to  see  it..  Be  content  rather  that 
I  die;  for  vows  have  passed  between  myself  and  her 
which  forbid  that  while  I  live  she  can  lawfully  wive 
with  another." 

So  filled  was  gentle  Leo  with  astonishment  at  these 
words  that  for  a  while  he  stood  silent,  with  lips  unmoved 
and  steadfast  gaze,  like  a  statue.  And  the  discovery 
that  the  stranger  was  Rogero  not  only  abated  not  the 
good  will  he  bore  him,  but  increased  it,  so  that  his  dis- 
tress for  what  Rogero  suffered  seemed  equal  to  his  own. 
For  this,  and  because  he  would  appear  deservedly  an 
Emperor's  son,  and,  though  in  other  things  outdone, 
would  not  be  surpassed  in  courtesy,  he  says:  "Rogero, 
had  1  known  that  day  when  your  matchless  valor  routed 
my  troops  that  you  were  Rogero,  your  virtue  would 
have  made  me  your  own,  as  then  it  made  me  while  I 
knew  not  my  foe,  and  I  should  have  no  less  gladly  res- 


800          LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

cued  you  from  Theodora's  dungeon.  And  if  I  would 
willingly  have  done  so  then,  how  much  more  gladly  will 
I  now  restore  the  gift  of  which  you  would  rob  yourself 
to  confer  it  upon  me.  The  damsel  is  more  due  to  you 
than  to  me,  and  though  I  know  her  worth,  I  would  forego 
not  only  her,  but  life  itself,  rather  than  distress  a  knight 
like  you." 

This  and  much  more  he  said  to  the  same  intent ;  till  at 
last  Rogero  replied,  "I  yield,  and  am  content  to  live,  and 
thus  a  second  time  owe  my  life  to  you." 

But  several  days  elapsed  before  Rogero  was  so  far 
restored  as  to  return  to  the  royal  residence,  where  an 
embassy  had  arrived  from  the  Bulgarian  princes  to  seek 
the  knight  of  the  unicorn,  and  tender  to  him  the 
crown  of  that  country,  in  place  of  their  king,  fallen  in 
battle. 

Thus  were  things  situated  when  Prince  Leo,  leading 
by  the  hand  Rogero,  clad  in  the  battered  armor  in  which 
he  had  sustained  the  conflict  with  Bradamante,  pre- 
sented himself  before  the  king.  "Behold,"  he  said  "the 
champion  who  maintained  from  dawn  to  setting  sun  the 
arduous  contest;  he  comes  to  claim  the  guerdon  of  the 
fight."  King  Charlemagne,  with  all  his  peerage,  stood 
amazed;  for  all  believed  that  the  Grecian  prince  himself 
had  fought  with  Bradamante.  Then  stepped  forth  Mar- 
phisa,  and  said,  "Since  Rogero  is  not  here  to  assert  his 
rights,  I,  his  sister,  undertake  his  cause,  and  will  main- 
tain it  against  whoever  shall  dare  dispute  his  claim." 
She  said  this  with  so  much  anger  and  disdain  that  the 
prince  deemed  it  no  longer  wise  to  feign,  and  withdrew 
Rogero's  helmet  from  his  brow,  saying,  "Behold  him 
here!"  Who  can  describe  the  astonishment  and  joy  of 
Marphisa!  She  ran  and  threw  her  arms  about  her 
brother's  neck,  nor  would  give  way  to  let  Charlemagne 
and  Rinaldo,  Orlando,  Dudon,  and  the  rest,  who 
crowded  round,  embrace  him,  and  press  friendly  kisses 
on  his  brow.  The  joyful  tidings  flew  fast  by  many  a 
messenger  to  Bradamante,  who  in  her  secret  chamber 
lay  lamenting.  The  blood  that  stagnated  about  her  heart 
flowed  at  that  notice  so  fast,  that  she  had  wellnigh  died 
for  joy.  Duke  Aymon  and  the  Lady  Beatrice  no  longer 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       801 

withheld  their  consent,  and  pledged  their  daughter  to 
the  brave  Rogero  before  all  that  gallant  company. 

Now  came  the  Bulgarian  ambassadors,  and,  kneeling 
at  the  feet  of  Rogero,  besought  him  to  return  with  them 
to  their  country,  where,  in  Adrianople,  the  crown  and 
sceptre  were  awaiting  his  acceptance.  Prince  Leo  united 
his  persuasions  to  theirs,  and  promised,  in  his  royal 
father's  name,  that  peace  should  be  restored  on  their 
part.  Rogero  gave  his  consent,  and  it  was  surmised 
that  none  of  the  virtues  which  shone  so  conspicuously 
in  him  so  availed  to  recommend  Rogero  to  the  Lady 
Beatrice  as  the  hearing  her  future  son-in-law  saluted  as 
a  sovereign  prince. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES 

AFTER  the  expulsion  of  the  Saracens  from  France 
Charlemagne  led  his  army  into  Spain,  to  punish  Mar- 
silius,  the  king  of  that  country,  for  having  sided  with 
the  African  Saracens  in  the  late  war.  Charlemagne  suc- 
ceeded in  all  his  attempts,  and  compelled  Marsilius  to 
submit,  and  pay  tribute  to  France.  Our  readers  will 
remember  Gano,  otherwise  called  Gan,  or  Ganelon,  whom 
we  mentioned  in  one  of  our  early  chapters  as  an  old 
courtier  of  Charlemagne,  and  a  deadly  enemy  of  Or- 
lando, Rinaldo,  and  all  their  friends.  He  had  great 
influence  over  Charles,  from  equality  of  age  and  long 
intimacy;  and  he  was  not  without  good  qualities:  he 
was  brave  and  sagacious,  but  envious,  false,  and  treach- 
erous. Gan  prevailed  on  Charles  to  send  him  as  am- 
bassador to  Marsilius,  to  arrange  the  tribute.  He  em- 
braced Orlando  over  and  over  again  at  taking  leave,  using 
such  pains  to  seem  loving  and  sincere,  that  his  hypocrisy 
was  manifest  to  every  one  but  the  old  monarch.  He 
fastened  with  equal  tenderness  on  Oliver,  who  smiled 
contemptuously  in  his  face,  and  thought  to  himself,  "You 
may  make  as  many  fair  speeches  as  you  choose,  but  you 
lie."  All  the  other  paladins  who  were  present  thought 
the  same,  and  they  said  as  much  to  the  Emperor,  adding 


802  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

that  Gan  should  on  no  account  be  sent  ambassador  to 
the  Spaniards.  But  Charles  was  infatuated. 

Gan  was  received  with  great  honor  by  Marsilius. 
The  king,  attended  by  his  lords,  came  fifteen  miles  out 
of  Saragossa  to  meet  him,  and  then  conducted  him  into 
the  city  with  acclamations.  There  was  nothing  for  sev- 
eral days  but  balls,  games,  and  exhibitions  of  chivalry, 
the  ladies  throwing  flowers  on  the  heads  of  the  French 
knights,  and  the  people  shouting,  "France!  Mountjoy 
and  St.  Denis !" 

After  the  ceremonies  of  the  first  reception  the  king 
and  the  ambassador  began  to  understand  one  another. 
One  day  they  sat  together  in  a  garden  on  the  border 
of  a  fountain.  The  water  was  so  clear  and  smooth  it 
reflected  every  object  around,  and  the  spot  was  encircled 
with  fruit-trees  which  quivered  with  the  fresh  air.  As 
they  sat  and  talked,  as  if  without  restraint,  Gan,  with- 
out looking  the  king  in  the  face,  was  enabled  to  sec  the 
expression  of  his  countenance  in  the  water,  and  gov- 
erned his  speech  accordingly.  Marsilius  was  equally 
adroit,  and  watched  the  face  of  Gan  while  he  addressed 
him.  Marsilius  began  by  lamenting,  not  as  to  the  am- 
bassador, but  as  to  the  friend,  the  injuries  which  Charles 
had  done  him  by  invading  his  dominions,  charging  him 
with  wishing  to  take  his  kingdom  from  him  and  give  it 
to  Orlando;  till  at  length  he  plainly  uttered  his  belief 
that  if  that  ambitious  paladin  were  but  dead  good  men 
would  get  their  rights. 

Gan  heaved  a  sigh,  as  if  he  was  unwillingly  compelled 
to  allow  the  force  of  what  the  king  said;  but  unable 
to  contain  himself  long  he  lifted  up  his  face,  radiant  with 
triumphant  wickedness,  and  exclaimed :  "Every  word  you 
utter  is  truth;  die  he  must,  and  die  also  must  Oliver, 
who  struck  me  that  foul  blow  at  court.  Is  it  treachery 
to  punish  affronts  like  these?  I  have  planned  every- 
thing,— I  have  settled  everything  already  with  their  be- 
sotted master.  Orlando  will  come  to  your  borders — 
to  Roncesvalles — for  the  purpose  of  receiving  the  tribute. 
Charles  will  await  him  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  Or- 
lando will  bring  but  a  small  band  with  him :  you,  when 
you  meet  him,  will  have  secretly  your  whole  army  at 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       803 

your  back.  You  surround  him,  and  who  receives  tribute 
then?" 

The  new  Judas  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  when 
his  exultation  was  interrupted  by  a  change  in  the  face 
of  nature.  The  sky  was  suddenly  overcast,  there  was 
thunder  and  lightning,  a  laurel  was  split  in  two  from 
head  to  foot,  and  the  Carob-tree  under  which  Gan  was 
sitting,  which  is  said  to  be  the  species  of  tree  on  which 
Judas  Iscariot  hung  himself,  dropped  one  of  its  pods 
on  his  head. 

Marsilius,  as  well  as  Gan,  was  appalled  at  this  omen ; 
but  on  assembling  his  soothsayers  they  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  laurel-tree  turned  the  omen  against 
the  Emperor,  the  successor  of  the  Caesars,  though  one 
of  them  renewed  the  consternation  of  Gan  by  saying 
that  he  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  the  tree  of 
Judas,  and  intimating  that  perhaps  the  ambassador  could 
explain  it.  Gan  relieved  his  vexation  by  anger;  the  habit 
of  wickedness  prevailed  over  all  other  considerations ; 
and  the  king  prepared  to  march  to  Roncesvalles  at  the 
head  of  all  his  forces. 

Gan  wrote  to  Charlemagne  to  say  how  humbly  and 
submissively  Marsilius  was  coming  to  pay  the  tribute 
into  the  hands  of  Orlando,  and  how  handsome  it  would 
be  of  the  Emperor  to  meet  him  half-way,  and  so  be 
ready  to  receive  him  after  the  payment  at  his  camp. 
He  added  a  brilliant  account  of  the  tribute,  and  the 
accompanying  presents.  The  good  Emperor  wrote  in 
turn  to  say  how  pleased  he  was  with  the  ambassador's 
diligence,  and  that  matters  were  arranged  precisely  as 
he  wished.  His  court,  however,  had  its  suspicion  still, 
though  they  little  thought  Gan's  object  in  bringing 
Charles  into  the  neighborhood  of  Roncesvalles  was  to 
deliver  him  into  the  hands  of  Marsilius,  after  Orlando 
should  have  been  destroyed  by  him. 

Orlando,  however,  did  as  his  lord  and  sovereign  de- 
sired. He  went  to  Roncesvalles,  accompanied  by  a  mod- 
erate train  of  warriors,  not  dreaming  of  the  atrocity  that 
awaited  him.  Gan,  meanwhile,  had  hastened  back  to 
France,  in  order  to  show  himself  free  and  easy  in  the 
presence  of  Charles,  and  secure  the  success  of  his  plot; 


804  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

while  Marsilius,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  brought 
into  the  passes  of  Roncesvalles  no  less  than  three  armies, 
which  were  successively  to  fall  on  the  paladin  in  case 
of  the  worst,  and  so  extinguish  him  with  numbers.  He 
had  also,  by  Gan's  advice,  brought  heaps  of  wine  and 
good  cheer  to  be  set  before  his  victims  in  the  first  in- 
stance; "for  that,"  said  the  traitor,  "will  render  the 
onset  the  more  effective,  the  feasters  being  unarmed. 
One  thing,  however,  I  must  not  forget,"  added  he ;  "my 
son  Baldwin  is  sure  to  be  with  Orlando;  you  must  take 
care  of  his  life  for  my  sake." 

"I  give  him  this  vesture  off  my  own  body/'  said  the 
king;  "let  him  wear  it  in  the  battle,  and  have  no  fear. 
My  soldiers  shall  be  directed  not  to  touch  him." 

Gan  went  away  rejoicing  to  France.  He  embraced 
the  sovereign  and  the  court  all  round  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  had  brought  them  nothing  but  blessings,  and 
the  old  king  wept  for  very  tenderness  and  delight. 

"Something  is  going  on  wrong,  and  looks  very  black," 
thought  Malagigi,  the  good  wizard ;  "Rinaldo  is  not  here, 
and  it  is  indispensably  necessary  that  he  should  be.  I 
must  find  out  where  he  is,  and  Ricciardetto  too,  and 
send  for  them  with  all  speed." 

Malagigi  called  up  by  his  art  a  wise,  terrible,  and 
cruel  spirit,  named  Ashtaroth.  "Tell  me,  and  tell  me 
truly,  of  Rinaldo,"  said  Malagigi  to  the  spirit.  The 
demon  looked  hard  at  the  paladin,  and  said  nothing. 
His  aspect  was  clouded  and  violent. 

The  enchanter,  with  an  aspect  still  cloudier,  bade  Ash- 
taroth lay  down  that  look,  and  made  signs  as  if  he 
would  resort  to  angrier  compulsion;  and  the  devil, 
alarmed,  loosened  his  tongue,  and  said,  "You  have  not 
told  me  what  you  desire  to  know  of  Rinaldo." 

"I  desire  to  know  what  he  has  been  doing,  and  where 
he  is." 

"He  has  been  conquering  and  baptizing  the  world,  east 
and  west,"  said  the  demon,  "and  is  now  in  Egypt  with 
Ricciardetto." 

"And  what  has  Gan  been  plotting  with  Marsilius?" 
inquired  Malagigi;  "and  what  is  to  come  of  it?" 

"I  know  not,"  said  the  devil.    "I  was  not  attending  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       805 

Gan  at  the  time,  and  we  fallen  spirits  know  not  the 
future.  All  I  discern  is  that  by  the  signs  and  comets 
in  the  heavens  something  dreadful  is  about  to  happen — 
something  very  strange,  treacherous,  and  bloody;  and 
that  Gan  has  a  seat  ready  prepared  for  him  in  hell." 

"Within  three  days,"  cried  the  enchanter,  loudly, 
"bring  Rinaldo  and  Ricciardetto  into  the  pass  of  Ronces- 
valles.  Do  it,  and  1  hereby  undertake  to  summon  thee 
no  more." 

"Suppose  they  will  not  trust  themselves  with  me?" 
said  the  spirit. 

"Enter  Rinaldo's  horse,  and  bring  him,  whether  he 
trust  thee  or  not." 

"It  shall  be  done,"  returned  the  demon. 

There  was  an  earthquake,  and  Ashtaroth  disappeared. 

Marsilius  now  made  his  first  movement  towards  the 
destruction  of  Orlando,  by  sending  before  him  his  vas- 
sal. King  Blanchardin,  with  his  presents  of  wines  and 
other  luxuries.  The  temperate  but  courteous  hero  took 
them  in  good  part,  and  distributed  them  as  the  traitor 
wished ;  and  then  Blanchardin,  on  pretence  of  going  for- 
ward to  salute  Charlemagne,  returned,  and  put  himself 
at  the  head  of  the  second  army,  which  was  the  post 
assigned  him  by  his  liege-lord.  King  Falseron,  whose 
son  Orlando  had  slain  in  battle,  headed  the  first  army, 
and  King  Balugante  the  third.  Marsilius  made  a  speech 
to  them,  in  which  he  let  them  into  his  design,  and  con- 
cluded by  recommending  to  their  good  will  the  son  of 
his  friend  Gan,  whom  they  would  know  by  the  vest  he 
had  sent  him,  and  who  was  the  only  soul  amongst  the 
Christian  they  were  to  spare. 

This  son  of  Gan,  meanwhile,  and  several  of  the  pala- 
dins, who  distrusted  the  misbelievers,  and  were  anxious 
at  all  events  to  be  with  Orlando,  had  joined  the  hero  in 
the  fatal  valley;  so  that  the  little  Christian  host,  con- 
sidering the  tremendous  valor  of  their  lord  and  his 
friends,  were  not  to  be  sold  for  nothing.  Rinaldo,  alas! 
Ae  second  thunderbolt  of  Christendom,  was  destined  not 
to  be  there  in  time  to  meet  the  issue.  The  paladins  in 
vain  begged  Orlando  to  be  on  his  guard  against  treach- 


806  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

ery,  and  send  for  a  more  numerous  body  of  men.  The 
great  heart  of  the  Champion  of  the  Faith  was  unwill- 
ing to  harbor  suspicion  as  long  as  he  could  help  it.  He 
refused  to  summon  aid  which  might  be  superfluous; 
neither  would  he  do  anything  but  what  his  liege-lord  had 
directed.  And  yet  he  could  not  wholly  repress  a  mis- 
giving. A  shadow  had  fallen  on  his  heart,  great  and 
cheerful  as  it  was.  The  anticipations  of  his  friends  dis- 
turbed him,  in  spite  of  the  face  with  which  he  met 
them.  Perhaps  by  a  certain  foresight  he  felt  his  death 
approaching;  but  he  felt  bound  not  to  encourage  the 
impression.  Besides,  time  pressed;  the  moment  of  the 
looked-for  tribute  was  at  hand,  and  little  combinations 
of  circumstances  determine  often  the  greatest  events. 

King  Marsilius  was  to  arrive  early  next  day  with  the 
tribute,  and  Oliver,  with  the  morning  sun,  rode  forth  to 
reconnoitre,  and  see  if  he  could  discover  the  peaceful 
pomp  of  the  Spanish  court  in  the  distance.  He  rode 
up  the  nearest  height,  and  from  the  top  of  it  beheld 
the  first  army  of  Marsilius  already  forming  in  the  passes. 
"O  devil  Gan,"  he  exclaimed,  "this  then  is  the  consum- 
mation of  thy  labors !"  Oliver  put  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and  galloped  back  down  the  mountain  to  Orlando. 

"Well,"  cried  the  hero,  "what  news?" 

"Bad  news,"  said  his  cousin,  "such  as  you  would  not 
hear  of  yesterday.  Marsilius  is  here  in  arms,  and  all 
the  world  is  with  him." 

The  paladins  pressed  round  Orlando,  and  entreated 
him  to  sound  his  horn,  in  token  that  he  needed  help.  His 
only  answer  was  to  mount  his  horse,  and  ride  up  the 
mountain  with  Sansonetto. 

As  soon,  however,  as  he  cast  forth  his  eyes,  and  be- 
held what  was  round  about  him,  he  turned  in  sorrow, 
and  looked  down  into  Roncesvalles,  and  said,  "O  miser- 
able valley!  the  blood  shed  in  thee  this  day  will  color 
thy  name  forever." 

Orlando's  little  camp  were  furious  against  the  Sara- 
cens. They  armed  themselves  with  the  greatest  impa- 
tience. There  was  nothing  but  lacing  of  helmets  and 
mounting  of  horses,  while  good  Archbishop  Turpin  went 
from  rank  to  rank  exhorting  and  encouraging  the  war- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       807 

riors  of  Christ.  Orlando  and  his  captains  withdrew  for 
a  moment  to  consultation.  He  fairly  groaned  for  sor- 
row, and  at  first  had  not  a  word  to  say,  so  wretched  he 
felt  at  having  brought  his  people  to  die  in  Roncesvalles. 
Then  he  said :  "If  it  had  entered  into  my  heart  to  con- 
ceive the  king  of  Spain  to  be  such  a  villain  never  would 
you  have  seen  this  day  He  has  exchanged  with  me  a 
thousand  courtesies  and  good  words ;  and  I  thought  that 
the  worse  enemies  we  had  been  before,  the  better  friends 
we  had  become  now.  I  fancied  every  human  being  ca- 
pable of  this  kind  of  virtue  on  a  good  opportunity,  saving, 
indeed,  such  base-hearted  wretches  as  can  never  forgive 
their  very  forgivers;  and  of  these  I  did  not  suppose 
him  to  be  one.  Let  us  die,  if  die  we  must,  like  honest 
and  gallant  men,  so  that  it  shall  be  said  of  us  it  was 
only  our  bodies  that  died.  The  reason  why  I  did  not 
sound  the  horn  was  partly  because  I  thought  it  did  not 
become  us,  and  partly  because  our  liege  lord  could 
hardly  save  us,  even  if  he  heard  it."  And  with  these 
words  Orlando  sprang  to  his  horse,  crying,  "Awayv 
against  the  Saracens!"  But  he  had  no  sooner  turned 
his  face  than  he  wept  bitterly,  and  said,  "O  Holy  Vir- 
gin, think  not  of  me,  the  sinner  Orlando,  but  have  pity 
on  these  thy  servants!" 

And  now  with  a  mighty  dust,  and  an  infinite  sound 
of  horns  and  tambours,  which  came  filling  the  valley, 
the  first  army  of  the  infidels  made  its  appearance,  horses 
neighing,  and  a  thousand  pennons  flying  in  the  air.  King 
Falseron  led  them  on,  saying  to  his  officers :  "Let  no- 
body dare  to  lay  a  finger  on  Orlando.  He  belongs  to 
myself.  The  revenge  of  my  son's  death  is  mine.  I  will 
cut  the  man  down  that  conies  between  us." 

"Now,  friends,"  said  Orlando,  "every  man  for  him- 
self, and  St.  Michael  for  us  all!  There  is  not  one  here 
that  is  not  a  perfect  knight."  And  he  might  well  say 
it,  for  the  flower  of  all  France  was  there,  except  Rinaldo 
and  Ricciardetto — every  man  a  picked  man,  all  friends 
and  constant  companions  of  Orlando. 

So  the  captains  of  the  little  troop  and  of  the  great 
army  sat  looking  at  one  another,  and  singling  one  an- 
other out  as  the  latter  came  on,  and  then  the  knights 


808          LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

put  spear  in  iest,  and  ran  for  a  while  two  and  two  in 
succession,  one  against  the  other. 

Astolpho  was  the  first  to  move.  He  ran  against 
Arlotto  of  Sorio,  and  thrust  his  antagonist's  body  out 
of  the  saddle,  and  his  soul  into  the  other  world.  Oliver 
encountered  Malprimo,  and,  though  he  received  a  thrust 
which  hurt  him,  sent  his  lance  right  through  the  heart 
of  Malprimo. 

Falseron  was  daunted  at  this  hlow.  "Truly,"  thought 
he,  "this  is  a  marvel."  Oliver  did  not  press  on  among 
the  Saracens,  his  wound  was  too  painful;  but  Orlando 
now  put  himself  and  his  whole  band  in  motion,  and 
you  may  guess  what  an  uproar  ensued.  The  sound  of 
the  rattling  of  blows  and  helmets  was  as  if  the  forge  of 
Vulcan  had  been  thrown  open.  Falseron  beheld  Orlando 
coming  so  furiously,  that  he  thought  him  a  Lucifer  who 
had  burst  his  chain,  and  was  quite  of  another  mind  than 
when  he  purposed  to  have  him  all  to  himself.  On  the 
contrary,  he  recommended  himself  to  his  gods,  and 
turned  away,  meaning  to  wait  for  a  more  auspicious  sea- 
son of  revenge.  But  Orlando  hailed  him  with  a  ter- 
rible voice,  saying,  "O  thou  traitor!  was  this  the  end  to 
which  old  quarrels  were  made  up?"  Then  he  dashed 
at  Falseron  with  a  fury  so  swift,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  a  mastery  of  his  lance  so  marvellous,  that,  though 
he  plunged  it  in  the  man's  body  so  as  instantly  to  kill 
him,  and  then  withdrew  it,  the  body  did  not  move  in 
the  saddle.  The  hero  himself,  as  he  rushed  onwards, 
was  fain  to  see  the  end  of  a  stroke  so  perfect,  and  turn- 
ing his  horse  back,  touched  the  carcass  with  his  sword, 
and  it  fell  on  the  instant! 

When  the  infidels  beheld  their  leader  dead  such  fear 
fell  upon  them  that  they  were  for  leaving  the  field  to 
the  paladins,  but  they  were  unable.  Marsilius  had  drawn 
the  rest  of  his  forces  round  the  valley  like  a  net,  so 
that  their  shoulders  were  turned  in  vain.  Orlando  rode 
into  the  thick  of  them,  and  wherever  he  went  thunder- 
bolts fell  upon  helmets.  Oliver  was  again  in  the  fray, 
with  Walter  and  Baldwin,  Avino  and  Avolio,  while  Arch- 
bishop Turpin  had  changed  his  crosier  for  a  lance,  and 
chased  a  new  flock  before  him  to  the  mountains. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       809 

Yet  what  could  be  done  against  foes  without  number? 
Marsilius  constantly  pours  them  in.  The  paladins  are 
as  units  to  thousands.  Why  tarry  the  horses  of  Rinaldo 
and  Ricciardetto  ? 

The  horses  did  not  tarry,  but  fate  had  been  quicker 
than  enchantment.  Ashtaroth  had  presented  himself  to 
Rinaldo  in  Egypt,  and,  after  telling  his  errand,  he  and 
Foul-mouth,  his  servant,  entered  the  horses  of  Rinaldo 
and  Ricciardetto,  which  began  to  neigh,  and  snort,  and 
leap  with  the  fiends  within  them,  till  off  they  flew  through 
the  air  over  the  pyramids  and  across  the  desert,  and 
reached  Spain  and  the  scene  of  action  just  as  Marsilius 
brought  up  his  third  army.  The  two  paladins  on  their 
horses  dropped  right  into  the  midst  of  the  Saracens,  and 
began  making  such  havoc  among  them  that  Marsilius, 
who  overlooked  the  fight  from  a  mountain,  thought  his 
soldiers  had  turned  against  one  another.  Orlando  beheld 
it,  and  guessed  it  could  be  no  other  but  his  cousins,  and 
pressed  to  meet  them.  Oliver  coming  up  at  the  same 
moment,  the  rapture  of  the  whole  party  is  not  to  be  ex- 
pressed. After  a  few  hasty  words  of  explanation  they 
were  forced  to  turn  again  upon  the  enemy,  whose  num- 
bers seemed  perfectly  without  limit. 

Orlando,  making  a  bloody  passage  towards  Marsilius, 
struck  a  youth  on  the  head,  whose  helmet  was  so  strong 
as  to  resist  the  blow,  but  at  the  same  time  flew  off.  Or- 
lando prepared  to  strike  a  second  blow,  when  the  youth 
exclaimed,  "Hold!  you  loved  my  father;  I  am  Buja- 
forte !"  The  paladin  had  never  seen  Bujaforte,  but  he 
saw  the  likeness  to  the  good  old  man,  his  father,  and 
he  dropped  his  sword.  "O  Bujaforte,"  said  he,  "I  loved 
him  indeed;  but  what  does  his  son  do  here  fighting 
against  his  friends?" 

Bujaforte  could  not  at  once  speak  for  weeping.  At 
length  he  said :  "I  am  forced  to  be  here  by  my  lord  and 
master,  Marsilius ;  and  I  have  made  a  show  of  fighting, 
but  have  not  hurt  a  single  Christian.  Treachery  is  on 
every  side  of  you.  Baldwin  himself  has  a  vest  given 
him  by  Marsilius,  that  everybody  may  know  the  son  of 
his  friend  Gan,  and  do  him  no  harm." 

"Put  your  helmet  on  ag^in,"  said  Orlando,  "and  be- 


810  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

have  just  as  you  have  done.     Never  will  your  father's 
friend  be  an  enemy  to  the  son." 

The  hero  then  turned  in  fury  to  look  for  Baldwin, 
who  was  hastening  towards  him  at  that  moment,  with 
friendliness  in  his  looks. 

"  Tis  strange,"  said  Baldwin,  "I  have  done  my  duty 
as  well  as  I  could,  yet  nobody  will  come  against  me. 
I  have  slain  right  and  left,  and  cannot  comprehend  what 
it  is  that  makes  the  stoutest  infidels  avoid  me." 

"Take  off  your  vest,"  said  Orlando,  contemptuously, 
"and  you  will  soon  discover  the  secret,  if  you  wish  to 
know  it.  Your  father  has  sold  us  to  Marsilius,  all  but 
his  honorable  son." 

"If  my  father,"  said  Baldwin,  impetuously  tearing  off 
the  vest,  ''has  been  such  a  villain,  and  I  escape  dying, 
I  will  plunge  this  sword  through  his  heart.  But  I  am 
no  traitor,  Orlando,  and  you  do  me  wrong  to  say  it. 
Think  not  I  can  live  with  dishonor." 

Baldwin  spurred  off  into  the  fight,  not  waiting  to  hear 
another  word  from  Orlando,  who  was  very  sorry  for 
what  he  had  said,  for  he  perceived  that  the  youth  was 
in  despair. 

And  now  the  fight  raged  beyond  all  it  had  done  be- 
fore; twenty  pagans  went  down  for  one  paladin,  but 
still  the  paladins  fell.  Sansonetto  was  beaten  to  earth  by 
the  club  of  Grandonio,  Walter  d'Amulion  had  his  shoul- 
der broken,  Berlinghieri  and  Ottone  were  slain,  and  at 
last  Astolpho  fell,  in  revenge  of  whose  death  Orlando 
turned  the  spot  where  he  died  into  a  lake  of  Saracen 
blood.  The  luckless  Bujaforte  met  Rinaldo,  and  before 
he  could  explain  how  he  seemed  to  be  fighting  on  the 
Saracen  side  received  such  a  blow  upon  the  head  that 
he  fell,  unable  to  utter  a  word.  Orlando,  cutting  his 
way  to  a  spot  where  there  was  a  great  struggle  and  up- 
roar, found  the  poor  youth  Baldwin,  the  son  of  Gan, 
with  two  spears  in  his  breast.  "I  am  no  traitor  now/' 
said  Baldwin,  and  those  were  the  last  words  he  said. 
Orlando  was  bitterly  sorry  to  have  been  the  cause  of  his 
death,  and  tears  streamed  from  his  eyes.  At  length 
down  went  Oliver  himself.  He  had  become  blinded  with 
his  own  blood,  and  smitten  Orlando  without  knowing 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       811 

him.  "How  now,  cousin,"  cried  Orlando,  "have  you  too 
gone  over  to  the  enemy?"  "O  my  lord  and  master/' 
cried  the  other,  "I  ask  your  pardon.  I  can  see  nothing; 
I  am  dying.  Some  traitor  has  stabbed  me  in  the  back. 
If  you  love  me,  lead  my  horse  into  the  thick  of  them, 
so  that  I  may  not  die  unavenged." 

"1  shall  die  myself  before  long,"  said  Orlando,  "out 
of  very  toil  and  grief ;  so  we  will  go  together." 

Orlando  led  his  cousin's  horse  where  the  press  was 
thickest,  and  dreadful  was  the  strength  of  the  dying 
man  and  his  tired  companion.  They  made  a  street 
through  which  they  passed  out  of  the  battle,  and  Or- 
lando led  his  cousin  away  to  his  tent,  and  said,  "Wait 
a  little  till  I  return,  for  I  will  go  and  sound  the  horn 
on  the  hill  yonder." 

"  Tis  of  no  use,"  said  Oliver,  "my  spirit  is  fast  going 
and  desires  to  be  with  its  Lord  and  Saviour." 

He  would  have  said  more,  but  his  words  came  from 
him  imperfectly,  like  those  of  a  man  in  a  dream,  and 
so  he  expired. 

When  Orlando  saw  him  dead  he  felt  as  if  he  was 
alone  on  the  earth,  and  he  was  quite  willing  to  leave 
it,  only  he  wished  that  King  Charles,  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains,  should  know  how  the  case  stood  before 
he  went.  So  he  took  up  the  horn  and  blew  it  three 
times,  with  such  force  that  the  blood  burst  out  of  his 
nose  and  mouth.  Turpin  says  that  at  the  third  blast  the 
horn  broke  in  two. 

In  spite  of  all  the  noise  of  the  battle,  the  sound  of 
the  horn  broke  over  it  like  a  voice  out  of  the  other 
world.  They  say  that  birds  fell  dead  at  it,  and  that 
the  whole  Saracen  army  drew  back  in  terror.  Charle- 
magne was  sitting  in  the  midst  of  his  court  when  the 
sound  reached  him,  and  Gan  was  there.  The  Emperor 
was  the  first  to  hear  it. 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  said  he  to  his  nobles.  "Did  you 
hear  the  horn  as  I  heard  it?" 

Upon  this  they  all  listened,  and  Gan  felt  his 
heart  misgive  him.  The  horn  sounded  a  second 
time. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  said  Charles. 


812  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"Orlando  is  hunting/'  observed  Gan,  "and  the  stag 
is  killed." 

But  when  the  horn  sounded  yet  a  third  time,  and 
the  blast  was  one  of  so  dreadful  a  vehemence,  every- 
body looked  at  the  other,  and  then  they  all  looked  at 
Gan  in  a  fury.  Charles  rose  from  his  seat. 

"This  is  no  hunting  of  the  stag,"  said  he.  "The 
sound  goes  to  my  very  heart.  O  Gan !  O  Gan !  Not 
for  thee  do  I  blush,  but  for  myself.  O  foul  and  mon- 
strous villain !  Take  him,  gentleman,  and  keep  him  in 
close  prison.  Would  to  God  I  had  not  lived  to  see  this 
day!" 

But  it  was  no  time  for  words.  They  put  the  traitor 
in  prison  and  then  Charles,  with  all  his  court,  took  his 
way  to  Roncesvalles,  grieving  and  praying. 

It  was  afternoon  when  the  horn  sounded,  and  half 
an  hour  after  it  when  the  Emperor  set  out;  and  mean- 
time Orlando  had  returned  to  the  fight  that  he  might 
dp  his  duty,  however  hopeless,  as  long  as  he  could  sit 
his  horse.  At  length  he  found  his  end  approaching, 
for  toil  and  fever,  and  rode  all  alone  to  a  fountain 
where  he  had  before  quenched  his  thirst.  His  horse 
was  wearier  than  he,  and  no  sooner  had  his  master 
alighted  than  the  beast,  kneeling  down  as  if  to  take  leave, 
and  to  say,  "I  have  brought  you  to  a  place  of  rest/' 
fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Orlando  cast  water  on  him  from 
the  fountain,  not  wishing  to  believe  him  dead;  but  when 
he  found  it  to  no  purpose,  he  grieved  for  him  as  if  he 
had  been  a  human  being,  and  addressed  him  by  name 
with  tears,  and  asked  forgiveness  if  he  had  ever  done 
him  wrong.  They  say  that  the  horse,  at  these  words, 
opened  his  eyes  a  little,  and  looked  kindly  at  his  master, 
and  then  stirred  never  more.  They  say  also  that  Or- 
lando then  summoning  all  his  strength,  smote  a  rock 
near  him  with  his  beautiful  sword  Durindana,  thinking 
to  shiver  the  steel  in  pieces,  and  so  prevent  its  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  but  though  the  rock  split 
like  a  slate,  and  a  great  cleft  remained  ever  after  to 
astonish  the  eyes  of  pilgrims,  the  sword  remained  un- 
injured. 

And  now  Rinaldo  and  Ricciardetto  came   up,   with 


THE  BATTLE  OF  RONCESVALLES       813 

Turpin,  having  driven  back  the  Saracens,  and  told  Or- 
lando that  the  battle  was  won.  Then  Orlando  knelt 
before  Turpin  and  begged  remission  of  his  sins,  and 
Turpin  gave  him  absolution.  Orlando  fixed  his  eyes  on 
the  hilt  of  his  sword  as  on  a  crucifix,  and  embraced  it, 
and  he  raised  his  eyes  and  appeared  like  a  creature 
seraphical  and  transfigured,  and  bowing  his  head,  he 
breathed  out  his  pure  soul. 

And  now  King  Charles  and  his  nobles  came  up.  The 
Emperor,  at  sight  of  the  dead  Orlando,  threw  himself, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  reckless  youth,  from  his  horse,  and 
embraced  and  kissed  the  body,  and  said:  "I  bless  thee, 
Orlando ;  I  bless  thy  whole  life,  and  all  that  thou  wast, 
and  all  that  thou  ever  didst,  and  the  father  that  begat 
thee;  and  I  ask  pardon  of  thee  for  believing  those  who 
brought  thee  to  thine  end.  They  shall  have  their  re- 
ward, O  thou  beloved  one!  But  indeed  it  is  thou  that 
livest,  and  I  who  am  worse  than  dead." 

Horrible  to  the  Emperor's  eyes  was  the  sight  of  the 
field  of  Roncesvalles.  The  Saracens  indeed  had  fled, 
conquered;  but  all  his  paladins  but  two  were  left  on  it 
dead,  and  the  whole  valley  looked  like  a  great  slaughter- 
house, trampled  into  blood  and  dirt,  and  reeking  to  the 
heat.  Charles  trembled  to  his  heart's  core  for  wonder 
and  agony.  After  gazing  dumbly  on  the  place  he  cursed 
it  with  a  solemn  curse,  and  wished  that  never  grass  might 
grow  in  it  again,  nor  seed  of  any  kind,  neither  within  it 
nor  on  any  of  its  mountains  around,  but  the  anger  of 
Heaven  abide  over  it  forever. 

Charles  and  his  warriors  went  after  the  Saracens  into 
Spain.  They  took  and  fired  Saragossa,  and  Marsilius 
was  hung  to  the  carob-tree  under  which  he  had  planned 
his  villainy  with  Gan ;  and  Gan  was  hung  and  drawn  and 
quartered  in  Roncesvalles,  amidst  the  execrations  of  the 
country. 


814  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


RINALDO   AND    BAYARD 

CHARLEMAGNE  was  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the 
loss  of  so  many  of  his  bravest  warriors  at  the  disaster 
of  Roncesvalles,  and  bitterly  reproached  himself  for  his 
credulity  in  resigning  himself  so  completely  to  the  coun- 
sels of  the  treacherous  Count  Gan.  Yet  he  soon  fell 
into  a  similar  snare  when  he  suffered  his  unworthy  son, 
Chariot,  to  acquire  such  an  influence  over  him,  that  he 
constantly  led  him  into  acts  of  cruelty  and  injustice  that 
in  his  right  mind  he  would  have  scorned  to  commit. 
Rinaldo  and  his  brothers,  for  some  slight  offence  to 
the  imperious  young  prince,  were  forced  to  fly  from 
Paris,  and  to  take  shelter  in  their  castle  of  Montalban; 
for  Charles  had  publicly  said,  if  he  could  take  them  he 
would  hang  them  all.  He  sent  numbers  of  his  bravest 
knights  to  arrest  them,  but  all  without  success.  Either 
Rinaldo  foiled  their  efforts  and  sent  them  back,  stripped 
of  their  armor  and  of  their  glory,  or,  after  meeting  and 
conferring  with  him,  they  came  back  and  told  the  king 
they  could  not  be  his  instruments  for  such  a  work. 

At  last  Charles  himself  raised  a  great  army,  and  went 
in  person  to  compel  the  paladin  to  submit.  He  ravaged 
all  the  country  round  about  Montalban,  so  that  supplies 
of  food  should  be  cut  off,  and  he  threatened  death  to 
any  who  should  attempt  to  issue  forth,  hoping  to  compel 
the  garrison  to  submit  for  want  of  food. 

Rinaldo's  resources  had  been  brought  so  low  that  it 
seemed  useless  to  contend  any  longer.  His  brothers 
had  been  taken  prisoners  in  a  skirmish,  and  his  only 
hope  of  saving  their  lives  was  in  making  terms  with 
the  king. 

So  he  sent  a  messenger,  offering  to  yield  himself  and 
his  castle  if  the  king  would  spare  his  and  his  brothers' 
lives.  While  the  messenger  was  gone  Rinaldo,  impa- 
tient to  learn  what  tidings  he  might  bring,  rode  out  to 
meet  him.  When  he  had  ridden  as  far  as  he  thought 
prudent  he  stopped  in  a  wood,  and  alighting,  tied  Bayard 
to  a  tree.  Then  he  sat  down,  and,  as  he  waited,  he 


RINALDO  AND  BAYARD  815 

fell  asleep.  Bayard  meanwhile  got  loose,  and  strayed 
away  where  the  grass  tempted  him.  Just  then  came 
along  some  country  people,  who  said  to  one  another, 
"Look,  is  not  that  the  great  horse  Bayard  that  Rinaldo 
rides  ?  Let  us  take  him,  and  carry  him  to  King  Charles, 
who  will  pay  us  well  for  our  trouble."  They  did  so, 
and  the  king  was  delighted  with  his  prize,  and  gave 
them  a  present  that  made  them  rich  to  their  dying  day. 

When  Rinaldo  woke  he  looked  round  for  his  horse, 
and,  finding  him  not,  he  groaned,  and  said,  "O  unlucky 
hour  that  I  was  born !  how  fortune  persecutes  me !"  So 
desperate  was  he  that  he  took  off  his  armor  and  his 
spurs,  saying,  "What  need  have  I  of  these,  since  Bayard 
is  lost?"  While  he  stood  thus  lamenting,  a  man  came 
from  the  thicket,  seemingly  bent  with  age.  He  had  a 
long  beard  hanging  over  his  breast,  and  eyebrows  that 
almost  covered  his  eyes.  He  bade  Rinaldo  good  day. 
Rinaldo  thanked  him,  and  said,  "A  good  day  I  have 
hardly  had  since  I  was  born."  Then  said  the  old  man, 
"Signor  Rinaldo,  you  must  not  despair,  for  God  will 
make  all  things  turn  to  the  best."  Rinaldo  answered, 
"My  trouble  is  too  heavy  for  me  to  hope  relief.  The 
king  has  taken  my  brothers,  and  means  to  put  them  to 
death.  I  thought  to  rescue  them  by  means  of  my  horse 
Bayard,  but  while  I  slept  some  thief  has  stolen  him." 
The  old  man  replied,  "I  will  remember  you  and  your 
brothers  in  my  prayers.  I  am  a  poor  man,  have  you 
not  something  to  give  me?"  Rinaldo  said,  "I  have  noth- 
ing to  give,"  but  then  he  recollected  his  spurs.  He  gave 
them  to  the  beggar,  and  said,  "Here,  take  my  spurs 
They  are  the  first  present  my  mother  gave  me  when  my 
father,  Count  Aymon,  dubbed  me  knight.  They  ought 
to  bring  you  ten  pounds." 

The  old  man  took  the  spurs,  and  put  them  into  his 
sack,  and  said,  "Noble  sir,  have  you  nothing  else  you 
can  give  me?"  Rinaldo  replied,  "Are  you  making  sport 
of  me?  I  tell  you  truly  if  it  were  not  for  shame  to 
beat  one  so  helpless,  I  would  teach  you  better  man- 
ners." The  old  man  said,  "Of  a  truth,  sir,  if  you  did 
so  you  would  do  a  great  sin.  If  all  had  beaten  me  of 
whom  I  have  begged  I  should  have  been  killed  long 


816  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

ago,  for  I  ask  alms  in  churches  and  convents, 
wherever  I  can."  "You  say  true,"  replied  Rinaldo,  "if 
you  did  not  ask,  none  would  relieve  you."  The  old 
man  said,  "True,  noble  sir,  therefore  I  pray  if  you  have 
anything  more  to  spare,  give  it  me."  Rinaldo  gave  him 
his  mantle,  and  said,  "Take  it,  pilgrim.  I  give  it  you 
for  the  love  of  Christ,  that  God  would  save  my  brothers 
from  a  shameful  death,  and  help  me  to  escape  out  of 
King  Charles's  power." 

The  pilgrim  took  the  mantle,  folded  it  up,  and  put 
it  into  his  bag.  Then  a  third  time  he  said  to  Rinaldo, 
"Sir,  have  you  nothing  left  to  give  me  that  I  may  re- 
member you  in  my  prayers?"  "Wretch!"  exclaimed 
Rinaldo,  "do  you  make  me  your  sport?"  and  he  drew 
his  sword,  and  struck  at  him ;  but  the  old  man  warded 
off  the  blow  with  his  staff,  and  said,  "Rinaldo,  would 
you  slay  your  cousin,  Malagigi?"  When  Rinaldo  heard 
that  he  stayed  his  hand,  and  gazed  doubtingly  on  the 
old  man,  who  now  threw  aside  his  disguise,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  indeed  Malagigi.  "Dear  cousin,"  said 
Rinaldo,  "pray  forgive  me.  T  did  not  know  you.  Next 
to  God,  my  trust  is  in  you.  Help  my  brothers  to  escape 
out  of  prison,  I  entreat  you.  I  have  lost  my  horse, 
and  therefore  cannot  render  them  any  assistance."  Mala- 
gigi answered,  "Cousin  Rinaldo,  I  will  enable  you  to 
recover  your  horse.  Meanwhile,  you  must  do  as  I 
say." 

Then  Malagigi  took  from  his  sack  a  gown,  and  gave 
it  to  Rinaldo  to  put  on  over  his  armor,  and  a  hat  that 
was  full  of  holes,  and  an  old  pair  of  shoes  to  put  on. 
They  looked  like  two  pilgrims,  very  old  and  poor.  Then 
they  went  forth  from  the  wood,  and  after  a  little  while 
saw  four  monks  riding  along  the  road.  Malagigi  said  to 
Rinaldo,  "I  will  go  meet  the  monks,  and  see  what  news 
I  can  learn." 

Malagigi  learned  from  the  monks  that  on  the  ap- 
proaching festival  there  would  be  a  great  crowd  of  peo- 
ple at  court,  for  the  prince  was  going  to  show  the  ladies 
the  famous  horse  Bayard  that  used  to  belong  to  Rinaldo. 
"What!"  said  the  pilgrim;  "is  Bayard  there?"  "Yes," 
answered  the  monks;  "the  king  has  given  him  to  Chariot. 


RINALDO  AND  BAYARD  817 

and,  after  the  prince  has  ridden  him  the  king  means  to 
pass  sentence  on  the  brothers  of  Rinaldo,  and  have  them 
hanged."  Then  Malagigi  asked  alms  of  the  monks,  but 
they  would  give  him  none,  till  he  threw  aside  his  pilgrim 
garb,  and  let  them  see  his  armor,  when,  partly  for  char- 
ity and  partly  for  terror,  they  gave  him  a  golden  cup, 
adorned  with  precious  stones  that  sparkled  in  the 
sunshine. 

Malagigi  then  hastened  back  to  Rinaldo,  and  told  him 
what  he  had  learned. 

The  morning  of  the  feast-day  Rinaldo  and  Malagigi 
came  to  the  place  where  the  sports  were  to  be  held. 
Malagigi  gave  Rinaldo  his  spurs  back  again,  and  said, 
"Cousin,  put  on  your  spurs,  for  you  will  need  them." 
"How  shall  I  need  them,"  said  Rinaldo,  "since  I  have 
lost  my  horse?"  Yet  he  did  as  Malagigi  directed  him. 

When  the  two  had  taken  their  stand  on  the  border 
of  the  field  among  the  crowd  the  princes  and  ladies  of 
the  court  began  to  assemble.  When  they  were  all  as- 
sembled the  king  came  also,  and  Chariot  with  him,  near 
whom  the  horse  Bayard  was  led,  in  the  charge  of  grooms, 
who  were  expressly  enjoined  to  guard  him  safely.  The 
king,  looking  round  on  the  circle  of  spectators,  saw 
Malagigi  and  Rinaldo,  and  observed  the  splendid  cup 
that  they  had,  and  said  to  Chariot,  "See,  my  son,  what 
a  brilliant  cup  those  two  pilgrims  have  got.  It  seems 
to  be  worth  a  hundred  ducats."  "That  is  true,"  said 
Chariot;  "Let  us  go  and  ask  where  they  got  it."  So 
they  rode  to  the  place  where  the  pilgrims  stood,  and 
Chariot  stopped  Bayard  close  to  them. 

The  horse  snuffed  at  the  pilgrims,  knew  Rinaldo,  and 
caressed  his  master.  The  king  said  to  Malagigi,  "Friend, 
where  did  you  get  that  beautiful  cup?"  Malagigi  re- 
plied, "Honorable  sir,  I  paid  for  it  all  the  money  1  have 
saved  from  eleven  years'  begging  in  churches  and  con- 
vents. The  Pope  himself  has  blessed  it,  and  given  it 
the  power  that  whosoever  eats  or  drinks  out  of  it  shall 
be  pardoned  of  all  his  sins."  Then  said  the  king  to 
Chariot,  "My  son,  these  are  right  holy  men;  see  how 
the  dumb  beast  worships  them." 

Then  the  king  said  to  Malagigi,  "Give  me  a  morsel 


818  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

from  your  cup,  that  I  may  be  cleared  of  my  sins." 
Malagigi  answered,  "Illustrious  lord,  I  dare  not  do  it, 
unless  you  will  forgive  all  who  have  at  any  time  of- 
fended you.  You  know  that  Christ  forgave  all  those 
who  had  betrayed  and  crucified  him."  The  king  replied, 
"Friend,  that  is  true;  but  Rinaldo  has  so  grievously  of- 
fended me,  that  I  cannot  forgive  him,  nor  that  other 
man,  Malagigi,  the  magician.  These  two  shall  never  live 
in  my  kingdom  again.  If  I  catch  them  I  will  certainly 
have  them  hanged.  But  tell  me,  pilgrim,  who  is  that 
man  who  stands  beside  you?"  "He  is  deaf,  dumb,  and 
blind,"  said  Malagigi.  Then  the  king  said  again,  "Give 
me  to  drink  of  your  cup,  to  take  away  my  sins."  Mala- 
gigi answered,  "My  lord  king,  here  is  my  poor  brother, 
who  for  fifty  days  has  not  heard,  spoken,  nor  seen.  This 
misfortune  befell  him  in  a  house  where  we  found  shel- 
ter, and  the  day  before  yesterday  we  met  with  a  wise 
woman,  who  told  him  the  only  hope  of  a  cure  for  him 
was  to  come  to  some  place  where  Bayard  was  to  be 
ridden,  and  to  mount  and  ride  him ;  that  would  do  him 
more  good  than  anything  else."  Then  said  the  king, 
"Friend,  you  have  come  to  the  right  place,  for  Bayard 
is  to  be  ridden  here  to-day.  Give  me  a  draught  from 
your  cup,  and  your  companion  shall  ride  upon  Bayard." 
Malagigi,  hearing  these  words,  said,  "Be  it  so."  Then 
the  king,  with  great  devotion,  took  a  spoon,  and  dipped 
a  portion  from  the  pilgrim's  cup,  believing  that  his  sins 
should  be  thereby  forgiven. 

When  this  was  done,  the  king  said  to  Chariot,  "Son, 
I  request  that  you  will  let  this  sick  pilgrim  sit  on  your 
horse,  and  ride  if  he  can,  for  by  so  doing  he  will  be 
healed  of  all  his  infirmities."  Chariot  replied,  "That 
will  I  gladly  do."  So  saying,  he  dismounted,  and  the 
servants  took  the  pilgrim  in  their  arms,  and  helped  him 
on  the  horse. 

When  Rinaldo  was  mounted,  he  put  his  feet  in  the 
stirrups,  and  said,  "I  would  like  to  ride  a  little."  Mala- 
gigi, hearing  him  speak,  seemed  delighted,  and  asked  him 
whether  he  could  see  and  hear  also.  "Yes,"  said  Rinaldo, 
"I  am  healed  of  all  my  infirmities."  When  the  king 
heard  it  he  said  to  Bishop  Turpin,  "My  lord  bishop,  we 


DEATH  OF  RINALDO  819 

must  celebrate  this  with  a  procession,  with  crosses  and 
banners,  for  it  is  a  great  miracle/' 

When  Rinaldo  remarked  that  he  was  not  carefully 
watched,  he  spoke  to  the  horse,  and  touched  him  with 
the  spurs.  Bayard  knew  that  his  master  was  upon  him, 
and  he  started  off  upon  a  rapid  pace,  and  in  a  few 
moments  was  a  good  way  off.  Malagigi  pretended  to 
be  in  great  alarm.  "O  noble  king  and  master,"  he  cried, 
"my  poor  companion  is  run  away  with;  he  will  fall 
and  break  his  neck."  The  king  ordered  his  knights  to 
ride  after  the  pilgrim,  and  bring  him  back,  or  help  him 
if  need  were.  They  did  so,  but  it  was  in  vain.  Rinaldo 
left  them  all  behind  him,  and  kept  on  his  way  till  he 
reached  Montalban.  Malagigi  was  suffered  to  depart, 
unsuspected,  and  he  went  his  way,  making  sad  lamenta- 
tion for  the  fate  of  his  comrade,  who  he  pretended  to 
think  must  surely  be  dashed  to  pieces. 

Malagigi  did  not  go  far,  but  having  changed  his  dis- 
guise, returned  to  where  the  king  was,  and  employed 
his  best  art  in  getting  the  brothers  of  Rinaldo  out  of 
prison.  He  succeeded ;  and  all  three  got  safely  to  Mon- 
talban, where  Rinaldo's  joy  at  the  rescue  of  his  brothers 
and  the  recovery  of  Bayard  was  more  than  tongue  can 
tell. 


DEATH  OF  RINALDO 

THE  distress  in  Rinaldo's  castle  for  want  of  food  grew 
more  severe  every  day,  under  the  pressure  of  the  siege. 
The  garrison  were  forced  to  kill  their  horses,  both  to 
save  the  provision  they  would  consume,  and  to  make 
food  of  their  flesh.  At  last  all  the  horses  were  killed 
except  Bayard,  and  Rinaldo  said  to  his  brothers,  "Bayard 
must  die,  for  we  have  nothing  else  to  eat."  So  they 
went  to  the  stable  and  brought  out  Bayard  to  kill  him. 
But  Alardo  said,  "Brother,  let  Bayard  live  a  little  longer; 
who  knows  what  God  may  do  for  us  ?" 

Bayard  heard  these  words,  and  understood  them  as  if 
he  was  a  man,  and  fell  on  his  knees,  as  if  he  would 


820  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

beg  for  mercy.  When  Rinaldo  saw  the  distress  of  his 
horse  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  let  him  live. 

Just  at  this  time  Aya,  Rinaldo's  mother,  who  was  the 
sister  of  the  Emperor,  came  to  the  camp,  attended  by 
knights  and  ladies,  to  intercede  for  her  sons.  She  fell 
on  her  knees  before  the  king,  and  besought  him  that 
he  would  pardon  Rinaldo  and  his  brothers :  and  all 
the  peers  and  knights  took  her  side,  and  entreated  the 
king  to  grant  her  prayer.  Then  said  the  king,  "Dear 
sister,  you  act  the  part  of  a  good  mother,  and  I  respect 
your  tender  heart,  and  yield  to  your  entreaties.  I  will 
spare  your  sons  their  lives  if  they  submit  implicitly  to 
my  will." 

When  Chariot  heard  this  he  approached  the  king  and 
whispered  in  his  ear.  And  the  king  turned  to  his  sister 
and  said,  "Chariot  must  have  Bayard,  because  I  have 
given  the  horse  to  him.  Now  go,  my  sister,  and  tell 
Rinaldo  what  I  have  said." 

When  the  Lady  Aya  heard  these  words  she  was  de- 
lighted, thanked  God  in  her  heart,  and  said,  "Worthy 
king  and  brother,  I  will  do  as  you  bid  me."  So  she 
went  into  the  castle,  where  her  sons  received  her  most 
joyfully  and  affectionately,  and  she  told  them  the  king's 
offer.  Then  Alardo  said,  "Brother,  I  would  rather  have 
the  king's  enmity  than  give  Bayard  to  Chariot,  for  I 
believe  he  will  kill  him."  Likewise  said  all  the  brothers. 
When  Rinaldo  heard  them  he  said,  "Dear  brothers,  if 
we  may  win  our  forgiveness  by  giving  up  the  horse,  so  be 
it.  Let  us  make  our  peace,  for  we  cannot  stand  against 
the  king's  power."  Then  he  went  to  his  mother,  and 
told  her  they  would  give  the  horse  to  Chariot,  and  more, 
too,  if  the  king  would  pardon  them,  and  forgive  all 
that  they  had  done  against  his  crown  and  dignity.  The 
lady  returned  to  Charles  and  told  him  the  answer  of 
her  sons. 

When  the  peace  was  thus  made  between  the  king  and 
the  sons  of  Aymon,  the  brothers  came  forth  from  the 
castle,  bringing  Bayard  with  them,  and,  falling  at  the 
king's  feet,  begged  his  forgiveness.  The  king  bade  them 
rise,  and  received  them  into  favor  in  the  sight  of  all 
his  noble  knights  and  counsellors,  to  the  great  joy  of  all. 


DEATH  OF  RINALDO  821 

especially  of  the  Lady  Aya,  their  mother.  Then  Rinaldo 
took  the  horse  Bayard,  gave  him  to  Chariot,  and  said, 
"My  lord  and  prince,  this  horse  I  give  to  you;  do  with 
Viim  as  to  you  seems  good."  Chariot  took  him,  as  had 
been  agreed  on.  Then  he  made  the  servants  take  him 
to  the  bridge,  and  throw  him  into  the  water.  Bayard 
sank  to  the  bottom,  but  soon  came  to  the  surface  again 
and  swam,  saw  Rinaldo  looking  at  him,  came  to  land, 
ran  to  his  old  master,  and  stood  by  him  as  proudly  as 
if  he  had  understanding,  and  would  say,  "Why  did  you 
treat  me  so?"  When  the  prince  saw  that  he  said, 
"Rinaldo,  give  me  the  horse  again,  for  he  must  die." 
Rinaldo  replied,  "My  lord  and  prince,  he  is  yours  with- 
out dispute,"  and  gave  him  to  him.  The  prince  then  had 
a  millstone  tied  to  each  foot,  and  two  to  his  neck,  and 
made  them  throw  him  again  into  the  water.  Bayard 
struggled  in  the  water,  looked  up  to  his  master,  threw 
off  the  stones,  and  came  back  to  Rinaldo. 

When  Alardo  saw  that,  he  said,  "Now  must  thou 
be  disgraced  forever,  brother,  if  thou  give  up  the  horse 
again."  But  Rinaldo  answered,  "Brother,  be  still.  Shall 
I  for  the  horse's  life  provoke  the  anger  of  the  king 
again  ?"  Then  Alardo  said,  "Ah,  Bayard !  what  a  return 
do  we  make  for  all  thy  true  love  and  service !"  Rinaldo 
gave  the  horse  to  the  prince  again,  and  said,  "My  lord, 
if  the  horse  comes  out  again  I  cannot  return  him  to  you 
any  more,  for  it  wrings  my  heart  too  much."  Then 
Chariot  had  Bayard  loaded  with  the  stones  as  before,  and 
thrown  into  the  water;  and  commanded  Rinaldo  that  he 
should  not  stand  where  the  horse  would  see  him.  When 
Bayard  rose  to  the  surface  he  stretched  his  neck  out  of 
the  water  and  looked  round  for  his  master,  but  saw  him 
not.  Then  he  sunk  to  the  bottom. 

Rinaldo  was  so  distressed  for  the  loss  of  Bayard  that 
he  made  a  vow  to  ride  no  horse  again  all  his  life  longv 
nor  to  bind  a  sword  to  his  side,  but  to  become  a  hermit. 
He  resolved  to  betake  himself  to  some  wild  wood,  but 
first  to  return  to  his  castle,  to  see  his  children,  and  to 
appoint  to  each  his  share  of  his  estate. 

So  he  took  leave  of  the  king  and  of  his  brothers, 
and  returned  to  Montalban,  and  his  brothers  remained 


822  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

with  the  king.  Rinaldo  called  his  children  to  him,  and 
he  made  his  eldest  born,  Aymeric,  a  knight,  and  made 
him  lord  of  his  castle  and  of  his  land.  He  gave  to  the 
rest  what  other  goods  he  had,  and  kissed  and  embraced 
them  all,  commended  them  to  God,  and  then  departed 
from  them  with  a  heavy  heart. 

He  had  not  travelled  far  when  he  entered  a  wood, 
and  there  met  with  a  hermit,  who  had  long  been  retired 
from  the  world.  Rinaldo  greeted  him,  and  the  hermit 
replied  courteously,  and  asked  him  who  he  was  and  what 
was  his  purpose.  Rinaldo  replied,  "Sir,  I  have  led  a 
sinful  life ;  many  deeds  of  violence  have  I  done,  and 
many  men  have  I  slain,  not  always  in  a  good  cause,  but 
often  under  the  impulse  of  my  own  headstrong  passions. 
I  have  also  been  the  cause  of  the  death  of  many  of  my 
friends,  who  took  my  part,  not  because  they  thought  me 
in  the  right,  but  only  for  love  of  me.  And  new  I  come 
to  make  confession  of  all  my  sins,  and  to  do  penance 
for  the  rest  of  my  life,  if  perhaps  the  mercy  of  God 
will  forgive  me/'  The  hermit  said,  "Friend,  I  perceive 
you  have  fallen  into  great  sins,  and  have  broken  the 
commandments  of  God,  but  his  mercy  is  greater  than 
your  sins ;  and  if  you  repent  from  your  heart,  and  lead 
a  new  life,  there  is  yet  hope  for  you  that  he  will  for- 
give you  what  is  past."  So  Rinaldo  was  comforted,  and 
said,  ''Master,  I  will  stay  with  you,  and  what  you  bid 
me  I  will  do."  The  hermit  replied,  "Roots  and  vegetables 
will  be  your  food;  shirt  or  shoes  you  may  not  wear; 
your  lot  must  be  poverty  and  want  if  you  stay  with  me." 
Rinaldo  replied,  "I  will  cheerfully  bear  all  this,  and 
more."  So  he  remained  three  whole  years  with  the 
hermit,  and  after  that  his  strength  failed,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  he  was  like  to  die. 

One  night  the  hermit  had  a  dream,  and  heard  a  voice 
from  heaven,  which  commanded  him  to  say  to  his  com- 
panion that  he  must  without  delay  go  to  the  Holy  Land, 
and  fight  against  the  heathen.  The  hermit,  when  he 
heard  that  voice,  was  glad,  and  calling  Rinaldo,  he  said, 
"Friend,  God's  angel  has  commanded  me  to  say  to  you 
that  you  must  without  delay  go  to  Jerusalem,  and  help 
our  fellow-Christians  in  their  struggle  with  the  Infidels." 


DEATH  OF  RINALDO  823 

Then  said  Rinaldo,  "Ah!  master,  how  can  I  do  that?  It 
is  over  three  years  since  I  made  a  vow  no  more  to  ride 
a  horse,  nor  take  a  sword  or  spear  in  my  hand."  The 
hermit  answered,  "Dear  friend,  obey  God,  and  do  what 
the  angel  commanded."  "I  will  do  so,"  said  Rinaldo, 
"and  pray  for  me,  my  master,  that  God  may  guide  me 
right."  Then  he  departed,  and  went  tc  the  seaside,  and 
took  ship  and  came  to  Tripoli  in  Syria. 

And  as  he  went  on  his  way  his  strength  returned  to 
him,  till  it  was  equal  to  what  it  was  in  his  best  days. 
And  though  he  never  mounted  a  horse,  nor  took  a  sword 
in  his  hand,  yet  with  his  pilgrim's  staff  he  did  good  serv- 
ice in  the  armies  of  the  Christians;  and  it  pleased  God 
that  he  escaped  unhurt,  though  he  was  present  in  many 
battles,  and  his  courage  inspired  the  men  with  the  same. 
At  last  a  truce  was  made  with  the  Saracens,  and  Rinaldo, 
now  old  and  infirm,  wishing  to  see  his  native  land  again 
before  he  died,  took  ship  and  sailed  for  France.  When  he 
arrived  he  shunned  to  go  to  the  resorts  of  the  great,  and 
preferred  to  live  among  the  humble  folk,  where  he  was 
unknown.  He  did  country  work,  and  lived  on  milk  and 
bread,  drank  water,  and  was  therewith  content.  While 
he  so  lived  he  heard  that  the  city  of  Cologne  was  the 
holiest  and  best  of  cities,  on  account  of  the  relics  and 
bodies  of  saints  who  had  there  poured  out  their  blood  for 
the  faith.  This  induced  him  to  betake  himself  thither. 
When  the  pious  hero  arrived  at  Cologne  he  went  to  the 
monastery  of  St.  Peter,  and  lived  a  holy  life,  occupied 
night  and  day  in  devotion.  It  so  happened  that  at  that 
time  in  the  next  town  to  Cologne  there  raged  a  dreadful 
pestilence.  Many  people  came  to  Rinaldo,  to  beg  him  to 
pray  for  them,  that  the  plague  might  be  stayed.  The  holy 
man  prayed  fervently,  and  besought  the  Lord  to  take 
away  the  plague  from  the  people,  and  his  prayer  was 
heard.  The  stroke  of  the  pestilence  was  arrested,  and  all 
the  people  thanked  the  holy  man  and  praised  God. 

Now  there  was  at  this  time  at  Cologne  a  bishop,  called 
Agilolphus,  who  was  a  wise  and  understanding  man,  who 
led  a  pure  and  secluded  life,  and  set  a  good  example  to 
others.  This  bishop  undertook  to  build  the  Church  of 
St.  Peter,  and  gave  notice  to  all  stonemasons  and  other 


824  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

workmen  round  about  to  come  to  Cologne,  where  they 
should  find  work  and  wages.  Among  others  came  Rinal- 
do ;  and  he  worked  among  the  laborers  and  did  more  than 
four  or  five  common  workmen.  When  they  went  to 
dinner  he  brought  stone  and  mortar  so  that  they  had 
enough  for  the  whole  day.  When  the  others  went  to  bed 
he  stretched  himself  out  on  the  stones.  He  ate  bread 
only,  and  drank  nothing  but  water ;  and  had  for  his  wages 
but  a  penny  a  day.  The  head  workman  asked  him  his 
name,  and  where  he  belonged.  He  would  not  tell,  but  said 
nothing  and  pursued  his  work.  They  called  him  St. 
Peter's  workman,  because  he  was  so  devoted  to  his  work. 

When  the  overseer  saw  the  diligence  of  this  holy  man 
he  chid  the  laziness  of  the  other  workmen,  and  said, 
"You  receive  more  pay  than  this  good  man,  but  do  not 
do  half  as  much  work."  For  this  reason  the  other  wort- 
men  hated  Rinaldo,  and  made  a  secret  agreement  to  kilt 
him.  They  knew  that  he  made  it  a  practice  to  go  every 
night  to  a  certain  church  to  pray  and  give  alms.  So  they 
agreed  to  lay  wait  for  him,  with  the  purpose  to  kill  him. 
When  he  came  to  the  spot,  they  seized  him,  and  beat  him 
over  the  head  till  he  was  dead.  Then  they  put  his  body 
into  a  sack,  and  stones  with  it,  and  cast  it  into  the  Rhine, 
in  the  hope  the  sack  would  sink  to  the  bottom,  and  be 
there  concealed.  But  God  willed  not  that  it  should  be 
so,  but  caused  the  sack  to  float  on  the  surface,  and  be 
thrown  upon  the  bank.  And  the  soul  of  the  holy  martyr 
was  carried  by  angels,  with  songs  of  praise,  up  to  the 
heavens. 

Now  at  that  time  the  people  of  Dortmund  had  become 
converted  to  the  Christian  faith ;  and  they  sent  to  the 
Bishop  of  Cologne,  and  desired  him  to  give  them  some 
of  the  holy  relics  that  are  in  such  abundance  in  that  city. 
So  the  Bishop  called  together  his  clergy  to  deliberate 
what  answer  they  should  give  to  this  request.  And  it 
was  determined  to  give  to  the  people  of  Dortmund  the 
body  of  the  holy  man  who  had  just  suffered  martyrdom. 

When  now  the  body  with  the  coffin  was  put  on  the 
cart,  the  cart  began  to  move  toward  Dortmund  without 
horses  or  help  of  men,  and  stopped  not  till  it  reached 
the  place  where  the  church  of  St.  Rinaldo  now  stands. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  825 

The  Bishop  and  his  clergy  followed  the  holy  man  to  do 
him  honor,  with  singing  of  hymns,  for  a  space  of  three 
miles.  And  St.  Rinaldo  has  ever  since  been  the  patron 
of  that  place,  and  many  wonderful  works  has  God  done 
through  him,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  legends. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX 

WHEN  Charlemagne  grew  old  he  felt  the  burden  of 
government  become  heavier  year  by  year,  till  at  last  he 
called  together  his  high  barons  and  peers  to  propose  to 
abdicate  the  empire  and  the  throne  of  France  in  favor 
of  his  sons,  Chariot  and  Lewis. 

The  Emperor  was  unreasonably  partial  to  his  eldest 
son ;  he  would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  the  barons 
and  peers  demand  Chariot  for  their  only  sovereign;  but 
that  prince  was  so  infamous,  for  his  falsehood  and 
cruelty,  that  the  council  strenuously  opposed  the  Em- 
peror's proposal  of  abdicating,  and  implored  him  to  con- 
tinue to  hold  a  sceptre  which  he  wielded  with  so  much 
glory. 

Amaury  of  Haute ville,  cousin  of  Ganelon,  and  now 
head  of  the  wicked  branch  of  the  house  of  Maganza, 
was  the  secret  partisan  of  Chariot,  whom  he  resembled 
in  his  loose  morals  and  bad  dispositions.  Amaury  nour- 
ished the  most  bitter  resentment  against  the  house  of 
Guienne,  of  which  the  former  Duke,  Sevinus,  had  often 
rebuked  his  misdeeds.  He  took  advantage  of  this  occa- 
sion to  do  an  injury  to  the  two  young  children  whom  the 
Duke  Sevinus  had  left  under  the  charge  of  the  Duchess 
Alice,  their  mother;  and  at  the  same  time,  to  advance 
his  interest  with  Chariot  by  increasing  his  wealth  and 
power.  With  this  view  he  suggested  to  the  prince  a  new 
idea. 

He  pretended  to  agree  with  the  opinion  of  the  barons  ; 
he  said  that  it  would  be  best  to  try  Chariot's  capacity  for 
government  by  giving  him  some  rich  provinces  before 
placing  him  upon  the  throne;  and  that  the  Emperor, 
without  depriving  himself  of  any  part  of  his  realm, 


826  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

might  give  Chariot  the  investiture  of  Guienne.  For  al- 
though seven  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  Sevinus, 
the  young  Duke,  his  son,  had  not  yet  repaired  to  the 
court  of  Charlemagne  to  render  the  homage  due  to  his 
lawful  sovereign. 

We  have  often  had  occasion  to  admire  the  justice  and 
wisdom  of  the  advice  which  on  all  occasions  the  Duke 
Namo  of  Bavaria  gave  to  Charlemagne,  and  he  now  dis- 
countenanced, with  indignation,  the  selfish  advice  of 
Amaury.  He  represented  to  the  Emperor  the  early  age 
of  the  children  of  Sevinus,  and  the  useful  and  glorious 
services  of  their  late  father,  and  proposed  to  Charle- 
magne to  send  two  knights  to  the  Duchess  at  Bordeaux, 
to  summon  her  two  sons  to  the  court  of  the  Emperor,  to 
pay  their  respects  and  render  homage. 

Charlemagne  approved  this  advice,  and  sent  two  chev- 
aliers to  demand  the  two  young  princes  of  their  mother. 
No  sooner  had  the  Duchess  learned  the  approach  of  the 
two  knights,  than  she  sent  distinguished  persons  to  re- 
ceive them ;  and  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  palace  she 
presented  herself  before  them,  with  her  elder  and 
younger  sons,  Huon  and  Girard. 

The  deputies,  delighted  with  the  honors  and  caresses 
they  received,  accompanied  with  rich  presents,  left  Bor- 
deaux with  regret  and  on  their  return  represented  to 
Charlemagne  that  the  young  Duke  Huon  seemed  born 
to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  his  brave  father,  informing 
him  that  in  three  months  the  young  princes  of  Guienne 
would  present  themselves  at  his  court. 

The  Duchess  employed  the  short  interval  in  giving 
her  sons  her  last  instructions.  Huon  received  them  in 
his  heart,  and  Girard  gave  as  much  heed  to  them  as  could 
be  expected  from  one  so  young. 

The  preparations  for  their  departure  having  been  made, 
the  Duchess  embraced  them  tenderly,  commending  them 
to  the  care  of  Heaven,  and  charged  them  to  call,  on  their 
way,  at  the  celebrated  monastery  of  Cluny,  to  visit  the 
Abbot,  the  brother  of  their  father.  This  Abbot,  worthy 
of  his  high  dignity,  had  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  do- 
ing good,  setting  an  example  of  every  excellence,  and 
making  virtue  attractive  by  his  example. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  827 

He  received  his  nephews  with  the  greatest  magnifi- 
cence ;  and,  aware  how  useful  his  presence  might  be 
to  them  with  Charlemagne,  whose  valued  counsellor  he 
was,  he  took  with  them  the  road  to  Paris. 

When  Amaury  learned  what  reception  the  two  depu- 
ties of  Charlemagne  had  received  at  Bordeaux,  and  the 
arrangements  made  for  the  visit  of  the  young  princes 
to  the  Emperor's  court,  he  suggested  to  Chariot  to  give 
him  a  troop  of  his  guards,  with  which  he  proposed  to 
lay  wait  for  the  young  men  in  the  wood  of  Montlery, 
put  them  to  death,  and  thereby  give  the  prince  Chariot 
possession  of  the  duchy  of  Guienne. 

A  plan  of  treachery  and  violence  agreed  but  too  well 
with  Chariot's  disposition.  He  not  only  adopted  the 
suggestion  of  Amaury,  but  insisted  upon  taking  a  part 
in  it.  They  went  out  secretly,  by  night,  followed  by  a 
great  number  of  attendants,  all  armed  in  black,  to  lie  in 
ambuscade  in  the  wood  where  the  brothers  were  to 
pass. 

Girard,  the  younger  of  the  two,  having  amused  him- 
self as  he  rode  by  flying  his  hawk  at  such  game  as  pre- 
sented itself,  had  ridden  in  advance  of  his  brother  and 
the  Abbot  of  Cluny.  Chariot,  who  saw  him  coming, 
alone  and  unarmed,  went  forth  to  meet  him,  sought  a 
quarrel  with  him,  and  threw  him  from  his  horse  with  a 
stroke  of  his  lance.  Girard  uttered  a  cry  as  he  fell; 
Huon  heard  it,  and  flew  to  his  defence,  with  no  other 
weapon  than  his  sword.  He  came  up  with  him,  and 
saw  the  blood  flowing  from  his  wound.  "What  has  this 
child  done  to  you,  wretch!"  he  exclaimed  to  Chariot. 
"How  cowardly  to  attack  him  when  unprepared  to  de- 
fend himself !"  "By  my  faith,"  said  Chariot,  "I  mean 
to  do  the  same  by  you.  Know  that  I  am  the  son  of 
Duke  Thierry  of  Ardennes,  from  whom  your  father, 
Sevinus,  took  three  castles ;  I  have  sworn  to  avenge  him, 
and  I  defy  you."  "Coward,"  answered  Huon,  "I  know 
well  the  baseness  that  dwells  in  your  race ;  worthy  son 
of  Thierry,  use  the  advantage  that  your  armor  gives 
you ;  but  know  that  I  fear  you  not."  At  these  words 
Chariot  had  the  wickedness  to  put  his  lance  in  rest,  and 
to  run  upon  Huon,  who  had  barely  time  to  wrap  his 


828  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

arm  in  his  mantle.  With  this  feeble  buckler  he  received 
the  thrust  of  the  lance.  It  penetrated  the  mantle,  but 
missed  his  body.  Then,  rising  upon  his  stirrups,  Sir 
Huon  struck  Chariot  so  terrible  a  blow  with  his  sword 
that  the  helmet  was  cleft  asunder,  and  his  head  too. 
The  dastardly  prince  fell  dead  upon  the  ground. 

Huon  now  perceived  that  the  wood  was  full  of  armed 
men.  He  called  the  men  of  his  suite,  and  they  hastily 
put  themselves  in  order,  but  nobody  issued  from  the 
wood  to  attack  him.  Amaury,  who  saw  Chariot's  fall, 
had  no  desire  to  compromit  himself;  and,  feeling  sure 
that  Charlemagne  would  avenge  the  death  of  his  son, 
he  saw  no  occasion  for  his  doing  anything  more  at  pres- 
ent. He  left  Huon  and  the  Abbot  of  Cluny  to  bind 
up  the  wound  of  Girard,  and,  having  seen  them  depart 
and  resume  their  way  to  Paris,  he  took  up  the  body  of 
Chariot,  and,  placing  it  across  a  horse,  had  it  carried  to 
Paris,  where  he  arrived  four  hours  after  Huon. 

The  Abbot  of  Cluny  presented  his  nephew  to  Charle- 
magne, but  Huon  refrained  from  paying  his  obeisance, 
complaining  grievously  of  the  ambush  which  had  been 
set  for  him,  which  he  said  could  not  have  been  without 
the  Emperor's  permission.  Charlemagne,  surprised  at  a 
charge  which  his  magnanimous  soul  was  incapable  of 
meriting,  asked  eagerly  of  the  Abbot  what  were  the 
grounds  of  the  complaints  of  his  nephew.  The  Abbot 
told  him  faithfully  all  that  had  happened,  informing  him 
that  a  coward  knight,  who  called  himself  the  son  of 
Thierry  of  Ardennes,  had  wounded  Girard,  and  run  upon 
Huon,  who  was  unarmed;  but  by  his  force  and  valor 
he  had  overcome  the  traitor,  and  left  him  dead  upon 
the  plain. 

Charlemagne  indignantly  disavowed  any  connection 
with  the  action  of  the  infamous  Thierry,  congratulated 
the  young  Duke  upon  his  victory,  himself  conducted  the 
two  brothers  to  a  rich  apartment,  stayed  to  see  the  first 
dressing  applied  to  the  wound  of  Girard,  and  left  the 
brothers  in  charge  of  Duke  Namo  of  Bavaria,  who,  hav- 
ing been  a  companion  in  arms  of  the  Duke  Sevinus, 
regarded  the  young  men  almost  as  if  they  were  his  own 
sons. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  829 

Charlemagne  had  hardly  quitted  them  when,  return- 
ing to  his  chamber,  he  heard  cries,  and  saw  through 
the  window  a  party  of  armed  men  just  arrived.  He 
recognized  Amaury,  who  bore  a  dead  knight  stretched 
across  a  horse;  and  the  name  of  Chariot  was  heard 
among  the  exclamations  of  the  people  assembled  in  the 
court-yard. 

Charles's  partiality  for  this  unworthy  son  was  one  of 
his  weaknesses.  He  descended  in  trepidation  to  the 
court-yard,  ran  to  Amaury,  and  uttered  a  cry  of  grief 
on  recognizing  Chariot.  "It  is  Huon  of  Bordeaux,"  said 
the  traitor  Amaury,  "who  has  massacred  your  son  before 
it  was  in  my  power  to  defend  him."  Charlemagne, 
furious  at  these  words,  seized  a  sword,  and  flew  to  the 
apartment  of  the  two  brothers  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart 
of  the  murderer  of  his  son.  Duke  Namo  stopped  his 
hand  for  an  instant,  while  Charles  told  him  the  crime 
of  which  Huon  was  accused.  "He  is  a  peer  of  the 
realm,"  said  Namo,  "and  if  he  is  guilty,  is  he  not  here 
in  your  power,  and  are  not  we  peers  the  proper  judges 
to  condemn  him  to  death  ?  Let  not  your  hand  be  stained 
with  his  blood."  The  Emperor,  calmed  by  the  wisdom 
of  Duke  Namo,  summoned  Amaury  to  his  presence.  The 
peers  assembled  to  hear  his  testimony,  and  the  traitor 
accused  Huon  of  Bordeaux  of  having  struck  the  fatal 
blow  without  allowing  Chariot  an  opportunity  to  de- 
fend himself,  and  though  he  knew  that  his  opponent  was 
the  Emperor's  eldest  son. 

The  Abbot  of  Cluny,  indignant  at  the  false  accusa- 
tion of  Amaury,  advanced,  and  said,  "By  Saint  Bene- 
dict, sire,  the  traitor  lies  in  his  throat.  If  my  nephew 
has  slain  Chariot  it  was  in  his  own  defence,  and  after 
having  seen  his  brother  wounded  by  him,  and  also  in 
ignorance  that  his  adversary  was  the  prince.  Though 
I  am  a  son  of  the  Church,"  added  the  good  Abbot,  "I 
forget  not  that  I  am  a  knight  by  birth.  I  offer  to  prove 
with  my  body  the  lie  upon  Amaury,  if  he  dares  sustain 
it,  and  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  doing  a  better  work  to 
punish  a  disloyal  traitor,  than  to  sing  lauds  and  matins." 
Huon  to  this  time  had  kept  silent,  amazed  at  the  black 
calumny  of  Amaury;  but  now  he  stepped  forth,  and, 


830  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

addressing  Amaury,  said:  "Traitor!  darest  thou  main- 
tain in  arms  the  lie  thou  hast  uttered?"  Amaury,  a 
knight  of  great  prowess,  despising  the  youth  and  slight 
figure  of  Huon,  hesitated  not  to  offer  his  glove,  which 
Huon  seized;  then,  turning  again  to  the  peers,  he  said: 
"I  pray  you  let  the  combat  be  allowed  me,  for  never 
was  there  a  more  legitimate  cause."  The  Duke  Namo 
and  the  rest,  deciding  that  the  question  should  be  re- 
mitted to  the  judgment  of  Heaven,  the  combat  was 
ordained,  to  which  Charlemagne  unwillingly  consented. 
The  young  Duke  was  restored  to  the  charge  of  Duke 
Namo,  who  the  next  morning  invested  him  with  the 
honors  of  knighthood,  and  gave  him  armor  of  proof, 
with  a  white  shield.  The  Abbot  of  Cluny,  delighted  to 
find  in  his  nephew  sentiments  worthy  of  his  birth,  em- 
braced him,  gave  him  his  blessing,  and  hastened  to  the 
church  of  St.  Germains  to  pray  for  him,  while  the  officers 
of  the  king  prepared  the  lists  for  the  combat. 

The  battle  was  long  and  obstinate.  The  address  and 
agility  of  Huon  enabled  him  to  avoid  the  terrible  blows 
which  the  ferocious  Amaury  aimed  at  him.  But  Huon 
had  more  than  once  drawn  blood  from  his  antagonist. 
The  effect  began  to  be  perceived  in  the  failing  strength 
of  the  traitor;  at  last  he  threw  himself  from  his  horse, 
and  kneeling,  begged  for  mercy.  "Spare  me,"  he  said, 
"and  I  will  confess  all.  Aid  me  to  rise,  and  lead  me 
to  Charlemagne."  The  brave  and  loyal  Huon,  at  these 
words,  put  his  sword  under  his  left  arm,  and  stretched 
out  his  right  to  raise  the  prostrate  man,  who  seized  the 
opportunity  to  give  him  a  thrust  in  the  side.  The  hauberk 
of  Huon  resisted  the  blow,  and  he  was  wounded  but 
slightly.  Transported  with  rage  at  this  act  of  baseness, 
he  forgot  how  necessary  for  his  complete  acquittal  the 
confession  of  Amaury  was,  and  without  delay  dealt  him 
the  fatal  blow. 

Duke  Namo  and  the  other  peers  approached,  had  the 
body  of  Amaury  dragged  forth  from  the  lists,  and  con- 
ducted Huon  to  Charlemagne.  The  Emperor,  however, 
listening  to  nothing  but  his  resentment  and  grief  for  the 
death  of  his  son,  refused  to  be  satisfied;  and  under  the 
plea  that  Huon  had  not  succeeded  in  making  his  accuser 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  831 

retract  his  charge  seemed  resolved  to  confiscate  his  es- 
tates and  to  banish  him  forever  from  France.  It  was 
not  till  after  long  entreaties  on  the  part  of  Duke  Namo 
and  the  rest  that  he  consented  to  grant  Huon  his  pardon, 
under  conditions  which  he  should  impose. 

Huon  approached,  and  knelt  before  the  Emperor,  ren- 
dered his  homage,  and  cried  him  mercy  for  the  involun- 
tary killing  of  his  son.  Charlemagne  would  not  receive 
the  hands  of  Huon  in  his  own,  but  touched  him  with 
his  sceptre,  saying,  "I  receive  thy  homage,  and  pardon 
thee  the  death  of  my  son,  but  only  on  one  condition. 
You  shall  go  immediately  to  the  court  of  the  Sultan 
Gaudisso ;  you  shall  present  yourself  before  him  as  he 
sits  at  meat ;  you  shall  cut  off  the  head  of  the  most 
illustrious  guest  whom  you  shall  find  sitting  nearest  to 
him ;  you  shall  kiss  three  times  on  the  mouth  the  fair 
princess,  his  daughter,  and  you  shall  demand  of  the 
Sultan,  as  token  of  tribute  to  me,  a  handful  of  the  white 
hair  of  his  beard,  and  four  grinders  from  his  mouth." 

These  conditions  caused  a  murmur  from  all  the  as- 
sembly. "What  1"  said  the  Abbot  of  Cluny ;  "slaughter 
a  Saracen  prince  without  first  offering  him  baptism?" 
"The  second  condition  is  not  so  hard,"  said  the  young 
peers,  "but  the  demand  that  Huon  is  bound  to  make  of 
the  old  Sultan  is  very  uncivil,  and  will  be  hard  to 
obtain." 

The  Emperor's  obstinacy  when  he  had  once  resolved 
upon  a  thing  is  well  known.  To  the  courage  of  Huon 
nothing  seemed  impossible.  "I  accept  the  conditions," 
said  he,  silencing  the  intercessions  of  the  old  Duke  of 
Bavaria;  "my  liege,  I  accept  my  pardon  at  this  price. 
I  go  to  execute  your  commands,  as  your  vassal  and  a 
peer  of  France." 

The  Duke  Namo  and  Abbot  of  Cluny,  being  unable 
to  obtain  any  relaxation  of  the  sentence  passed  by  Charle- 
magne, led  forth  the  young  Duke,  who  determined  to 
set  out  at  once  on  his  expedition.  All  that  the  good 
Abbot  could  obtain  of  him  was,  that  he  should  prepare 
for  this  perilous  undertaking  by  going  first  to  Rome, 
to  pay  his  homage  to  the  Pope,  who  was  the  brother  of 
the  Duchess  Alice,  Huon's  mother,  and  from  him  de- 


832  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

mand  absolution  and  his  blessing.     Huon  promised  it, 
and  forthwith  set  out  on  his  way  to  Rome. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  (Continued) 

HUON,  having  traversed  the  Apennines  and  Italy, 
arrived  at  the  environs  of  Rome,  where,  laying  aside  his 
armor,  he  assumed  the  dress  of  a  pilgrim.  In  this  attire 
he  presented  himself  before  the  Pope,  and  not  till  after 
he  had  made  a  full  confession  of  his  sins  did  he  announce 
himself  as  his  nephew.  "Ah!  my  dear  nephew,"  ex- 
claimed the  Holy  Father,  "what  harder  penance  could  I 
impose  than  the  Emperor  has  already  done  ?  Go  in  peace, 
my  son,"  he  added,  absolving  him,  "I  go  to  intercede  for 
you  with  the  Most  High."  Then  he  led  his  nephew  into 
his  palace,  and  introduced  him  to  all  the  Cardinals  and 
Princes  of  Rome  as  the  Duke  of  Guienne,  son  of  the 
Duchess  Alice,  his  sister. 

Huon,  at  setting  out,  had  made  a  vow  not  to  stop  more 
than  three  days  in  a  place.  The  Holy  Father  took  ad- 
vantage of  this  time  to  inspire  him  with  zeal  for  the  glory 
of  Christianity,  and  with  confidence  in  the  protection  of 
the  Most  High.  He  advised  him  to  embark  for  Palestine, 
to  visit  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  to  depart  thence  for  the 
interior  of  Asia. 

Loaded  with  the  blessings  of  the  Holy  Father,  Huon, 
obeying  his  counsels,  embarked  for  Palestine,  arrived, 
and  visited  with  the  greatest  reverence  the  holy  places. 
He  then  departed,  and  took  his  way  toward  the  east. 

But,  ignorant  of  the  country  and  of  the  language,  he 
lost  himself  in  a  forest,  and  remained  three  days  without 
seeing  a  human  creature,  living  on  honey  and  wild  fruits 
which  he  found  on  the  trees.  The  third  day,  seeking  a 
passage  through  a  rocky  defile,  he  beheld  a  man  in  tattered 
clothing,  whose  beard  and  hair  covered  his  breast  and 
shoulders.  This  man  stopped  on  seeing  him,  observed 
him,  and  recognized  the  arms  and  bearing  of  a  French 
knight.  He  immediately  approached,  and  exclaimed,  in 
the  language  of  the  South  of  France,  "God  be  praised  1 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  833 

Do  I  indeed  behold  a  chevalier  of  my  own  country,  after 
fifteen  years  passed  in  this  desert  without  seeing  the 
face  of  a  fellow-countryman?" 

Huon,  to  gratify  him  still  more,  unlaced  his  helmet, 
and  came  towards  him  with  a  smiling  countenance.  The 
other  regarded  him  with  more  surprise  than  at  first. 
"Good  Heaven!"  he  exclaimed,  "was  there  ever  such  a 
resemblance?  Ah,  noble  sir,"  he  added,  "tell  me,  I  be- 
seech you,  of  what  country  and  race  you  come?"  "I 
require,"  replied  Huon,  "before  telling  you  mine,  that 
you  first  reveal  your  own ;  let  it  suffice  you  at  present  to 
know  that  I  am  a  Christian,  and  that  in  Guienne  I  was 
born."  "Ah !  Heaven  grant  that  my  eyes  and  my  heart 
do  not  deceive  me,"  exclaimed  the  unknown ;  "my  name 
is  Sherasmin ;  I  am  brother  to  Guire,  the  Mayor  of  Bor- 
deaux. I  was  taken  prisoner  in  the  battle  where  my 
dear  and  illustrious  master,  Sevinus,  lost  his  life.  For 
three  years  I  endured  the  miseries  of  slavery ;  at  length 
I  broke  my  chains  and  escaped  to  this  desert,  where  I 
have  sustained  myself  in  solitude  ever  since.  Your  fea- 
tures recall  to  me  my  beloved  sovereign,  in  whose  service 
I  was  from  my  infancy  till  his  death."  Huon  made  no 
reply  but  by  embracing  the  old  man,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  Then  Sherasmin  learned  that  his  arms  enfolded 
the  son  of  the  Duke  Sevinus.  He  led  him  to  his  cabin, 
and  spread  before  him  the  dry  fruits  and  honey  which 
formed  his  only  aliment. 

lluon  recounted  his  adventures  to  Sherasmin,  who 
was  moved  to  tears  at  the  recital.  He  then  consulted 
him  on  means  of  conducting  his  enterprise.  Sherasmin 
hesitated  not  to  confess  that  success  seemed  impossible ; 
nevertheless  he  swore  a  solemn  oath  never  to  abandon 
him.  The  Saracen  language,  which  he  was  master  of, 
would  be  serviceable  to  them  when  they  should  leave  the 
desert,  and  mingle  with  men. 

They  took  the  route  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  entered 
Arabia.  Their  way  lay  through  a  region  which  She- 
rasmin described  as  full  of  terrors.  It  was  inhabited 
by  Oberon,  King  of  the  Fairies,  who  made  captive  such 
knights  as  were  rash  enough  to  penetrate  into  it,  and 
transformed  them  into  Hobgoblins.  It  was  possible  to 


834  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

avoid  this  district  at  the  expense  of  somewhat  lengthen- 
ing their  route;  but  no  dangers  could  deter  Huon  of 
Bordeaux;  and  the  brave  Sherasmin,  who  had  now 
resumed  the  armor  of  a  knight,  reluctantly  consented  to 
share  with  him  the  dangers  of  the  shorter  route. 

They  entered  a  wood,  and  arrived  at  a  spot  whence 
alleys  branched  off  in  various  directions.  One  of  them 
seemed  to  be  terminated  by  a  superb  palace,  whose  gilded 
roofs  were  adorned  with  brilliant  weathercocks  covered 
with  diamonds.  A  superb  chariot  issued  from  the  gate 
of  the  palace,  and  drove  toward  Huon  and  his  com- 
panion, as  if  to  meet  them  half-way.  The  prince  saw 
no  one  in  the  chariot  but  a  child  apparently  about  five 
years  old,  very  beautiful,  and  clad  in  a  robe  which  glit- 
tered with  precious  stones.  At  the  sight  of  him,  Sheras- 
min's  terror  was  extreme.  He  seized  the  reins  of  Huon's 
horse,  and  turned  him  about,  hurrying  the  prince  away, 
and  assuring  him  that  they  were  lost  if  they  stopped  to 
parley  with  the  mischievous  dwarf,  who,  though  he  ap- 
peared a  child,  was  full  of  years  and  of  treachery.  Huon 
was  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  the  beautiful  dwarf,  whose 
aspect  had  nothing  in  it  to  alarm ;  yet  he  followed  his 
friend,  who  urged  on  his  horse  with  all  possible  speed. 
Presently  a  storm  began  to  roar  through  the  forest,  the 
daylight  grew  dim,  and  they  found  their  way  with  diffi- 
culty. From  time  to  time  they  seemed  to  hear  an  infan- 
tine voice,  which  said,  "Stop,  Duke  Huon ;  listen  to  me : 
it  is  in  vain  you  fly  me  1" 

Sherasmin  only  fled  the  faster,  and  stopped  not  until 
he  had  reached  the  gate  of  a  monastery  of  monks  and 
nuns,  the  two  communities  of  which  were  assembled  at 
that  time  in  a  religious  procession.  Sherasmin,  feeling 
safe  from  the  malice  of  the  dwarf  in  the  presence  of 
so  many  holy  persons  and  the  sacred  banners,  stopped 
to  ask  an  asylum,  and  made  Huon  dismount  also.  But 
at  that  moment  they  were  joined  by  the  dwarf,  who  blew 
a  blast  upon  an  ivory  horn  which  hung  from  his  neck. 
Immediately  the  good  Sherasmin,  in  spite  of  himself, 
began  to  dance  like  a  young  collegian,  and  seizing  the 
hand  of  an  aged  nun,  who  felt  as  if  it  would  be  her 
death,  they  footed  it  briskly  over  the  grass,  and  were 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  835 

imitated  by  all  the  other  monks  and  nuns,  mingled  to- 
gether, forming  the  strangest  dancing-party  ever  beheld. 
Huron  alone  felt  no  disposition  to  dance;  but  he  came 
near  dying  of  laughter  at  seeing  the  ridiculous  postures 
and  leaps  of  the  others. 

The  dwarf,  approaching  Iluon,  said,  in  a  sweet  voice, 
and  in  Huon's  own  language,  "Duke  of  Guienne,  why  do 
you  shun  me?  I  conjure  you,  in  Heaven's  name,  speak 
to  me/'  Huon,  hearing  himself  addressed  in  this  serious 
manner,  and  knowing  that  no  evil  spirit  would  dare  to 
use  the  holy  name  in  aid  of  his  schemes,  replied,  "Sir, 
whoever  you  are,  I  am  ready  to  hear  and  answer  you." 
"Huon,  my  friend/'  continued  the  dwarf,  "I  always 
loved  your  race,  and  you  have  been  dear  to  me  ever  since 
your  birth.  The  gracious  state  of  conscience  in  which 
you  were  when  you  entered  my  wood  has  protected  you 
from  all  enchantments,  even  if  I  had  intended  to  prac- 
tise any  upon  you.  If  these  monks,  these  nuns,  and 
even  your  friend  Sherasmin,  had  had  a  conscience  as  pure 
as  yours,  my  horn  would  not  have  set  them  dancing; 
but  where  is  the  monk  or  the  nun  who  can  always  be 
deaf  to  the  voice  of  the  tempter,  and  Sherasmin  in  the 
desert  has  often  doubted  the  power  of  Providence." 

At  these  words  Huon  saw  the  dancers  overcome  with 
exertion.  He  begged  mercy  for  them,  the  dwarf  granted 
it,  and  the  effect  of  the  horn  ceased  at  once;  the  nuns 
got  rid  of  their  partners,  smoothed  their  dresses,  and 
hastened  to  resume  their  places  in  the  procession.  She- 
rasmin, overcome  with  heat,  panting,  and  unable  to  stand 
on  his  legs,  threw  himself  upon  the  grass,  and  began, 
"Did  not  I  tell  you" — He  was  going  on  in  an  angry  tone, 
but  the  dwarf,  approaching,  said,  "Sherasmin,  why  have 
you  murmured  against  Providence?  Why  have  you 
thought  evil  of  me  ?  You  deserved  this  light  punishment ; 
but  I  know  you  to  be  good  and  loyal ;  I  mean  to  show 
myself  your  friend,  as  you  shall  soon  see."  At  these 
words  he  presented  him  a  rich  goblet.  "Make  the  sign 
of  the  cross  on  this  cup,"  said  he,  "and  then  believe  that 
I  hold  my  power  from  the  God  you  adore,  whose  faith- 
ful servant  I  am,  as  well  as  you."  Sherasmin  obeyed, 
and  on  the  instant  the  cup  was  filled  with  delicious  wine, 


836  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

a  draught  of  which  restored  vigor  to  his  limbs,  and  made 
him  feel  young  again.  Overcome  with  gratitude,  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  but  the  dwarf  raised  him, 
and  bade  him  sit  beside  him,  and  thus  commenced  his 
history : 

"Julius  Caesar,  going  by  sea  to  join  his  army,  was 
driven  by  a  storm  to  take  shelter  in  the  island  of  Celea, 
where  dwelt  the  fairy  Glorianda.  From  this  renowned 
pair  I  draw  my  birth.  I  am  the  inheritor  of  that  which 
was  most  admirable  in  each  of  my  parents :  my  father 's 
heroic  qualities,  arid  my  mother's  beauty  and  magic  art. 
But  a  malicious  sister  of  my  mother's,  in  revenge  for 
some  slight  offence,  touched  me  with  her  wand  when  I 
was  only  five  years  old,  and  forbade  me  to  grow  any  big- 
ger ;  and  my  mother,  with  all  her  power,  was  unable 
to  annul  the  sentence.  I  have  thus  continued  infantile 
in  appearance,  though  full  of  years  and  experience.  The 
power  which  I  derive  from  my  mother  I  use  sometimes 
for  my  own  diversion,  but  always  to  promote  justice  and 
to  reward  virtue.  I  am  able  and  willing  to  assist  you, 
Duke  of  Guienne,  for  I  know  the  errand  on  which  you 
come  hither.  I  presage  for  you,  if  you  follow  my  coun- 
sels, complete  success ;  and  the  beautiful  Clarimunda  for 
a  wife." 

When  he  had  thus  spoken  he  presented  to  Huon  the 
precious  and  useful  cup,  which  had  the  faculty  of  filling 
itself  when  a  good  man  took  it  in  his  hand.  He  gave 
him  also  his  beautiful  horn  of  ivory,  saying  to  him, 
"Huon,  when  you  sound  this  gently,  you  will  make  the 
hearers  dance,  as  you  have  seen ;  but  if  you  sound  it 
forcibly,  fear  not  that  I  shall  hear  it,  though  at  a  hundred 
leagues'  distance,  and  will  fly  to  your  relief;  but  be 
careful  not  to  sound  it  in  that  way,  unless  upon  the  most 
urgent  occasion." 

Oberon  directed  Huon  what  course  he  should  take  to 
reach  the  country  of  the  Sultan  Gaudisso.  "You  will  en- 
counter great  perils,"  said  he,  "before  arriving  there, 
and  I  fear  me,"  he  added,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "that 
you  will  not  in  everything  obey  my  directions,  and  in 
that  case  you  will  suffer  much  calamity."  Then  he  em- 
braced Huon  and  Sherasmin,  and  left  them. 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  837 

Huon  and  his  follower  travelled  many  days  through 
the  desert  before  they  reached  any  inhabited  place,  and 
all  this  while  the  wonderful  cup  sustained  them,  furnish- 
ing them  not  only  wine,  but  food  also.  At  last  they 
came  to  a  great  city.  As  day  was  declining,  they  entered 
its  suburbs,  and  Sherasmin,  who  spoke  the  Saracen  lan- 
guage perfectly,  inquired  for  an  inn  where  they  could  pass 
the  night.  A  person  who  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal inhabitants,  seeing  two  strangers  of  respectable 
appearance  making  this  inquiry,  stepped  forward  and 
begged  them  to  accept  the  shelter  of  his  mansion.  They 
entered,  and  their  host  did  the  honors  of  his  abode  with 
a  politeness  which  they  were  astonished  to  see  in  a 
Saracen.  He  had  them  served  with  coffee  and  sherbet, 
and  all  was  conducted  with  great  decorum,  till  one  of 
the  servants  awkwardly  overturned  a  cup  of  hot  coffee 
on  the  host's  legs,  when  he  started  up,  exclaiming  in  very 
good  Gascon,  "Blood  and  thunder!  you  blockhead,  you 
deserve  to  be  thrown  over  the  mosque !" 

Huon  could  not  help  laughing  to  see  the  vivacity  and 
the  language  of  his  country  thus  break  out  unawares. 
The  host,  who  had  no  idea  that  his  guests  understood 
his  words,  was  astonished  when  Huon  addressed  him 
in  the  dialect  of  his  country.  Immediately  confidence  was 
established  between  them ;  especially  when  the  domestics 
had  retired.  The  host,  seeing  that  he  was  discovered, 
and  that  the  two  pretended  Saracens  were  from  the  bor- 
ders of  the  Garonne,  embraced  them,  and  disclosed  that 
he  was  a  Christian.  Huon,  who  had  learned  prudence 
from  the  advice  of  Oberon,  to  test  his  host's  sincerity, 
drew  from  his  robe  the  cup  which  the  Fairy-king  had 
given  him,  and  presented  it  empty  to  the  host.  "A  fair 
cup,"  said  he,  "but  I  should  like  it  better  if  it  was  full." 
Immediately  it  was  so.  The  host,  astonished,  dared  not 
put  it  to  his  lips.  "Drink  boldly,  my  dear  fellow-country- 
man," said  Huon;  "your  truth  is  proved  by  this  cup, 
which  only  fills  itself  in  the  hands  of  an  honest  man." 
The  host  did  not  hesitate  longer;  the  cup  passed  freely 
from  hand  to  hand ;  their  mutual  cordiality  increased  as 
it  passed,  and  each  recounted  his  adventures.  Those  of 
Huon  redoubled  his  host's  respect;  for  he  recognized  in 


838  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

him  his  legitimate  sovereign:  while  the  host's  narrative 
was  in  these  words : 

"My  name  is  Floriac;  this  great  and  strong  city,  you 
will  hear  with  surprise  and  grief,  is  governed  by  a  brother 
of  Duke  Sevinus,  and  your  uncle.  You  have  no  doubt 
heard  that  a  young  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Guienne  was 
stolen  away  from  the  sea-shore,  with  his  companions,  by 
some  corsairs.  I  was  then  his  page,  and  we  were  carried 
by  those  corsairs  to  Barbary,  where  we  were  sold  for 
slaves.  The  Barbary  prince  sent  us  as  part  of  the  tribute 
which  he  yearly  paid  to  his  sovereign,  the  Sultan  Gau- 
disso.  Your  uncle,  who  had  been  somewhat  puffed  up  by 
the  flattery  of  his  attendants,  thought  to  increase  his 
importance  with  his  new  master  by  telling  him  his  rank. 
The  Sultan,  who,  like  a  true  Mussulman,  detested  all 
Christian  princes,  exerted  himself  from  that  moment  to 
bring  him  over  to  the  Saracen  faith.  He  succeeded  but 
too  well.  Your  uncle,  seduced  by  the  arts  of  the  Santons, 
and  by  the  pleasures  and  indulgences  which  the  Sultan 
allowed  him,  committed  the  horrid  crime  of  apostasy; 
he  renounced  his  baptism,  and  embraced  Mahometanism. 
Gaudisso  then  loaded  him  with  honors,  made  him  espouse 
one  of  his  nieces,  and  sent  him  to  reign  over  this  city 
and  adjoining  country.  Your  uncle  preserved  for  me 
the  same  friendship  which  he  had  had  when  a  boy ;  but 
all  his  caresses  and  efforts  could  not  make  me  renounce 
my  faith.  Perhaps  he  respected  me  in  his  heart  for  my 
resistance  to  his  persuasions,  perhaps  he  had  hopes  of 
inducing  me  in  time  to  imitate  him.  He  made  me  accom- 
pany him  to  this  city,  of  which  he  was  master,  he  gave 
me  his  confidence,  and  permits  me  to  keep  in  my  service 
some  Christians,  whom  I  protect  for  the  sake  of  their 
faith." 

"Ah !"  exclaimed  Huon,  "take  me  to  this  guilty  uncle. 
A  prince  of  the  house  of  Guienne,  must  he  not 
blush  at  the  cowardly  abandonment  of  the  faith  of 
his  fathers?" 

"Alasi"  replied  Floriac,  "I  fear  he  will  neither  be 
sensible  of  shame  at  your  reproaches,  nor  of  pleasure 
at  the  sight  of  a  nephew  so  worthy  of  his  lineage.  Bruti- 
fied  by  sensuality,  jealous  of  his  power,  which  he  often 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  839 

exercises  with  cruelty,  he  will  more  probably  restrain 
you  by  force  or  put  you  to  death." 

"Be  it  so,"  said  the  brave  and  fervent  Huon,  "I  could 
not  die  in  a  better  cause ;  and  I  demand  of  you  to  con- 
duct me  to  him  to-morrow,  after  having  told  him  of  my 
arrival  and  my  birth."  Floriac  still  objected,  but  Huon 
would  take  no  denial,  and  he  promised  obedience. 

Next  morning  Floriac  waited  upon  the  Governor  and 
told  him  of  the  arrival  of  his  nephew,  Huon  of  Bordeaux ; 
and  of  the  intention  of  the  prince  to  present  himself  at  his 
court  that  very  day.  The  Governor,  surprised,  did  not 
immediately  answer ;  though  he  at  once  made  up  his  mind 
what  to  do.  He  knew  that  Floriac  loved  Christians  and 
the  princes  of  his  native  land  too  well  to  aid  in  any 
treason  to  one  of  them ;  he  therefore  feigned  great  plea- 
sure at  hearing  of  the  arrival  of  the  eldest  born  of  his 
family  at  his  court.  He  immediately  sent  Floriac  to  find 
him;  he  caused  his  palace  to  be  put  in  festal  array,  his 
divan  to  be  assembled,  and  after  giving  some  secret 
orders,  went  himself  to  meet  his  nephew,  whom  he  intro- 
duced under  his  proper  name  and  title  to  all  the  great 
officers  of  his  court. 

Huon  burned  with  indignation  at  seeing  his  uncle  with 
forehead  encircled  with  a  rich  turban,  surmounted  with 
a  crescent  of  precious  stones.  His  natural  candor  made 
him  receive  with  pain  the  embraces  which  the  treacher- 
ous Governor  lavished  upon  him.  Meanwhile  the  hope 
of  finding  a  suitable  moment  to  reproach  him  for  his 
apostasy  made  him  submit  to  those  honors  which  his 
uncle  caused  to  be  rendered  to  him.  The  Governor 
evaded  with  address  the  chance  of  being  alone  with 
Huon  and  spent  all  the  morning  in  taking  him  through 
his  gardens  and  palace.  At  last,  when  the  hour  of  dinner 
approached,  and  the  Governor  took  him  by  the  hand  to 
lead  him  into  the  dining-hall,  Huon  seized  the  opportunity 
and  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  "O  my  uncle !  O  Prince, 
brother  of  the  Duke  Sevinus !  in  what  condition  have  I 
the  grief  and  shame  of  seeing  you !"  The  Governor  pre- 
tended to  be  moved,  pressed  his  hand,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "Silence !  my  dear  nephew ;  to-morrow  morn- 
ing I  will  hear  you  fully." 


840  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Huon,  comforted  a  little  by  these  words,  took  his  seat 
at  the  table  by  the  side  of  the  Governor.  The  Mufti, 
some  Cadis,  Agas,  and  Santons,  filled  the  other  places. 
Sherasmin  sat  down  with  them ;  but  Floriac,  who  would 
not  lose  sight  of  his  guests,  remained  standing,  and 
passed  in  and  out  to  observe  what  was  going  on  within 
the  palace.  He  soon  perceived  a  number  of  armed  men 
gliding  through  the  passages  and  antechambers  connected 
with  the  dining-hall.  He  was  about  to  enter  to  give  his 
guests  notice  of  what  he  had  seen  when  he  heard  a  vio- 
lent noise  and  commotion  in  the  hall.  The  cause  was 
this. 

Huon  and  Sherasmin  were  well  enough  suited  with 
the  first  course  and  ate  with  good  appetite ;  but  the  people 
of  their  country  not  being  accustomed  to  drink  only 
water  at  their  meals,  Huon  and  Sherasmin  looked  at 
one  another,  not  very  well  pleased  at  such  a  regimen. 
Huon  laughed  outright  at  the  impatience  of  Sherasmin, 
but  soon,  experiencing  the  same  want  himself,  he  drew 
forth  Oberon's  cup  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  The 
cup  filled  and  he  drank  it  off,  and  handed  it  to  Sherasmin, 
who  followed  his  example.  The  Governor  and  his  offi- 
cers, seeing  this  abhorred  sign,  contracted  their  brows 
and  sat  in  silent  consternation.  Huon  pretended  not  to 
observe  it,  and  having  filled  the  cup  again  handed  it  to 
his  uncle,  saying,  "Pray,  join  us,  dear  uncle ;  it  is  excellent 
Bordeaux  wine,  the  drink  that  will  be  to  you  like  mother's 
milk."  The  Governor,  who  often  drank  in  secret  with 
his  own  favorite  Sultanas  the  wines  of  Greece  and  Shiraz, 
never  in  public  drank  anything  but  water.  He  had  not 
for  a  long  time  tasted  the  excellent  wines  of  his  native 
land;  he  was  sorely  tempted  to  drink  what  was  now 
handed  to  him,  it  looked  so  bright  in  the  cup,  outshining 
the  gold  itself.  He  stretched  forth  his  hand,  took  the 
brimming  goblet,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips,  when  imme- 
diately it  dried  up  and  disappeared.  Huon  and  Sheras- 
min, like  Gascons  as  they  were,  laughed  at  his  astonish- 
ment. "Christian  dogs !"  he  exclaimed,  "do  you  dare 
to  insult  me  at  my  own  table?  But  I  will  soon  be  re- 
venged." At  these  words  he  threw  the  cup  at  the  head 
of  his  nephew,  who  caught  it  with  his  left  hand,  while 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  841 

with  the  other  he  snatched  the  turban,  with  its  crescent, 
from  the  Governor's  head  and  threw  it  on  the  floor.  All 
the  Saracens  started  up  from  table,  with  loud  outcries, 
and  prepared  to  avenge  the  insult.  Huon  and  Sherasmin 
put  themselves  on  their  defence,  and  met  with  their 
swords  the  scimitars  directed  against  them.  At  this 
moment  the  doors  of  the  hall  opened  and  a  crowd  of 
soldiers  and  armed  eunuchs  rushed  in,  who  joined  in 
the  attack  upon  Huon  and  Sherasmin.  The  Prince 
and  his  followers  took  refuge  on  a  broad  shelf  or  side- 
board, where  they  kept  at  bay  the  crowd  of  assailants, 
making  the  most  forward  of  them  smart  for  their  au- 
dacity. But  more  troops  came  pressing  in  and  the  brave 
Huon,  inspired  by  the  wine  of  Bordeaux,  and  not  angry 
enough  to  lose  his  relish  for  a  joke,  blew  a  gentle  note 
on  his  horn,  and  no  sooner  was  it  heard  than  it  quelled 
the  rage  of  the  combatants  and  set  them  to  dancing. 
Huon  and  Sherasmin,  no  longer  attacked,  looked  down 
from  their  elevated  position  on  a  scene  the  most  singular 
and  amusing.  Very  soon  the  Sultanas,  hearing  the  sound 
of  the  dance  and  finding  their  guards  withdrawn,  came 
into  the  hall  and  mixed  with  the  dancers.  The  favorite 
Sultana  seized  upon  a  young  Santon,  who  performed 
jumps  two  feet  high;  but  soon  the  long  dresses  of  this 
couple  got  intermingled  and  threw  them  down.  The 
Santon' s  beard  was  caught  in  the  Sultana's  necklace,  and 
they  could  not  disentangle  them.  The  Governor  by  no 
means  approved  this  familiarity,  and  took  two  steps  for- 
ward to  get  at  the  Santon,  but  he  stumbled  over  a  pros- 
trate Dervise  and  measured  his  length  on  the  floor.  The 
dancing  continued  till  the  strength  of  the  performers  was 
exhausted,  and  they  fell,  one  after  the  other,  and  lay 
helpless.  The  Governor  at  length  made  signs  to  Huon 
that  he  would  yield  everything  if  he  would  but  allow  him 
to  rest.  The  bargain  was  ratified ;  the  Governor  allowed 
Huon  and  Sherasmin  to  depart  on  their  way,  and  even 
gave  them  a  ring  which  would  procure  them  safe  passage 
through  his  country  and  access  to  the  Sultan  Gaudisso. 
The  two  friends  hastened  to  avail  themselves  of  this 
favorable  turn,  and  taking  leave  of  Floriac,  pursued 
their  journey. 


342  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  (Continued) 

HUON  had  seen  many  beauties  at  his  mother's  court, 
but  his  heart  had  never  been  touched  with  love.  Honor 
had  been  his  mistress,  and  in  pursuit  of  that  he  had 
never  found  time  to  give  a  thought  to  softer  cares. 
Strange  that  a  heart  so  insensible  should  first  be  touched 
by  something  so  unsubstantial  as  a  dream ;  but  so  it  was. 

The  day  after  the  adventure  with  his  uncle  night  over- 
took the  travellers  as  they  passed  through  a  forest.  A 
grotto  offered  them  shelter  from  the  night  dews.  The 
magic  cup  supplied  their  evening  meal ;  for  such  was  its 
virtue  that  it  afforded  not  only  wine,  but  more  solid  fare 
when  desired.  Fatigue  soon  threw  them  into  profound 
repose.  Lulled  by  the  murmur  of  the  foliage,  and  breath- 
ing the  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  Huon  dreamed  that  a 
lady  more  beautiful  than  he  had  ever  before  seen  hung 
over  him  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  his  lips.  As  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  embrace  her  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind  swept  her  away. 

Huon  awoke  in  an  agony  of  regret.  A  few  moments 
sufficed  to  afford  some  consolation  in  showing  him  that 
what  had  passed  was  but  a  dream ;  but  his  perplexity  and 
sadness  could  not  escape  the  notice  of  Sherasmin.  Huon 
hesitated  not  to  inform  his  faithful  follower  of  the  rea- 
son of  his  pensiveness ;  and  got  nothing  in  return  but  his 
rallyings  for  allowing  himself  to  be  disturbed  by  such  a 
cause.  He  recommended  a  draught  from  the  fairy  goblet, 
and  Huon  tried  it  with  good  effect. 

At  early  dawn  they  resumed  their  way.  They  trav- 
elled till  high  noon,  but  said  little  to  one  another.  Huon 
was  musing  on  his  dream,  and  Sherasmin's  thoughts  flew 
back  to  his  early  days  on  the  banks  of  the  flowery  Ga- 
ronne. 

On  a  sudden  they  were  startled  by  the  cry  of  distress, 
and  turning  an  angle  of  the  wood,  came  where  a  knight 
hard  pressed  was  fighting  with  a  furious  lion.  The 
knight's  horse  lay  dead,  and  it  seemed  as  if  another  mo- 
ment would  end  the  combat,  for  terror  and  fatigue  had 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  843 

quite  disabled  the  knight  for  further  resistance.  He 
fell,  and  the  lion's  paw  was  raised  over  him,  when  a 
blow  from  Huon's  sword  turned  the  monster's  rage 
upon  a  new  enemy.  His  roar  shook  the  forest,  and  he 
crouched  in  act  to  spring,  when,  with  the  rapidity  of 
lightning,  Huon  plunged  his  sword  into  his  side.  He 
rolled  over  on  the  plain  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

They  raised  the  knight  from  the  ground,  and  Sherasmin 
hastened  to  offer  him  a  draught  from  the  fairy  cup. 
The  wine  sparkled  to  the  brim,  and  the  warrior  put  forth 
his  lips  to  quaff  it,  but  it  shrunk  away,  and  did  not  even 
wet  his  lips.  lie  dashed  the  goblet  angrily  on  the  ground, 
with  an  exclamation  of  resentment.  This  incident  did 
not  tend  to  make  either  party  more  acceptable  to  the 
other;  and  what  followed  was  worse.  For  when  Huon 
said,  "Sir  knight,  thank  God  for  your  deliverance," — 
"Thank  Mahomet,  rather,  yourself,"  said  he,  "for  he  has 
led  you  this  day  to  render  service  to  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  Prince  of  Hyrcania." 

At  the  sound  of  this  blasphemy  Huon  drew  his  sword 
and  turned  upon  the  miscreant,  who,  little  disposed  to 
encounter  the  prowess  of  which  he  had  so  lately  seen 
proof,  betook  himself  to  flight.  He  ran  to  Huon's  horse, 
and  lightly  vaulting  on  his  back,  clapped  spurs  to  his 
side,  and  galloped  out  of  sight. 

The  adventure  was  vexatious,  yet  there  was  no  remedy. 
The  prince  and  Sherasmin  continued  their  journey  with 
the  aid  of  the  remaining  horse  as  they  best  might.  At 
length,  as  evening  set  in,  they  descried  the  pinnacles  and 
towers  of  a  great  city  full  before  them,  which  they 
knew  to  be  the  famous  city  of  Bagdad. 

They  were  well-nigh  exhausted  with  fatigue  when  they 
arrived  at  its  precincts,  and  in  the  darkness,  not  knowing 
what  course  to  take,  were  glad  to  meet  an  aged  woman, 
who,  in  reply  to  their  inquiries,  offered  them  such  ac- 
commodations as  her  cottage  could  supply.  They  thank- 
fully accepted  the  offer,  and  entered  the  low  door.  The 
good  dame  busily  prepared  the  best  fare  her  stores  sup- 
plied,— milk,  figs,  and  peaches, — deeply  regretting  that 
the  bleak  winds  had  nipped  her  almond-trees. 

Sir  Huon  thought  he  had  never  in  his  life  tasted  any 


844  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

fare  so  good.  The  old  lady  talked  while  her  guests  ate. 
She  doubted  not,  she  said,  they  had  come  to  be  present 
at  the  great  feast  in  honor  of  the  marriage  of  the  Sultan's 
daughter,  which  was  to  take  place  on  the  morrow.  They 
asked  who  the  bridegroom  was  to  be,  and  the  old  lady 
answered,  "The  Prince  of  Hyrcania,"  but  added,  "Our 
princess  hates  him,  and  would  rather  wed  a  dragon  than 
him."  "How  know  you  that  ?"  asked  Huon ;  and  the 
dame  informed  him  that  she  had  it  from  the  princess  her- 
self, who  was  her  foster-child.  Huon  inquired  the  rea- 
son of  the  princess's  aversion ;  and  the  woman  pleased  to 
find  her  chat  excite  so  much  interest,  replied  that  it  was 
all  in  consequence  of  a  dream.  "A  dream !"  exclaimed 
Huon.  "Yes !  a  dream.  She  dreamed  that  she  was  a 
hind,  and  that  the  Prince,  as  a  hunter,  was  pursuing  her, 
and  had  almost  overtaken  her,  when  a  beautiful  dwarf 
appeared  in  view,  drawn  in  a  golden  car,  having  by 
his  side  a  young  man  of  yellow  hair  and  fair  complexion, 
like  one  from  a  foreign  land.  She  dreamed  that  the  car 
stopped  where  she  stood,  and  that,  having  resumed  her 
own  form,  she  was  about  to  ascend  it,  when  suddenly 
it  faded  from  her  view,  and  with  it  the  dwarf  and  the 
fair-haired  youth.  But  from  her  heart  that  vision  did  not 
fade,  and  from  that  time  her  affianced  bridegroom,  the 
Hyrcanian  prince,  had  become  odious  to  her  sight.  ^¥et 
the  Sultan,  her  father,  by  no  means  regarding  such  a 
cause  as  sufficient  to  prevent  the  marriage,  had  named 
the  morrow  as  the  time  when  it  should  be  solemnized,  in 
presence  of  his  court  and  many  princes  of  the  neighbor- 
ing countries,  whom  the  fame  of  the  princess's  beauty 
and  the  bridegroom's  splendor  had  brought  to  the  scene/' 

We  may  suppose  this  conversation  woke  a  tumult  of 
thoughts  in  the  breast  of  Huon.  Was  it  not  clear  that 
Providence  led  him  on,  and  cleared  the  way  for  his  happy 
success  ?  Sleep  did  not  early  visit  the  eyes  of  Huon  that 
night;  but,  with  the  sanguine  temper  of  youth,  he  in- 
dulged his  fancy  in  imagining  the  sequel  of  his  strange 
experience. 

The  next  day,  which  he  could  not  but  regard  as  the 
decisive  day  of  his  fate,  he  prepared  to  deliver  the  mes- 
sage of  Charlemagne.  Clad  in  his  armor,  fortified  with 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  845 

his  ivory  horn  and  his  ring,  he  reached  the  palace  of 
Gaudisso  when  the  guests  were  assembled  at  the  banquet. 
As  he  approached  the  gate  a  voice  called  on  all  true 
believers  to  enter;  and  Huon,  the  brave  and  faithful 
Huon,  in  his  impatience  passed  in  under  that  false  pre- 
tention.  He  had  no  sooner  passed  the  barrier  than  he 
felt  ashamed  of  his  baseness,  and  was  overwhelmed  with 
regret.  To  make  amends  for  his  fault  he  ran  forward 
to  the  second  gate,  and  cried  to  the  porter,  "Dog  of  a 
misbeliever,  I  command  you  in  the  name  of  Him  who  died 
on  the  cross,  open  to  me!"  The  points  of  a  hundred 
weapons  immediately  opposed  his  passage.  Huon  then 
remembered  for  the  first  time  the  ring  he  had  received 
from  his  uncle,  the  Governor.  He  produced  it,  and  de- 
manded to  be  led  to  the  Sultan's  presence.  The  officer 
of  the  guard  recognized  the  ring,  made  a  respectful  obeis- 
ance, and  allowed  him  free  entrance.  In  the  same  way 
he  passed  the  other  doors  to  the  rich  saloon  where  the 
great  Sultan  was  at  dinner  with  his  tributary  princes.  At 
sight  of  the  ring  the  chief  attendant  led  Huon  to  the  head 
of  the  hall,  and  introduced  him  to  the  Sultan  and  his 
princes  as  the  ambassador  of  Charlemagne.  A  seat  was 
provided  for  him  near  the  royal  party. 

The  Prince  of  Hyrcania,  the  same  whom  Huon  had 
rescued  from  the  lion,  and  who  was  the  destined  bride- 
groom of  the  beautiful  Clarimunda,  sat  on  the  Sultan's 
right  hand,  and  the  princess  herself  on  his  left.  It 
chanced  that  Huon  found  himself  near  the  seat  of  the 
princess,  and  hardly  were  the  ceremonies  of  reception 
over  before  he  made  haste  to  fulfill  the  commands  of 
Charlemagne  by  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  rosy  lips,  and 
after  that  a  second,  not  by  command,  but  by  good  will. 
The  Prince  of  Hyrcania  cried  out,  "Audacious  infidel! 
take  the  reward  of  thy  insolence !"  and  aimed  a  blow  at 
Huon,  which,  if  it  had  reached  him,  would  have  brought 
his  embassy  to  a  speedy  termination.  But  the  ingrate 
failed  of  his  aim,  and  Huon  punished  his  blasphemy  and 
ingratitude  at  once  by  a  blow  which  severed  his  head 
from  his  body. 

So  suddenly  had  all  this  happened  that  no  hand  had 
been  raised  tc  arrest  it;  but  now  Gaudisso  cried  out* 


846  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

"Seize  the  murderer!"  Huon  was  hemmed  in  on  all 
sides,  but  his  redoubtable  sword  kept  the  crowd  of  cour- 
tiers at  bay.  But  he  saw  new  combatants  enter,  and 
could  not  hope  to  maintain  his  ground  against  so  many. 
He  recollected  his  horn,  and  raising  it  to  his  lips,  blew 
a  blast  almost  as  loud  as  that  of  Roland  at  Roncesvalles. 
It  was  in  vain.  Oberon  heard  it;  but  the  sin  of  which 
Huon  had  been  guilty  in  bearing,  though  but  for  a 
moment,  the  character  of  a  believer  in  the  false  prophet, 
had  put  it  out  of  Oberon's  power  to  help  him.  Huon, 
finding  himself  deserted,  and  conscious  of  the  cause,  lost 
his  strength  and  energy,  was  seized,  loaded  with  chains, 
and  plunged  into  a  dungeon. 

His  life  was  spared  for  the  time,  merely  that  he  might 
be  reserved  for  a  more  painful  death.  The  Sultan  meant 
that,  after  being  made  to  feel  all  the  torments  of  hunger 
and  despair,  he  should  be  flayed  alive. 

But  an  enchanter  more  ancient  and  more  powerful  than 
Oberon  himself  interested  himself  for  the  brave  Huon. 
The  enchanter  was  Love.  The  Princess  Clarimunda 
learned  with  horror  the  fate  to  which  the  young  prince 
was  destined.  By  the  aid  of  her  govcrnante  she  gained 
over  the  keeper  of  the  prison,  and  went  herself  to  lighten 
the  chains  of  her  beloved.  It  was  her  hand  that  removed 
his  fetters,  from  her  he  received  supplies  of  food  to  sus- 
tain a  life  which  he  devoted  from  thenceforth  wholly  to 
her.  After  the  most  tender  explanations  the  princess  de- 
parted, promising  to  repeat  her  visit  on  the  morrow. 

The  next  day  she  came  according  to  promise,  and 
again  brought  supplies  of  food.  These  visits  were  con- 
tinued during  a  whole  month.  Huon  was  too  good  a 
son  of  the  Church  to  forget  that  the  amiable  princess 
was  a  Saracen,  and  he  availed  himself  of  these  inter- 
views to  instruct  her  in  the  true  faith.  How  easy  it  is 
to  believe  the  truth  when  uttered  by  the  lips  of  those  we 
love !  Clarimunda  ere  long  professed  her  entire  belief  in 
the  Christian  doctrines,  and  desired  to  be  baptized. 

Meanwhile  the  Sultan  had  repeatedly  inquired  of  the 
jailer  how  his  prisoner  bore  the  pains  of  famine,  and 
learned  to  his  surprise  that  he  was  not  yet  much  reduced 
thereby.  On  his  repeating  the  inquiry,  after  a  short 


HUON  OF  BORDEAUX  847 

interval,  the  keeper  replied  that  the  prisoner  had  died 
suddenly,  and  had  been  buried  in  the  cavern.  The  Sul- 
tan could  only  regret  that  he  had  not  sooner  ordered  the 
execution  of  the  sentence. 

While  these  things  were  going  on  the  faithful  She- 
rasmin,  who  had  not  accompanied  Huon  in  his  last  ad- 
venture, but  had  learned  by  common  rumor  the  result 
of  it,  came  to  the  court  in  hopes  of  doing  something  for 
the  rescue  of  his  master.  He  presented  himself  to  the 
Sultan  as  Solario,  his  nephew.  Guadisso  received  him 
with  kindness,  and  all  the  courtiers  loaded  him  with 
attentions.  He  soon  found  means  to  inform  himself  how 
the  Princess  regarded  the  brave  but  unfortunate  Huon, 
and  having  made  himself  known  to  her,  confidence  was 
soon  established  between  them.  Clarimunda  readily 
consented  to  assist  in  the  escape  of  Huon,  and  to  quit 
with  him  her  father's  court  to  repair  to  that  of  Charle- 
magne. Their  united  efforts  had  nearly  perfected  their 
arrangement,  a  vessel  was  secretly  prepared,  and  all 
things  in  forwardness  for  the  flight,  when  an  unlooked- 
for  obstacle  presented  itself.  Huon  himself  positively 
refused  to  go  leaving  the  orders  of  Charlemagne  unexe- 
cuted. 

Sherasmin  was  in  despair.  Bitterly  he  complained  of 
the  fickleness  and  cruelty  of  Oberon  in  withdrawing  his 
aid  at  the  very  crisis  when  it  was  most  necessary.  Earn- 
estly he  urged  every  argument  to  satisfy  the  prince  that 
he  had  done  enough  for  honor,  and  could  not  be  held 
bound  to  achieve  impossibilities.  But  all  was  of  no  avail, 
and  he  knew  not  which  way  to  turn,  when  one  of  those 
events  occurred  which  are  so  frequent  under  Turkish 
despotisms.  A  courier  arrived  at  the  court  of  the  Sultan, 
bearing  the  ring  of  his  sovereign,  the  mighty  Agrapard, 
Caliph  of  Arabia,  and  bringing  the  bow-string  for  the 
neck  of  Gaudisso.  No  reason  was  assigned;  none  but  the 
pleasure  of  the  Caliph  is  ever  required  in  such  cases ;  but 
it  was  suspected  that  the  bearer  of  the  bow-string  had 
persuaded  the  Caliph  that  Gaudisso,  whose  rapacity  was 
well  known,  had  accumulated  immense  treasures,  which 
he  had  not  duly  shared  with  his  sovereign,  and  thus  had 
obtained  an  order  to  supersede  him  in  his  Emirship. 


848  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

The  body  of  Gaudisso  would  have  been  cast  out  a  prey 
to  dogs  and  vultures,  had  not  Sherasmin,  under  the  char- 
acter of  nephew  of  the  deceased,  been  permitted  to  re- 
ceive it,  and  give  it  decent  burial,  which  he  did,  but  not 
till  he  had  taken  possession  of  the  beard  and  grinders, 
agreeably  to  the  orders  of  Charlemagne. 

No  obstacle  now  stood  in  the  way  of  the  lovers  and 
their  faithful  follower  in  returning  to  France.  They 
sailed,  taking  Rome  in  their  way,  where  the  Holy  Father 
himself  blessed  the  union  of  his  nephew,  Duke  Huon 
of  Bordeaux,  with  the  Princess  Clarimunda. 

Soon  afterward  they  arrived  in  France,  where  Huon 
laid  his  trophies  at  the  feet  of  Charlemagne,  and,  being 
restored  to  the  favor  of  the  Emperor,  hastened  to  present 
himself  and  his  bride  to  the  Duchess,  his  mother,  and 
to  the  faithful  liegemen  of  his  province  of  Guienne  and 
his  city  of  Bordeaux,  where  the  pair  were  received  with 
transports  of  joy. 


OGIER,  THE  DANE 

OGIER,  the  Dane,  was  the  son  of  Geoffrey,  who  wrested 
Denmark  from  the  Pagans,  and  reigned  the  first  Chris- 
tian king  of  that  country.  When  Ogier  was  born,  and 
before  he  was  baptized,  six  ladies  of  ravishing  beauty 
appeared  all  at  once  in  the  chamber  of  the  infant.  They 
encircled  him,  and  she  who  appeared  the  eldest  took  him 
in  her  arms,  kissed  him,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  heart. 
"I  give  you,"  said  she,  "to  be  the  bravest  warrior  of  your 
times."  She  delivered  the  infant  to  her  sister,  who  said, 
"I  give  you  abundant  opportunities  to  display  your  valor." 
"Sister,"  said  the  third  lady,  "you  have  given  him  a  dan- 
gerous boon;  I  give  him  that  he  shall  never  be  van- 
quished." The  fourth  sister  added,  as  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  eyes  and  his  mouth,  "I  give  you  the  gift 
of  pleasing."  The  fifth  said,  "Lest  all  these  gifts  serve 
only  to  betray,  I  give  you  sensibility  to  return  the  love 
you  inspire."  Then  spoke  Morgana,  the  youngest  and 
handsomest  of  the  group.  "Charming  creature,  I  claim 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  849 

you  for  my  own ;  and  I  give  you  not  to  die  till  you  shall 
have  come  to  pay  me  a  visit  in  my  isle  of  Avalon."  Then 
she  kissed  the  child  and  departed  with  her  sisters. 

After  this  the  king  had  the  child  carried  to  the  font 
and  baptized  with  the  name  of  Ogier. 

In  his  education  nothing  was  neglected  to  elevate  him 
to  the  standard  of  a  perfect  knight,  and  render  him  ac- 
complished in  all  the  arts  necessary  to  make  him  a  hero. 

He  had  hardly  reached  the  age  of  sixteen  years  when 
Charlemagne,  whose  power  was  established  over  all  the 
sovereigns  of  his  time,  recollected  that  Geoffrey,  Ogier' s 
father,  had  omitted  to  render  the  homage  due  to  him  as 
Emperor,  and  sovereign  lord  of  Denmark,  one  of  the 
grand  fiefs  of  the  empire.  He  accordingly  sent  an  em- 
bassy to  demand  of  the  king  of  Denmark  this  homage, 
and  on  receiving  a  refusal,  couched  in  haughty  terms, 
sent  an  army  to  enforce  the  demand.  Geoffroy,  after 
an  unsuccessful  resistance,  was  forced  to  comply,  and  as 
a  pledge  of  his  sincerity  delivered  Ogier,  his  eldest  son, 
a  hostage  to  Charles,  to  be  brought  up  at  his  court.  He 
was  placed  in  charge  of  the  Duke  Namo  of  Bavaria,  the 
friend  of  his  father,  who  treated  him  like  his  own  son. 

Ogier  grew  up  more  and  more  handsome  and  ami- 
able every  day.  He  surpassed  in  form,  strength,  and 
address  all  the  noble  youths  his  companions;  he  failed 
not  to  be  present  at  all  tourneys ;  he  was  attentive  to  the 
elder  knights,  and  burned  with  impatience  to  imitate 
them.  Yet  his  heart  rose  sometimes  in  secret  against 
his  condition  as  a  hostage,  and  as  one  apparently  for- 
gotten by  his  father. 

The  King  of  Denmark,  in  fact,  was  at  this  time  occu- 
pied with  new  loves.  Ogier's  mother  having  died,  he 
had  married  a  second  wife,  and  had  a  son  named  Guyon. 
The  new  queen  had  absolute  power  over  her  husband,  and 
fearing  that,  if  he  should  see  Ogier  again,  he  would  give 
him  the  preference  over  Guyon,  she  had  adroitly  per- 
suaded him  to  delay  rendering  his  homage  to  Charle- 
magne, till  now  four  years  had  passed  away  since  the  last 
renewal  of  that  ceremony.  Charlemagne,  irritated  at 
this  delinquency,  drew  closer  the  bonds  of  Ogier's  cap- 
tivity until  he  should  receive  a  response  from  the  king  of 


850  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Denmark  to  a  fresh  summons  which  he  caused  to  be  sent 
to  him. 

The  answer  of  Geoffroy  was  insulting  and  defiant,  and 
the  rage  of  Charlemagne  was  roused  in  the  highest  de- 
gree. He  was  at  first  disposed  to  wreak  his  vengeance 
upon  Ogier,  his  hostage ;  but  at  the  entreaties  of  Duke 
Namo,  who  felt  towards  his  pupil  like  a  father,  consented 
to  spare  his  life,  if  Ogier  would  swear  fidelity  to  him  as 
his  liege-lord,  and  promise  not  to  quit  his  court  without 
his  permission.  Ogier  accepted  these  terms,  and  was 
allowed  to  retain  all  the  freedom  he  had  before  enjoyed. 

The  Emperor  would  have  immediately  taken  arms  to 
reduce  his  disobedient  vassal,  if  he  had  not  been  called 
off  in  another  direction  by  a  message  from  Pope  Leo, 
imploring  his  assistance.  The  Saracens  had  landed  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Rome,  occupied  Mount  Janiculum, 
and  prepared  to  pass  the  Tiber  and  carry  fire  and  sword 
to  the  capital  of  the  Christian  world.  Charlemagne  hesi- 
tated not  to  yield  to  the  entreaties  of  the  Pope.  He 
speedily  assembled  an  army,  crossed  the  Alps,  traversed 
Italy,  and  arrived  at  Spoleto,  a  strong  place  to  which  the 
Pope  had  retired.  Leo,  at  the  head  of  his  Cardinals,  ad- 
vanced to  meet  him,  and  rendered  him  homage,  as  to  the 
son  of  Pepin,  the  illustrious  protector  of  the  Holy  See, 
coming,  as  his  father  had  done,  to  defend  it  in  the  hour 
of  need. 

Charlemagne  stopped  but  two  days  at  Spoleto,  and 
learning  that  the  Infidels,  having  rendered  themselves 
masters  of  Rome,  were  besieging  the  Capitol,  which  could 
not  long  hold  out  against  them,  marched  promptly  to 
attack  them. 

The  advanced  posts  of  the  army  were  commanded  by 
Dttke  Namo,  on  whom  Ogier  waited  as  his  squire.  He 
did  not  yet  bear  arms,  not  having  received  the  order  of 
knighthood.  The  Oriflamme,  the  royal  standard,  was 
borne  by  a  knight  named  Alory,  who  showed  himself 
unworthy  of  the  honor. 

Duke  Namo,  seeing  a  strong  body  of  the  Infidels  ad- 
vancing to  attack  him,  gave  the  word  to  charge  them. 
Ogier  remained  in  the  rear,  with  the  other  youths,  griev- 
ing much  that  he  was  not  permitted  to  fight.  Very  soon 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  851 

he  saw  Alory  lower  the  Oriflamme,  and  turn  his  horse 
in  flight.  Ogier  pointed  him  out  to  the  young  men,  and 
seizing  a  club,  rushed  upon  Alory  and  struck  him  from 
his  horse.  Then,  with  his  companions,  he  disarmed  him, 
clothed  himself  in  his  armor,  raised  the  Oriflamme,  and 
mounting  the  horse  of  the  unworthy  knight,  flew  to  the 
front  rank,  where  he  joined  Duke  Namo,  drove  back 
the  Infidels,  and  carried  the  Oriflamme  quite  through 
their  broken  ranks.  The  Duke,  thinking  it  was  Alory, 
whom  he  had  not  held  in  high  esteem,  was  astonished 
at  his  strength  and  valor.  Ogier's  young  companions 
imitated  him,  supplying  themselves  with  armor  from  the 
bodies  of  the  slain  ;  they  followed  Ogier  and  carried  death 
into  the  ranks  of  the  Saracens,  who  fell  back  in  confu- 
sion upon  their  main  body. 

Duke  Namo  now  ordered  a  retreat,  and  Ogier  obeyed 
with  reluctance,  when  they  perceived  Charlemagne  ad- 
vancing to  their  assistance.  The  combat  now  became 
general,  and  was  more  terrible  than  ever.  Charlemagne 
had  overthrown  Corsuble,  the  commander  of  the  Sara- 
cens, and  had  drawn  his  famous  sword,  Joyeuse,  to  cut 
oft'  his  head,  when  two  Saracen  knights  set  upon  him  at 
once,  one  of  whom  slew  his  horse,  and  the  other  over- 
threw the  Emperor  on  the  sand.  Perceiving  by  the 
eagle  on  his  casque  who  he  was,  they  dismounted  in  haste 
to  give  him  his  deathblow.  Never  was  the  life  of  the 
Emperor  in  such  peril.  But  Ogier,  who  saw  him  fall, 
flew  to  his  rescue.  Though  embarrassed  with  the  Ori- 
flamme, he  pushed  his  horse  against  one  of  the  Saracens 
and  knocked  him  down ;  and  with  his  sword  dealt  the 
other  so  vigorous  a  blow  that  he  fell  stunned  to  the  earth. 
Then  helping  the  Emperor  to  rise,  he  remounted  him 
on  the  horse  of  one  of  the  fallen  knights.  "Brave  and 
generous  Alory!"  Charles  exclaimed,  "I  owe  to  you  my 
honor  and  my  life !"  Ogier  made  no  answer ;  but,  leav- 
ing Charlemagne  surrounded  by  a  great  many  of  the 
knights  who  had  flown  to  his  succor,  he  plunged  into 
the  thickest  ranks  of  the  enemy,  and  carried  the  Ori- 
flamme, followed  by  a  gallant  train  of  youthful  warriors, 
till  the  standard  of  Mahomet  turned  in  retreat,  and  the 
Infidels  sought  safety  in  their  intrenchments. 


852  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Then  the  good  Archbishop  Turpin  laid  aside  his  hel- 
met and  his  bloody  sword  (for  he  always  felt  that  he 
was  clearly  in  the  line  of  his  duty  while  slaying  Infidels), 
took  his  mitre  and  his  crosier,  and  intoned  Te  Deum. 

At  this  moment  Ogier,  covered  with  blood  and  dust, 
came  to  lay  the  Oriflamme  at  the  feet  of  the  Emperor. 
He  was  followed  by  a  train  of  warriors  of  short  stature, 
who  walked  ill  at  ease  loaded  with  armor  too  heavy  for 
them.  Ogier  knelt  at  the  feet  of  Charlemagne,  who 
embraced  him,  calling  him  Alory,  while  Turpin  from 
the  height  of  the  altar,  blessed  him  with  all  his  might. 
Then  young  Orlando,  son  of  the  Count  Milone,  and 
nephew  of  Charlemagne,  no  longer  able  to  endure  this 
misapprehension,  threw  down  his  helmet,  and  ran  to 
unlace  Ogier's,  while  the  other  young  men  laid  aside 
theirs.  Our  author  says  he  cannot  express  the  surprise, 
the  admiration,  and  the  tenderness  of  the  Emperor  and 
his  peers.  Charles  folded  Ogier  in  his  arms,  and  the 
happy  fathers  of  those  brave  youths  embraced  them  with 
tears  of  joy.  The  good  Duke  Namo  stepped  forward, 
and  Charlemagne  yielded  Ogier  to  his  embrace.  "How 
much  dp  I  owe  you/'  he  said,  "good  and  wise  friend, 
for  having  restrained  my  anger!  My  dear  Ogier!  I 
owe  you  my  life !  My  sword  leaps  to  touch  your  shoul- 
der, yours  and  those  of  your  brave  young  friends."  At 
these  words  he  drew  that  famous  sword,  Joyeuse,  and 
while  Ogier  and  the  rest  knelt  before  him,  gave  them  the 
accolade  conferring  on  them  the  order  of  knighthood. 
The  young  Orlando  and  his  cousin  Oliver  could  not  re- 
frain, even  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor,  from  fall- 
ing upon  Ogier's  neck,  and  pledging  with  him  that 
brotherhood  in  arms,  so  dear  and  so  sacred  to  the  knights 
of  old  times;  but  Chariot,  the  Emperor's  son,  at  the 
sight  of  the  glory  with  which  Ogier  had  covered  him- 
self, conceived  the  blackest  jealousy  and  hate. 

The  rest  of  the  day  and  the  next  were  spent  in  the 
rejoicings  of  the  army.  Turpin  in  a  solemn  service 
implored  the  favor  of  Heaven  upon  the  youthful  knights, 
and  blessed  the  white  armor  which  was  prepared  for 
them.  Duke  Namo  presented  them  with  golden  spurs, 
Charles  himself  girded  on  their  swords.  But  what  was 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  853 

lis  astonishment  when  he  examined  that  intended  for 
Dgier!  The  loving  Fairy,  Morgana,  had  had  the  art  to 
:hange  it,  and  to  substitute  one  of  her  own  procuring, 
md  when  Charles  drew  it  out  of  the  scabbard,  these 
Arords  appeared  written  on  the  steel :  "My  name  is  Cor- 
ana,  of  the  same  steel  and  temper  as  Joyeuse  and  Dur- 
ndana."  Charles  saw  that  a  superior  power  watched 
rver  the  destinies  of  Ogier;  he  vowed  to  love  him  as  a 
father  would,  and  Ogier  promised  him  the  devotion  of 
i  son.  Happy  had  it  been  for  both  if  they  had  always 
xmtinued  mindful  of  their  promises. 

The  Saracen  army  had  hardly  recovered  from  its 
dismay  when  Carahue,  King  of  Mauritania,  who  was 
Dne  of  the  knights  overthrown  by  Ogier  at  the  time  of 
the  rescue  of  Charlemagne,  determined  to  challenge  him 
to  single  combat.  With  that  view  he  assumed  the  dress 
[>f  a  herald,  resolved  to  carry  his  own  message.  The 
French  knights  admired  his  air,  and  said  to  one  another 
that  he  seemed  more  fit  to  be  a  knight  than  a  bearer 
of  messages. 

Carahue  began  by  passing  the  warmest  eulogium  upon 
the  knight  who  bore  the  Oriflamme  on  the  day  of  the 
battle,  and  concluded  by  saying  that  Carahue,  King  of 
Mauritania,  respected  that  knight  so  much  that  he  chal- 
lenged him  to  the  combat. 

Ogier  had  risen  to  reply,  when  he  was  interrupted 
by  Chariot,  who  said  that  the  gage  of  the  King  of  Mauri- 
tania could  not  fitly  be  received  by  a  vassal,  living  in 
captivity;  by  which  he  meant  Ogier,  who  was  at  that 
time  serving  as  hostage  for  his  father.  Fire  flashed 
from  the  eyes  of  Ogier,  but  the  presence  of  the  Em- 
peror restrained  his  speech,  and  he  was  calmed  by  the 
kind  looks  of  Charlemagne,  who  said,  with  an  angry 
voice,  "Silence,  Chariot!  By  the  life  of  Bertha,  my 
queen,  he  who  has  saved  my  life  is  as  dear  to  me  as 
vourself.  Ogier,"  he  continued,  <4y°u  al*e  no  longer  a 
hostage.  Herald!  report  my  answer  to  your  master, 
that  never  does  knight  of  my  court  refuse  a  challenge 
on  equal  terms.  Ogier,  the  Dane,  accepts  of  his.  and  I 
myself  am  his  security." 

Carahue,  profoundly  bowing,  replied,  "My  lord,  I  was 


854  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

sure  that  the  sentiments  of  so  great  a  sovereign  as  your- 
self would  be  worthy  of  your  high  and  brilliant  fame; 
I  shall  report  your  answer  to  my  master,  who  T  know 
admires  you,  and  unwillingly  takes  arms  against  you." 
Then,  turning  to  Chariot,  whom  he  did  not  know  as 
the  son  of  the  Emperor,  he  continued,  "As  for  you,  Sir 
Knight,  if  the  desire  of  battle  inflames  you,  I  have  it  in 
charge  from  Sadon,  cousin  of  the  King  of  Mauritania, 
to  give  the  like  defiance  to  any  French  knights  who  will 
grant  him  the  honor  of  the  combat." 

Chariot,  inflamed  with  rage  and  vexation  at  the  public 
reproof  which  he  had  just  received,  hesitated  not  to 
deliver  his  gage.  Carahue  received  it  with  Ogier's,  and 
it  was  agreed  that  the  combat  should  be  on  the  next 
day  in  a  meadow  environed  by  woods  and  equally  dis- 
tant from  both  armies. 

The  perfidious  Chariot  meditated  the  blackest  treason. 
During  the  night  he  collected  some  knights  unworthy 
of  the  name,  and  like  himself  in  their  ferocious  man- 
ners; he  made  them  swear  to  avenge  his  injuries,  armed 
them  in  black  armor,  and  sent  them  to  lie  in  ambush 
in  the  wood,  with  orders  to  make  a  pretended  attack 
upon  the  whole  party,  but  in  fact,  to  lay  heavy  hands 
upon  Ogier  and  the  two  Saracens. 

At  the  dawn  of  day  Sadon  and  Carahue,  attended 
only  by  two  pages  to  carry  their  spears,  took  their  way 
to  the  appointed  meadow;  and  Chariot  and  Ogier  re- 
paired thither  also,  but  by  different  paths.  Ogier  ad- 
vanced with  a  calm  air,  saluted  courteously  the  two 
Saracen  knights,  and  joined  them  in  arranging  the  terms 
of  combat. 

While  this  was  going  on  the  perfidious  Chariot  re- 
mained behind  and  gave  his  men  the  signal  to  advance. 
That  cowardly  troop  issued  from  the  wood  and  encom- 
passed the  three  knights.  All  three  were  equally  sur- 
prised at  the  attack,  but  neither  of  them  suspected  the 
other  to  have  any  hand  in  the  treason.  Seeing  the 
attack  made  equally  upon  them  all,  they  united  their 
efforts  to  resist  it,  and  made  the  most  forward  of  the 
assailants  bite  the  dust.  Cortana  fell  on  no  one  without 
inflicting  a  mortal  wound,  but  the  sword  of  Carahue 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  855 

was  not  of  equal  temper  and  broke  in  his  hands.  At 
the  same  instant  his  horse  was  slain,  and  Carahue  fell, 
without  a  weapon,  and  entangled  with  his  prostrate 
horse.  Ogier,  who  saw  it,  ran  to  his  defence,  and  leap- 
ing to  the  ground  covered  the  prince  with  his  shield, 
supplied  him  with  the  sword  pf  one  of  the  fallen  ruf- 
fians, and  would  have  him  mount  his  own  borse.  At 
that  moment  Chariot,  inflamed  with  rage,  pushed  his 
horse  upon  Ogier,  knocked  him  down,  and  would  have 
run  him  through  with  his  lance  if  Sadon,  who  ?aw  the 
treason,  had  not  sprung  upon  him  and  thrust  hint  hack. 
Carahue  leapt  lightly  upon  the  horse  which  Ogier  pre- 
sented him,  and  had  time  only  to  exclaim,  "Brave  Ogier, 
I  am  no  longer  your  enemy,  I  pledge  to  you  an  eternal 
friendship,"  when  numerous  Saracen  knights  were  seen 
approaching,  having  discovered  the  treachery,  and  Char' 
lot  with  his  followers  took  refuge  in  the  wood. 

The  troop  which  advanced  was  commanded  by  Danne- 
mont,  the  exiled  king  of  Denmark,  whom  Geoffrey, 
Ogier's  father,  had  driven  from  his  throne  and  com- 
pelled to  take  refuge  with  the  Saracens.  Learning  who 
Ogier  was,  he  instantly  declared  him  his  prisoner,  in 
spite  of  the  urgent  remonstrances  and  even  threats  of 
Carahue  and  Sadon,  and  carried  him  under  a  strong 
guard  to  the  Saracen  camp.  Here  he  was  at  first  sub- 
jected to  the  most  rigorous  captivity,  but  Carahue  and 
Sadon  insisted  so  vehemently  on  his  release,  threatening 
to  turn  their  arms  against  their  own  party  if  it  was 
not  granted,  while  Dannemont  as  eagerly  opposed  the 
measure,  that  Corsuble,  the  Saracen  commander,  con- 
sented to  a  middle  course,  and  allowed  Ogier  the  free- 
dom of  his  camp,  upon  his  promise  not  to  leave  it  with- 
out permission. 

Carahue  was  not  satisfied  with  this  partial  concession. 
He  left  the  city  next  morning,  proceeded  to  the  camp  of 
Charlemagne,  and  demanded  to  be  led  to  the  Emperor. 
When  he  reached  his  presence  he  dismounted  from  his 
horse,  took  off  his  helmet,  drew  his  sword,  and  holding 
it  by  the  blade  presented  it  to  Charlemagne  as  he  knelt 
before  him. 

"Illustrious  prince,"  he  said,  "behold  before  you  the 


856  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

herald  who  brought  the  challenge  to  your  knights  from 
the  King  of  Mauritania.  The  cowardly  old  King  Danne- 
mont  has  made  the  brave  Ogier  prisoner,  and  has  pre- 
vailed on  our  general  to  refuse  to  give  him  up.  I  come 
to  make  amends  for  this  ungenerous  conduct  by  yield- 
ing myself,  Carahue,  King  of  Mauritania,  your  prisoner." 

Charlemagne,  with  all  his  peers,  admired  the  mag- 
nanimity of  Carahue;  he  raised  him,  embraced  him,  and 
restored  to  him  his  sword.  "Prince/*  said  he,  "your 
presence  and  the  bright  example  you  afford  my  knights 
consoles  me  for  the  loss  of  Ogier.  Would  to  God  you 
might  receive  our  holy  faith,  and  be  wholly  united  with 
us.  All  the  lords  of  the  court,  led  by  Duke  Namo, 
paid  their  respects  to  the  King  of  Mauritania.  Chariot 
only  failed  to  appear,  fearing  to  be  recognized  as  a 
traitor;  but  the  heart  of  Carahue  was  too  noble  to  pierce 
that  of  Charlemagne  by  telling  him  the  treachefy  of  his 
son. 

Meanwhile  the  Saracen  army  was  rent  by  discord. 
The  troops  of  Carahue  clamored  against  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  because  their  king  was  left  in  captivity. 
They  even  threatened  to  desert  the  cause  and  turn  their 
arms  against  their  allies.  Charlemagne  pressed  the  siege 
vigorously,  till  at  length  the  Saracen  leaders  found 
themselves  compelled  to  abandon  the  city  and  betake 
themselves  to  their  ships.  A  truce  was  made;  Ogier 
was  exchanged  for  Carahue,  and  the  two  friends  em- 
braced one  another  with  vows  of  perpetual  brother- 
hood. The  Pope  was  reestablished  in  his  dominions,  and 
Italy  being  tranquil,  Charlemagne  returned  with  his 
peers  and  their  followers  to  France. 


OGIER,   THE   DANE    (Continued) 

CHARLEMAGNE  had  not  forgotten  the  offence  of  Geof- 
froy,  the  King  of  Denmark,  in  withholding  homage,  and 
now  prepared  to  enforce  submission.  But  at  this  crisis 
he  was  waited  upon  by  an  embassy  from  Geoff roy,  ac- 
knowledging his  fault,  and  craving  assistance  against  an 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  857 

army  of  invaders  who  had  attacked  his  states  with  a 
force  which  he  was  unable  to  repel.  The  soul  of 
Charlemagne  was  too  great  to  be  implacable,  and  he 
took  this  opportunity  to  test  that  of  Ogier,  who  had  felt 
acutely  the  unkindness  of  his  father,  in  leaving  him, 
without  regard  or  notice,  fifteen  years  in  captivity. 
Charles  asked  Ogier  whether,  in  spite  of  his  father's 
neglect,  he  was  disposed  to  lead  an  army  to  his  as- 
sistance. He  replied,  "A  son  can  never  be  excused  from 
helping  his  father  by  any  cause  short  of  death."  Charle- 
magne placed  an  army  of  a  thousand  knights  under  the 
command  of  Ogier,  and  great  numbers  more  volunteered 
to  march  under  so  distinguished  a  leader.  He  flew  to 
the  succor  of  his  father,  repelled  the  invaders,  and  drove 
them  in  confusion  to  their  vessels.  Ogier  then  hastened 
to  the  capital,  but  as  he  drew  near  the  city  he  heard 
all  the  bells  sounding  a  knell.  He  soon  learned  the 
cause;  k  was  the  obsequies  of  Geoffroy,  the  King. 
Ogier  felt  keenly  the  grief  of  not  having  been  permitted 
to  embrace  his  father  once  more,  and  to  learn  his  latest 
commands;  but  he  found  that  his  father  had  declared 
him  heir  to  his  throne.  He  hastened  to  the  church  where 
the  body  lay ;  he  knelt  and  bathed  the  lifeless  form  with 
his  tears.  At  that  moment  a  celestial  light  beamed  all 
around,  and  a  voice  of  an  angel  said,  "Ogier,  leave  thy 
crown  to  Guyon,  thy  brother,  and  bear  no  other  title 
than  that  of  The  Dane/  Thy  destiny  is  glorious,  and 
other  kingdoms  are  reserved  for  thee."  Ogier  obeyed 
the  divine  behest.  He  saluted  his  stepmother  respect- 
fully, and  embracing  his  brother,  told  him  that  he  was 
content  with  his  lot  in  being  reckoned  among  the  pala- 
dins of  Charlemagne,  and  resigned  all  claims  to  the 
crown  of  Denmark. 

Ogier  returned  covered  with  glory  to  the  court  of 
Charlemagne,  and  the  Emperor,  touched  with  this  proof 
of  his  attachment,  loaded  him  with  caresses,  and  treated 
him  almost  as  an  equal. 

We  pass  in  silence  the  adventures  of  Ogier  for  sev- 
eral ensuing  years,  in  which  the  fairy-gifts  of  his  in- 
fancy showed  their  force  in  making  him  successful  in 
all  enterprises,  both  of  love  and  war.  He  married  the 


858  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

charming  Belicene,  and  became  the  father  of  young 
Baldwin,  a  youth  who  seemed  to  inherit  in  full  meas- 
ure the  strength  and  courage  of  his  father  and  the 
beauty  of  his  mother.  When  the  lad  was  old  enough 
to  be  separated  from  his  mother,  Ogier  took  him  to 
court  and  presented  him  to  Charlemagne,  who  embraced 
him  and  took  him  into  his  service.  It  seemed  to  Duke 
Namo,  and  all  the  elder  knights,  as  if  they  saw  in  him 
Ogier  himself,  as  he  was  when  a  youth ;  and  this  re- 
semblance won  for  the  lad  their  kind  regards.  Even 
Chariot  at  first  seemed  to  be  fond  of  him,  though  after 
a  while  the  resemblance  to  Ogier  which  he  noticed  had 
the  effect  to  excite  his  hatred. 

Baldwin  was  attentive  to  Chariot,  and  lost  no  occa- 
sion to  be  serviceable.  The  Prince  loved  to  play  chess, 
and  Baldwin,  who  played  well,  often  made  a  party  with 
him. 

One  day  Chariot  was  nettled  at  losing  two  pieces  in 
succession;  he  thought  he  could,  by  taking  a  piece  from 
Baldwin,  get  some  amends  for  his  loss;  but  Baldwin, 
seeing  him  fall  into  a  trap  which  he  had  set  for  him, 
could  not  help  a  slight  laugh,  as  he  said,  "Check-mate." 
Chariot  rose  in  a  fury,  seized  the  rich  and  heavy  chess- 
board, and  dashed  it  with  all  his  strength  on  the  head 
of  Baldwin,  who  fell,  and  died  where  he  fell. 

Frightened  at  his  own  crime,  and  fearing  the  ven- 
geance of  the  terrible  Ogier,  Chariot  concealed  himself 
in  the  interior  of  the  palace.  A  young  companion  of 
Baldwin  hastened  and  informed  Ogier  of  the  event.  He 
ran  to  the  chamber,  and  beheld  the  body  of  his  child 
bathed  in  blood,  and  it  could  not  be  concealed  from  him 
that  Chariot  gave  the  blow.  Transported  with  rage, 
Ogier  sought  Chariot  through  the  palace,  and  Chariot, 
feeling  safe  nowhere  else,  took  refuge  in  the  hall  of 
Charlemagne,  where  he  seated  himself  at  table  with 
Duke  Namo  and  Salomon,  Duke  of  Brittany.  Ogier, 
with  sword  drawn,  followed  him  to  the  very  table  of 
the  Emperor.  When  a  cupbearer  attempted  to  bar  his 
way  he  struck  the  cup  from  his  hand  and  dashed  the 
contents  in  the  Emperor's  face.  Charles  rose  in  a  pas- 
sion, seized  a  knife,  and  would  have  plunged  it  into  his 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  859 

breast,  had  not  Salomon  and  another  baron  thrown 
themselves  between,  while  Namo,  who  had  retained  his 
ancient  influence  over  Ogier,  drew  him  out  of  the  room. 
Foreseeing  the  consequence  of  this  violence,  pitying 
Ogier,  and  in  his  heart  excusing  him,  Namo  hurried 
him  away  before  the  guards  of  the  palace  could  arrest 
him,  made  him  mount  his  horse,  and  leave  Paris. 

Charlemagne  called  together  his  peers,  and  made  them 
take  an  oath  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  arrest  Ogier, 
and  bring  him  to  condign  punishment.  Ogier  on  his 
part  sent  messages  to  the  Emperor,  offering  to  give  him- 
self up  on  condition  that  Chariot  should  be  punished 
for  his  atrocious  crime.  The  Emperor  would  listen  to 
no  conditions,  and  went  in  pursuit  of  Ogier  at  the  head 
of  a  large  body  of  soldiers.  Ogier,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  warmly  supported  by  many  knights,  who  pledged 
themselves  in  his  defence.  The  contest  raged  long,  with 
no  decisive  results.  Ogier  more  than  once  had  the  Em- 
peror in  his  power,  but  declined  to  avail  himself  of  his 
advantage,  and  released  him  without  conditions.  He 
even  implored  pardon  for  himself,  but  demanded  at  the 
same  time  the  punishment  of  Chariot.  But  Charlemagne 
was  too  blindly  fond  of  his  unworthy  son  to  subject  him 
to  punishment  for  the  sake  of  conciliating  one  who  had 
been  so  deeply  injured. 

At  length,  distressed  at  the  blood  which  his  friends 
had  lost  in  his  cause,  Ogier  dismissed  his  little  army, 
and  slipping  away  from  those  who  wished  to  attend  him, 
took  his  course  to  rejoin  the  Duke  Guyon,  his  brother. 
On  his  way,  having  reached  the  forest  of  Ardennes, 
weary  with  long  travel,  the  freshness  of  a  retired  valley 
tempted  him  to  lie  down  to  take  some  repose.  He  un- 
saddled Beiffror,  relieved  himself  of  his  helmet,  lay 
down  on  the  turf,  rested  his  head  on  his  shield,  and  slept. 

It  so  happened  that  Turpin,  who  occasionally  recalled 
to  mind  that  he  was  Archbishop  of  Rheins,  was  at  that 
time  in  the  vicinity,  making  a  pastoral  visit  to  the 
churches  under  his  jurisdiction.  But  his  dignity  of  peer 
of  France,  and  his  martial  spirit,  which  caused  him 
to  be  reckoned  among  the  "preux  chevaliers"  of  his 
time,  forbade  him  to  travel  without  as  large  a  retinue 


860  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

of  knights  as  he  had  of  clergymen,  One  of  these  was 
thirsty,  and  knowing  the  fountain  on  the  borders  of 
which  Ogier  was  reposing,  he  rode  to  it,  and  was  struck 
by  the  sight  of  a  knight  stretched  on  the  ground.  He 
hastened  back,  and  let  the  Archbishop  know,  who  ap- 
proached the  fountain,  and  recognized  Ogier. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  good  and  generous  Turpin 
was  to  save  his  friend,  for  whom  he  felt  the  warmest 
attachment;  but  his  archdeacons  and  knights,  who  also 
recognized  Ogier,  reminded  the  Archbishop  of  the  oath 
which  the  Emperor  had  exacted  of  them  all.  Turpin 
could  not  be  false  to  his  oath;  but  it  was  not  without 
a  groan  that  he  permitted  his  followers  to  bind  the  sleep- 
ing knight.  The  Archbishop's  attendants  secured  the 
horse  and  arms  of  Ogier,  and  conducted  their  prisoner 
to  the  Emperor  at  Soissons. 

The  Emperor  had  become  so  much  embittered  by 
Ogier's  obstinate  resistance,  added  to  his  original  fault, 
that  he  was  disposed  to  order  him  to  instant  death.  But 
Turpin,  seconded  by  the  good  Dukes  Namo  and  Salo- 
mon, prayed  so  hard  for  him  that  Charlemagne  con- 
sented to  remit  a  violent  death,  but  sentenced  him  to 
close  imprisonment,  under  the  charge  of  the  Archbishop, 
strictly  limiting  his  food  to  one  quarter  of  a  loaf  of 
bread  per  day,  with  one  piece  of  meat,  and  a  quarter  of 
a  cup  of  wine.  In  this  way  he  hoped  to  quickly  put  an 
end  to  his  life  without  bringing  on  himself  the  hostility 
of  the  King  of  Denmark,  and  other  powerful  friends 
of  Ogier.  He  exacted  a  new  oath  of  Turpin  to  obey  his 
order  strictly. 

The  good  Archbishop  loved  Ogier  too  well  not  to  cast 
about  for  some  means  of  saving  his  life,  which  he  fore- 
saw he  would  soon  lose  if  subjected  to  such  scanty  fare, 
for  Ogier  was  seven  feet  tall,  and  had  an  appetite  in 
proportion.  Turpin  remembered,  moreover,  that  Ogier 
was  a  true  son  of  the  Church,  always  zealous  to  propa- 
gate the  faith  and  subdue  unbelievers;  so  he  felt  justi- 
fied in  practising  on  this  occasion  what  in  later  times 
has  been  entitled  "mental  reservation,"  without  swerving 
from  the  letter  of  the  oath  which  he  had  taken.  This 
is  the  method  he  hit  upon. 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  861 

Every  morning  he  had  his  prisoner  supplied  with  a 
quarter  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  made  of  two  bushels  of  flour, 
to  this  he  added  a  quarter  of  a  sheep  or  a  fat  calf,  and 
he  had  a  cup  made  which  held  forty  pints  of  wine,  and 
allowed  Ogier  a  quarter  of  it  daily. 

Ogier's  imprisonment  lasted  long;  Charlemagne  was 
astonished  to  hear,  from  time  to  time,  that  he  still  held 
out;  and  when  he  inquired  more  particularly  of  Turpin, 
the  good  Archbishop,  relying  on  his  own  understanding 
of  the  words,  did  not  hesitate  to  affirm  positively  that 
he  allowed  his  prisoner  no  more  than  the  permitted 
ration. 

We  forgot  to  say  that,  when  Ogier  was  led  prisoner 
to  Soissons,  the  Abbot  of  Saint  Faron,  observing  the 
fine  horse  Beiffror,  and  not  having  at  the  time  any  other 
favor  to  ask  of  Charlemagne,  begged  the  Emperor  to 
give  him  the  horse,  and  had  him  taken  to  his  abbey. 
He  was  impatient  to  try  his  new  acquisition,  and  when 
he  had  arrived  in  his  litter  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
where  the  horse  had  been  brought  to  meet  him  mounted 
him  and  rode  onward.  The  horse,  accustomed  to  bear 
the  enormous  weight  of  Ogier  in  his  armor,  when  he 
perceived  nothing  on  his  back  but  the  light  weight  of 
the  Abbot,  whose  long  robes  fluttered  against  his  sides, 
ran  away,  making  prodigious  leaps  over  the  steep  accliv- 
ities of  the  mountain  till  he  reached  the  convent  of 
Jouaire,  where,  in  sight  of  the  Abbess  and  her  nuns,  he 
threw  the  Abbot,  already  half  dead  with  fright,  to  the 
ground.  The  Abbot,  bruised  and  mortified,  revenged 
himself  on  poor  BeifFror,  whom  he  condemned,  in  his 
wrath,  to  be  given  to  the  workmen  to  drag  stones  for 
a  chapel  that  he  was  building  near  the  abbey.  Thus, 
ill-fed,  hard-worked,  and  often  beaten,  the  noble  horse 
Beiffror  passed  the  time  while  his  master's  imprisonment 
lasted. 

That  imprisonment  would  have  been  as  long  as  his  life 
if  it  had  not  been  for  some  important  events  which 
forced  the  Emperor  to  set  Ogier  at  liberty. 

The  Emperor  learned  at  the  same  time  that  Carahue, 
King  of  Mauritania,  was  assembling  an  army  to  come 
and  demand  the  liberation  of  Ogier;  that  Guyon,  King 


862  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

of  Denmark,  was  prepared  to  second  the  enterprise  with 
all  his  forces;  and,  worse  than  all,  that  the  Saracens, 
under  Bruhier,  Sultan  of  Arabia,  had  landed  in  Gascony, 
taken  Bordeaux,  and  were  marching  with  all  speed  for 
Paris. 

Charlemagne  now  felt  how  necessary  the  aid  of  Ogier 
was  to  him.  But,  in  spite  of  the  representations  of 
Turpin,  Namo,  and  Salomon,  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  consent  to  surrender  Chariot  to  such  punishment  as 
Ogier  should  see  fit  to  impose.  Besides,  he  believed  that 
Ogier  was  without  strength  and  vigor,  weakened  by  im- 
prisonment and  long  abstinence. 

At  this  crisis  he  received  a  message  from  Bruhier, 
proposing  to  put  the  issue  upon  the  result  of  a  combat 
between  himself  and  the  Emperor  or  his  champion: 
promising,  if  defeated,  to  withdraw  his  army.  Charle- 
magne would  willingly  have  accepted  the  challenge,  but 
his  counsellors  all  opposed  it.  The  herald  was  there- 
fore told  that  the  Emperor  would  take  time  to  consider 
his  proposition,  and  give  his  answer  the  next  day. 

It  was  during  this  interval  that  the  three  Dukes  suc- 
ceeded in  prevailing  upon  Charlemagne  to  pardon  Ogier, 
and  to  send  for  him  to  combat  the  puissant  enemy  who 
now  defied  him;  but  it  was  no  easy  task  to  persuade 
Ogier.  The  idea  of  his  long  imprisonment  and  the  rec- 
ollection of  his  son,  bleeding  and  dying  in  his  arms  by 
the  blow  of  the  ferocious  Chariot,  made  him  long  resist 
the  urgency  of  his  friends.  Though  glory  called  him 
to  encounter  Bruhier,  and  the  safety  of  Christendom 
demanded  the  destruction  of  this  proud  enemy  of  the 
faith,  Ogier  only  yielded  at  last  on  condition  that  Char- 
lot  should  be  delivered  into  his  hands  to  be  dealt  with 
as  he  should  see  fit. 

The  terms  were  hard,  but  the  danger  was  pressing, 
and  Charlemagne,  with  a  returning  sense  of  justice,  and 
a  strong  confidence  in  the  generous  though  passionate 
soul  of  Ogier,  at  last  consented  to  them. 

Ogier  was  led  into  the  presence  of  Charlemagne  by 
the  three  peers.  The  Emperor,  faithful  to  his  word,  had 
caused  Chariot  to  be  brought  into  the  hall  where  the  high 
barons  were  assembled,  his  hands  tied,  and  his  head 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  863 

uncovered.  When  the  Emperor  saw  Ogier  approach  he 
took  Chariot  by  the  arm,  led  him  towards  Ogier,  and 
said  these  words:  "I  surrender  the  criminal;  do  witli 
him  as  you  think  fit."  Ogier,  without  replying,  seized 
Chariot  by  the  hair,  forced  him  on  his  knees,  and  lifted 
with  the  other  hand  his  irresistible  sword.  Charlemagne, 
who  expected  to  see  the  head  of  his  son  rolling  at  his 
feet,  shut  his  eyes  and  uttered  a  cry  of  horror. 

Ogier  had  done  enough.  The  next  moment  he  raised 
Chariot,  cut  his  bonds,  kissed  him  on  the  mouth,  and 
hastened  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  Emperor. 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  surprise  and  joy  of  Charle- 
magne at  seeing  his  son  unharmed  and  Ogier  kneeling  at 
his  feet.  He  folded  him  in  his  arms,  bathed  him  with 
tears,  and  exclaimed  to  his  barons,  "I  feel  at  this  mo- 
ment that  Ogier  is  greater  than  I."  As  for  Chariot,  his 
base  soul  felt  nothing  but  the  joy  of  having  escaped 
death ;  he  remained  such  as  he  had  been,  and  it  was  not 
till  some  years  afterwards  he  received  the  punishment 
he  deserved,  from  the  hands  of  Huon  of  Bordeaux,  as 
we  have  seen  in  a  former  chapter. 


OGIER,   THE   DANE    (Continued) 

WHEN  Charlemagne  had  somewhat  recovered  his 
composure  he  was  surprised  to  observe  that  Ogier  ap- 
peared in  good  case,  and  had  a  healthy  color  in  his 
cheeks.  He  turned  to  the  Archbishop,  who  could  not  help 
blushing  as  he  met  his  eye.  "By  the  head  of  Bertha, 
my  queen/'  said  Charlemagne,  "Ogier  has  had  good 
quarters  in  your  castle,  my  Lord  Archbishop;  but  so 
much  the  more  am  I  indebted  to  you."  All  the  barons 
laughed  and  jested  with  Turpin,  who  only  said,  "Laugh 
as  much  as  you  please,  my  lords;  but  for  my  part  I 
am  not  sorry  to  see  the  arm  in  full  vigor  that  is  to 
avenge  us  on  the  proud  Saracen." 

Charlemagne  immediately  despatched  his  herald,  ac- 
cepting the  challenge,  and  appointing  the  next  day  but 


864  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

one  for  the  encounter.  The  proud  and  crafty  Bruhier 
laughed  scornfully  when  he  heard  the  reply  accepting 
his  challenge,  for  he  had  a  reliance  on  certain  resources 
besides  his  natural  strength  and  skill.  However,  he 
swore  by  Mahomet  to  observe  the  conditions  as  proposed 
and  agreed  upon. 

Ogier  now  demanded  his  armor,  and  it  was  brought 
to  him  in  excellent  condition,  for  the  good  Turpin  had 
kept  it  faithfully;  but  it  was  not  easy  to  provide  a  horse 
for  the  occasion.  Charlemagne  had  the  best  horses  of 
his  stables  brought  out,  except  Blanchard,  his  own 
charger;  but  all  in  vain,  the  weight  of  Ogier  bent  their 
backs  to  the  ground.  In  this  embarrassment  the  Arch- 
bishop remembered  that  the  Emperor  had  given  Beiffror 
to  the  Abbot  of  St.  Faron,  and  sent  off  a  courier  in  haste 
to  re-demand  him. 

Monks  are  hard  masters,  and  the  one  who  directed  the 
laborers  at  the  abbey  had  but  too  faithfully  obeyed 
the  orders  of  the  Abbot.  Poor  Beiffror  was  brought 
back,  lean,  spiritless,  and  chafed  with  the  harness  of  the 
vile  cart  that  he  had  had  to  draw  so  long.  He  carried 
his  head  down,  and  trod  heavily  before  Charlemagne ; 
but  when  he  heard  the  voice  of  Ogier  he  raised  his 
head,  he  neighed,  his  eyes  flashed,  his  former  ardor 
showed  itself  by  the  force  with  which  he  pawed  the 
ground.  Ogier  caressed  him,  and  the  good  steed  seemed 
to  return  his  caresses ;  Ogier  mounted  him,  and  Beiffror, 
proud  of  carrying  his  master  again,  leapt  and  curvetted 
with  all  his  youthful  vigor. 

Nothing  being  now  wanted,  Charlemagne,  at  the  head 
of  his  army,  marched  forth  from  the  city  of  Paris,  and 
occupied  the  hill  of  Montmartre,  whence  the  view  ex- 
tended over  the  plain  of  St.  Denis,  where  the  battle  was 
to  be  fought. 

When  the  appointed  day  came  the  Dukes  Namo  and 
Salomon,  as  seconds  of  Ogier,  accompanied  him  to  the 
place  marked  out  for  the  lists,  and  Bruhier,  with  two 
distinguished  Emirs,  presented  himself  on  the  other  side. 

Bruhier  was  in  high  spirits,  and  jested  with  his 
friends,  as  he  advanced,  upon  the  appearance  of  Beif- 
fror. "Is  that  the  horse  they  presume  to  match  with 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  865 

Maichevallee,  the  best  steed  that  ever  fed  in  the  vales 
of  Mount  Atlas?"  But  now  the  combatants,  having  met 
and  saluted  each  other,  ride  apart  to  come  together  in 
full  career.  Beiffror  flew  over  the  plain,  and  met  the 
adversary  more  than  half-way.  The  lances  of  the  two 
combatants  were  shivered  at  the  shock,  and  Bruhier  was 
astonished  to  see  almost  at  the  same  instant  the  sword 
of  Ogier  gleaming  above  his  head.  He  parried  it  with 
his  buckler,  and  gave  Ogier  a  blow  on  his  helmet,  who 
returned  it  with  another,  better  aimed  or  better  sec- 
onded by  the  temper  of  his  blade,  for  it  cut  away  part 
of  Bruhier's  helmet,  and  with  it  his  ear  and  part  of  his 
cheek.  Ogier,  seeing  the  blood,  did  not  immediately 
repeat  his  blow,  and  Bruhier  seized  the  moment  to  gallop 
off  at  one  side.  As  he  rode  he  took  a  vase  of  gold  which 
hung  at  his  saddle-bow,  and  bathed  with  its  contents 
the  wounded  part.  The  blood  instantly  ceased  to  flow, 
the  ear  and  the  flesh  were  restored  quite  whole,  and  the 
Dane  was  astonished  to  see  his  antagonist  return  to  the 
ground  as  sound  as  ever. 

Bruhier  laughed  at  his  amazement.  "Know,"  said  he, 
"that  I  possess  the  precious  balm  that  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea  used  upon  the  body  of  the  crucified  one,  whom 
you  worship.  If  I  should  lose  an  arm  I  could  restore 
it  with  a  few  drops  of  this.  It  is  useless  for  you  to 
contend  with  me.  Yield  yourself,  and,  as  you  appear 
to  be  a  strong  fellow,  I  will  make  you  first  oarsman  in 
one  of  my  galleys." 

Ogier,  though  boiling  with  rage,  forgot  not  to  implore 
the  assistance  of  Heaven.  "O  Lord!"  he  exclaimed, 
"suffer  not  the  enemy  of  thy  name  to  profit  by  the 
powerful  help  of  that  which  owes  all  its  virtue  to  thy 
divine  blood."  At  these  words  he  attacked  Bruhier 
again  with  more  vigor  than  ever;  both  struck  terrible 
blows,  and  made  grievous  wounds ;  but  the  blood  flowed 
from  those  of  Ogier,  while  Bruhier  stanched  his  by  the 
application  of  his  balm.  Ogier,  desperate  at  the  unequal 
contest,  grasped  Cortana  with  both  hands,  and  struck 
his  enemy  such  a  blow  that  it  cleft  his  buckler,  and  cut 
off  his  arm  with  it;  but  Bruhier  at  the  same  time 
launched  one  at  Ogier,  which,  missing  him,  struck  the 


866  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

head  of  Beiffror,  and  the  good  horse  fell,  and  drew 
down  his  master  in  his  fall. 

Bruhier  had  time  to  leap  to  the  ground,  to  pick  up 
his  arm  and  apply  his  balsam;  then,  before  Ogier  had 
recovered  his  footing,  he  rushed  forward  with  sword 
uplifted  to  complete  his  destruction. 

Charlemagne,  from  the  height  of  Montmartre,  seeing 
the  brave  Ogier  in  this  situation,  groaned,  and  was  ready 
to  murmur  against  Providence;  but  the  good  Turpin, 
raising  his  arms,  with  a  faith  like  that  of  Moses,  drew 
down  upon  the  Christian  warrior  the  favor  of  Heaven. 

Ogier,  promptly  disengaging  himself,  pressed  Bruhier 
with  so  much  impetuosity  that  he  drove  him  to  a  dis- 
tance from  his  horse,  to  whose  saddle-bow  the  precious 
balm  was  suspended;  and  very  soon  Charlemagne  saw 
Ogier,  now  completely  in  the  advantage,  bring  his  enemy 
to  his  knees,  tear  off  his  helmet,  and,  with  a  sweep  of 
his  sword,  strike  his  head  from  his  body. 

After  the  victory,  Ogier  seized  Marchevallee,  leaped 
upon  his  back,  and  became  possessed  of  the  precious 
flask,  a  few  drops  from  which  closed  his  wounds  and 
restored  his  strength.  The  French  knights  who  had  been 
Bruhier's  captives,  now  released,  pressed  round  Ogier  to 
thank  him  for  their  deliverance. 

Charlemagne  and  his  nobles,  as  soon  as  their  attention 
was  relieved  from  the  single  combat,  perceived  from 
their  elevated  position  an  unusual  agitation  in  the  en- 
emy's camp.  They  attributed  it  at  first  to  the  death  of 
their  general,  but  soon  the  noise  of  arms,  the  cries  of 
combatants,  and  new  standards  which  advanced,  dis- 
closed to  them  the  fact  that  Bruhier's  army  was  at- 
tacked by  a  new  enemy. 

The  Emperor  was  right;  it  was  the  brave  Carahue 
of  Mauritania,  who,  with  an  army,  had  arrived  in 
France,  resolved  to  attempt  the  liberation  of  Ogier,  his 
brother  in  arms.  Learning  on  his  arrival  the  changed 
aspect  of  affairs,  he  hesitated  not  to  render  a  signal 
service  to  the  Emperor,  by  attacking  the  army  of  Bruhier 
in  the  midst  of  the  consternation  occasioned  by  the  loss 
of  its  commander. 

Ogier  recognized  the  standard  of  his  friend,  and  leap- 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  867 

ing  upon  Marchevallee,  flew  to  aid  his  attack.  Charle- 
magne followed  with  his  army ;  and  the  Saracen  host, 
after  an  obstinate  conflict,  was  forced  to  surrender  un- 
conditionally. 

The  interview  of  Ogier  and  Carahue  was  such  as 
might  be  anticipated  of  two  such  attached  friends  and 
accomplished  knights.  Charlemagne  went  to  meet  them, 
embraced  them,  and  putting  the  King  of  Mauritania  on 
his  right  and  Ogier  on  his  left,  returned  with  triumph 
to  Paris.  There  the  Empress  Bertha  and  the  ladies  of 
her  court  crowned  them  with  laurels,  and  the  sage  and 
gallant  Eginhard,  chamberlain  and  secretary  of  the  Em- 
peror, wrote  all  these  great  events  in  his  history. 

A  few  days  after  Guyon,  King  of  Denmark,  arrived 
in  France  with  a  chosen  band  of  knights,  and  sent  an 
ambassador  to  Charlemagne,  to  say  that  he  came,  not 
as  an  enemy,  but  to  render  homage  to  him  as  the  best 
knight  of  the  time  and  the  head  of  the  Christian  world. 
Charlemagne  gave  the  ambassador  a  cordial  reception, 
and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  forward  to  meet  the  King 
of  Denmark. 

These  great  princes,  being  assembled  at  the  court  of 
Charles,  held  council  together,  and  the  ancient  and  sage 
barons  were  called  to  join  it. 

It  was  decided  that  the  united  Danish  and  Mauritanian 
armies  should  cross  the  sea  and  carry  the  war  to  the 
country  of  the  Saracens,  and  that  a  thousand  French 
knights  should  range  themselves  under  the  banner  of 
Ogier,  the  Dane,  who,  though  not  a  king,  should  have 
equal  rank  with  the  two  others. 

We  have  not  space  to  record  all  the  illustrious  ac- 
tions performed  by  Ogier  and  his  allies  in  this  war. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  they  subdued  the  Saracens  of  Ptolemais 
and  Judaea,  and,  erecting  those  regions  into  a  kingdom, 
placed  the  crown  upon  the  head  of  Ogier.  Guyon  and 
Carahue  then  left  him,  to  return  to  their  respective 
dominions.  Ogier  adopted  Walter,  the  son  of  Guyon 
of  Denmark,  to  be  his  successor  in  his  kingdom.  He 
superintended  his  education,  and  saw  the  young  prince 
grow  up  worthy  of  his  cares.  But  Ogier,  in  spite  of  all 
the  honors  of  his  rank,  often  regretted  the  court  of 


868  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Charlemagne,  the  Duke  Namo,  and  Salomon  of  Brittany, 
for  whom  he  had  the  respect  and  attachment  of  a  son. 
At  last,  rinding  Walter  old  enough  to  sustain  the  weight 
of  government,  Ogier  caused  a  vessel  to  be  prepared 
secretly,  and,  attended  only  by  one  squire,  left  his  palace 
by  night,  and  embarked  to  return  to  France. 

The  vessel,  driven  by  a  fair  wind,  cut  the  sea  with 
the  swiftness  of  a  bird ;  but  on  a  sudden  it  deviated  from 
its  course,  no  longer  obeyed  the  helm,  and  sped  fast 
towards  a  black  promontory  which  stretched  into  the  sea. 
This  was  a  mountain  of  loadstone,  and,  its  attractive 
power  increasing  as  the  distance  diminished,  the  vessel 
at  last  flew  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow  towards  it, 
and  was  dashed  to  pieces  on  its  rocky  base.  Ogier  alone 
saved  himself,  and  reached  the  shore  on  a  fragment  of 
the  wreck. 

Ogier  advanced  into  the  country,  looking  for  some 
marks  of  inhabitancy,  but  found  none.  On  a  sudden 
he  encountered  two  monstrous  animals,  covered  with 
glittering  scales,  accompanied  by  a  horse  breathing  fire. 
Ogier  drew  his  sword  and  prepared  to  defend  himself; 
but  the  monsters,  terrific  as  they  appeared,  made  no  at- 
tempt to  assail  him,  and  the  horse,  Papillon,  knelt  down, 
and  appeared  to  court  Ogier  to  mount  upon  his  back. 
Ogier  hesitated  not  to  see  the  adventure  through;  he 
mounted  Papillon,  who  ran  with  speed,  and  soon  cleared 
the  rocks  and  precipices  which  hemmed  in  and  concealed 
a  beautiful  landscape.  He  continued  his  course  till  he 
reached  a  magnificent  palace,  and,  without  allowing 
Ogier  time  to  admire  it,  crossed  a  grand  court-yard 
adorned  with  colonnades,  and  entered  a  garden,  where, 
making  his  way  through  alleys  of  myrtle,  he  checked 
his  course,  and  knelt  down  on  the  enamelled  turf  of  a 
fountain. 

Ogier  dismounted  and  took  some  steps  along  the  mar- 
gin of  the  stream,  but  was  soon  stopped  by  meeting  a 
young  beauty,  such  as  they  paint  the  Graces,  and  almost 
as  lightly  attired  as  they.  At  the  same  moment,  to  his 
amazement,  his  armor  fell  off  of  its  own  accord.  The 
young  beauty  advanced  with  a  tender  air,  and  placed 
upon  his  head  a  crown  of  flower?.  At  that  instant  the 


OGIER,  THE  DANE  869 

Danish  hero  lost  his  memory;  his  combats,  his  glory, 
Charlemagne  and  his  court,  all  vanished  from  his  mind ; 
he  saw  only  Morgana,  he  desired  nothing  but  to  sigh 
forever  at  her  feet. 

We  abridge  the  narrative  of  all  the  delights  which 
Ogier  enjoyed  for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  Time 
flew  by,  leaving  no  impression  of  its  flight.  Morgana's 
youthful  charms  did  not  decay,  and  Ogier  had  none  of 
those  warnings  of  increasing  years  which  less  favored 
mortals  never  fail  to  receive.  There  is  no  knowing  how 
long  this  blissful  state  might  have  lasted,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  an  accident,  by  which  Morgana  one  day,  in  a 
sportive  moment,  snatched  the  crown  from  his  head. 
That  moment  Ogier  regained  his  memory,  and  lost  his 
contentment.  The  recollection  of  Charlemagne,  and  of 
his  own  relatives  and  friends,  saddened  the  hours  which 
he  passed  with  Morgana.  The  fairy  saw  with  grief  the 
changed  looks  of  her  lover.  At  last  she  drew  from  him 
the  acknowledgment  that  he  wished  to  go,  at  least  for 
a  time,  to  revisit  Charles's  court.  She  consented  with 
reluctance,  and  with  her  own  hands  helped  to  reinvest 
him  with  his  armor.  Papillon  was  led  forth,  Ogier 
mounted  him,  and,  taking  a  tender  adieu  of  the  tearful 
Morgana,  crossed  at  rapid  speed  the  rocky  belt  which 
separated  Morgana's  palace  from  the  borders  of  the  sea. 

The  sea-goblins  which  had  received  him  at  his  com- 
ing awaited  him  on  the  shore.  One  of  them  took  Ogier 
on  his  back,  and  the  other  placing  himself  under  Papil- 
lon, they  spread  their  broad  fins,  and  in  a  short  time 
traversed  the  wide  space  that  separates  the  isle  of 
Avalon  from  France.  They  landed  Ogier  on  the  coast 
of  Languedoc,  and  then  plunged  into  the  sea  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Ogier  remounted  on  Papillon,  who  carried  him  across 
the  kingdom  almost  as  fast  as  he  had  passed  the  sea. 
He  arrived  under  the  walls  of  Paris,  which  he  would 
scarcely  have  recognized  if  the  high  towers  of  St. 
Genevieve  had  not  caught  his  eye.  He  went  straight 
to  the  palace  of  Charlemagne,  which  seemed  to  him  to 
have  been  entirely  rebuilt.  His  surprise  was  extreme, 
and  increased  still  more  on  finding  that  he  understood 


870  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

with  difficulty  the  language  of  the  guards  and  attendants 
in  replying  to  his  questions;  and  seeing  them  smile  as 
they  tried  to  explain  to  one  another  the  language  in 
which  he  addressed  them.  Presently  the  attention  of 
some  of  the  barons  who  were  going  to  court  was  at- 
tracted to  the  scene,  and  Ogier,  who  recognized  the 
badges  of  their  rank,  addressed  them,  and  inquired  if 
the  Dukes  Namo  and  Salomon  were  still  residing  at  the 
Emperor's  court.  At  this  question  the  barons  looked  at 
one  another  in  amazement;  and  one  of  the  eldest  said 
to  the  rest,  "How  much  this  knight  resembles  the  por- 
trait of  my  grand-uncle,  Ogier  the  Dane."  "Ah!  my 
dear  nephew,  I  am  Ogier  the  Dane,"  said  he;  and  he 
remembered  that  Morgana  had  told  him  that  he  was 
little  aware  of  the  flight  of  time  during  his  abode  with 
her. 

The  barons,  more  astonished  than  ever,  concluded  to 
conduct  him  to  the  monarch  who  then  reigned,  the  great 
Hugh  Capet. 

The  brave  Ogier  entered  the  palace  without  hesita- 
tion; but  when,  on  reaching  the  royal  hall,  the  barons 
directed  him  to  make  his  obeisance  to  the  King  of 
France,  he  was  astonished  to  see  a  man  of  short  stature 
and  large  head,  whose  air,  nevertheless,  was  noble  and 
martial,  seated  upon  the  throne  on  which  he  had  so  often 
seen  Charlemagne,  the  tallest  and  handsomest  sovereign 
of  his  time. 

Ogier  recounted  his  adventures  with  simplicity  and 
unaffectedness.  Hugh  Capet  was  slow  to  believe  him; 
but  Ogier  recalled  so  many  proofs  and  circumstances, 
that  at  last  he  was  forced  to  recognize  the  aged  warrior 
to  be  the  famous  Ogier  the  Dane. 

The  king  informed  Ogier  of  the  events  which  had 
taken  place  during  his  long  absence;  that  the  line  of 
Charlemagne  was  extinct ;  that  a  new  dynasty  had  com- 
menced; that  the  old  enemies  of  the  kingdom,  the  Sara- 
cens, were  still  troublesome;  and  that  at  that  very  time 
an  army  of  those  miscreants  was  besieging  the  city  of 
Chartres,  to  which  he  was  about  to  repair  in  a  few  days 
to  its  relief.  Ogier,  always  inflamed  with  the  love  of 
glory,  offered  the  service  of  his  arm,  which  the  illus- 


OG1ER,  THE  DANE  871 

trious  monarch  accepted  graciously,  and  conducted  him 
to  the  queen.  The  astonishment  of  Ogier  was  redoubled 
when  he  saw  the  new  ornaments  and  head-dresses  of  the 
ladies;  still,  the  beautiful  hair  which  they  built  up  on 
their  foreheads,  and  the  feathers  interwoven,  which 
waved  with  so  much  grace,  gave  them  a  noble  air  that 
delighted  him.  His  admiration  increased  when,  instead 
of  the  old  Empress  Bertha,  he  saw  a  young  queen  who 
combined  a  majestic  mien  with  the  graces  of  her  time 
of  life,  and  manners  candid  and  charming,  suited  to  at- 
tach all  hearts.  Ogier  saluted  the  youthful  queen  with 
a  respect  so  profound  that  many  of  the  courtiers  took 
him  for  a  foreigner,  or  at  least  for  some  nobleman, 
brought  up  at  a  distance  from  Paris,  who  retained  the 
manners  of  what  they  called  the  old  court. 

When  the  queen  was  informed  by  her  husband  that 
it  was  the  celebrated  Ogier  the  Dane  whom  he  pre- 
sented to  her,  whose  memorable  exploits  she  had  often 
read  in  the  chronicles  of  antiquity,  her  surprise  was 
extreme,  which  was  increased  when  she  remarked  the 
dignity  of  his  address,  the  animation  and  even  the  youth- 
fulness  of  his  countenance.  This  queen  had  too  much 
intelligence  to  believe  hastily;  proof  alone  could  compel 
her  assent ;  and  she  asked  him  many  questions  about  the 
old  court  of  Charlemagne,  and  received  such  instructive 
and  appropriate  answers  as  removed  every  doubt.  It  is 
to  the  corrections  which  Ogier  was  at  that  time  enabled 
to  make  to  the  popular  narratives  of  his  exploits  that 
we  are  indebted  for  the  perfect  accuracy  and  trust- 
worthiness of  all  the  details  of  our  own  history. 

King  Hugh  Capet,  having  received  that  same  even- 
ing couriers  from  the  inhabitants  of  Chartres,  informing 
him  that  they  were  hard  pressed  by  the  besiegers,  re- 
solved to  hasten  with  Ogier  to  their  relief. 

Ogier  terminated  this  affair  as  expeditiously  as  he 
had  so  often  done  others.  The  Saracens  having  dared 
to  offer  battle,  he  bore  the  Oriflamme  through  the  thick- 
est of  their  ranks ;  Papillon,  breathing  fire  from  his  nos- 
trils, threw  them  into  disorder,  and  Cortana,  wielded  by 
his  invincible  arm,  soon  finished  their  overthrow. 

The  king,  victorious  over  the  Saracens,  led  back  the 


872  LEGENDS  OF  CHARLEMAGNE 

Danish  hero  to  Paris,  where  the  deliverer  of  France  re- 
ceived the  honors  due  to  his  valor.  Ogier  continued 
some  time  at  the  court,  detained  by  the  favor  of  the 
king  and  queen;  but  erelong  he  had  the  pain  to  witness 
the  death  of  the  king.  Then  it  was  that,  impressed  with 
all  the  perfections  which  he  had  discerned  in  the  queen, 
he  could  not  withhold  the  tender  homage  of  the  offer 
of  his  hand.  The  queen  would  perhaps  have  accepted 
it,  she  had  even  called  a  meeting  of  her  great  barons 
to  deliberate  on  the  proposition,  when,  the  day  before  the 
meeting  was  to  be  held,  at  the  moment  when  Ogier  was 
kneeling  at  her  feet,  she  perceived  a  crown  of  gold  which 
an  invisible  hand  had  placed  on  his  brow,  and  in  an 
instant  a  cloud  enveloped  Ogier,  and  he  disappeared  for- 
ever from  her  sight.  It  was  Morgana,  the  fairy,  whose 
jealousy  was  awakened  at  what  she  beheld,  who  now 
resumed  her  power,  and  took  him  away  to  dwell  with 
her  in  the  island  of  Avalon.  There,  in  company  with 
the  great  King  Arthur  of  Britain,  he  still  lives,  and 
when  his  illustrious  friend  shall  return  to  resume  his 
ancient  reign  he  will  doubtless  return  with  him,  and 
share  his  triumph. 


PROVERBIAL  EXPRESSIONS 

No.   1.     Page   39. 

MATERIEM  superabat  opus. — Ovid. 
The  workmanship  surpassed  the   material. 

No.  2.     Page   39. 

Facies  non  omnibus  una, 
Nee  diversa  tamen,  qualem  decet  esse  sororum. 

—Ovid. 

Their  faces  were  not  all  alike,  nor  yet  unlike,  but  such  as  those 
of  sisters  ought  to  be. 

No.  3.     Page   42. 
Medio  tutissimus  ibis. — Ovid. 
You  will  go  most  safely  in  the  middle. 

No.  4.     Page  45. 

Hie  situs  est  Phaeton,  currns  auriga  paterni, 
Quern  si  non  tenuit,  magnis  tamen  excidit  ausis. 

— Ovid. 

Here  lies  Phaeton,  the  driver  of  his  father's  chariot,  which  if 
he  failed  to  manage,  yet  he  fell  in  a  great  undertaking. 

No.  5.     Page   123. 

Imponere  Pelio  Ossam. — Virgil. 
To  pile  Ossa  upon  Pelion. 

No.  6.     Page  230. 

Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes. — Virgil. 

I   fear  the  Greeks   even  when  they  offer  gifts. 

No.  7.     Page  232. 

Non  tali  auxilio  nee  defensoribus  istis 
Tempus  eget. — Virgil. 
Not  such  aid  nor  such  defenders  does  the  time  require. 

No.  8.     Page  245. 

Incidit  in   Scyllam,  cupiens  vitare  Charybdim. 

He  runs  on  Scylla,  wishing  to  avoid  Charybdis. 

873 


874  PROVERBIAL  EXPRESSIONS 

No.  9.     Page  260. 

Monstrum  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademptum 

—Virgil 

A  horrible  monster,  misshapen,  vast,  whose  only  eye  has  been 
put  out. 

No.  10.     Page  261. 

Tantaene  animis  coelestibus  irae? — Virgil. 
In  heavenly  minds  can  such  resentments  dwell? 

No.  11.     Page  263. 

Haud  ignara  mali,  miseris  succurrere  disco. — Virgil. 
Not  unacquainted  with  distress,  I  have  learned  to  succor  thft 
unfortunate. 

No.  12      Page  263 

Tros,  Tyriusve  mihi  nullo  discrimine  agetur. — Virgil. 
Whether  Trojan  or  Tyrian  shall  make  no  difference  to  me. 

No.   13.     Page  265. 

Tu  ne  cede  malis,  sed  contra  audentior  ito. — Virgil. 
Yield  thou  not  to  adversity,  but  press  on  the  more  bravely. 

No.   14.     Page  265. 

Facilis  descensus  Averni ; 
Noctes  atque  dies  patet  atri  janua  Ditis; 
Sed  revocare  gradum,  superasque  evadere  ad  auras, 
Hoc  opus,  hie  labor  est. — Virgil. 

The  descent  of  Avernus  is  easy;  the  gate  of  Pluto  stands  open 
night  and  day;  but  to  retrace  one's  steps  and  return  to  the  upper 
air — that  is  the  toil,  that  the  difficulty. 

No.  15.     Page  265. 

Uno  avulso  non  deficit  alter. — Virgil. 
When  one  is  torn  away  another  succeeds. 

No.  16.     Page  282. 

Quadrupendante  putrum  sonitu  quatit  ungula  campum. — Virgil 
Then  struck  the  hoofs  of  the  steeds  on  the  ground  with  a  four- 
footed  trampling. 

No.  17.     Page  285. 

Sternitur  infelix  alieno  vulnere,  ccelumque 
Adspicit  et  moriens  dulces  reminiscitur  Argos. — Virgil 
He  falls,  unhappy,  by  a  wound  intended  for  another;  looks  up 
to  the  skies,  and  dying  remembers  sweet  Argos. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES 

QUOTED  FROM  THE  POETS 

P\GR 

Addison  (attributed  to) 304 

Armstrong 22,  117,  175 

Arnold,  Matthew 391 

Boiardo 456,458,459 

Browning,  Mrs   E    B 168 

Rulfmch,  Rev    S.  G 45,  63,  149 

Byron 7,  18,  19,  20,  38,  75,  94,  106,  114,  143,  175,  198, 

203,  207,  231,  235,  236,  246,  292,  300,  305, 

307,  319 

Campbell  137,  364 

Chaucer  414,  416,  417,  550 

Coleridge  58 

v-owper  4,  104,  192,  221,  300,  304,  308 

Darwin  158,  209 

Drayton    400 

Dryden 48,  211,  290,  308,  312 

Dyer  133,  233 

Fletcher 205 

Francklin   184 

Garrick    Ill 

Goldsmith  104 

Gray    8,  344,  350,  530,  532 

Harvey   90 

Hemans  362 

Homer    3,  246,  252,  253,  255,  304 

Hood 57,  105 

Keats  31,  62,  65,  68,  76,  91,  106,  204,  243 

Landor 46 

Longfellow  161,  206,  291,  336 

Lowell 33,  172,  181,  273,  292,  492,  505 

Lucan  313 

Macaula>    11,  159 

»875 


876     LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES 

PAGE 

Mickle 25 

Milman  45,  122 

Milton 3,  5,  6,  18,  33,  34,  38,  57,  67,  68,  75,  90,  94,  103, 

104,  117,  120,  126,  128,  129,  146,  148,  165,  167. 

168,  174,  176,  179,  181,  192,  194,  233,  235,  245. 

274,  291,  296,  299,  302,  312,  328,  380,  382 

Moore 2,  25,  28,  58,  91,  105,  115,  134,  143,  293,  320,  364 

Nibelungen   Lied    353 

Ovid  310 

Percy 420 

Pope  15,  133,  188,  221,  227,  287,  304 

Schiller    63,  149 

Scott 264,  359,  365,  377 

Shakspeare  5,  127,  137,  290,  291 

Shelley  23,  36,  150,  314 

Southey  188 

Spenser  8,  110,  166,  198,  389,  393,  467,  478 

Swift    51,231 

Tennyson   Ill,  150,   175,  207,  214,  237,  257,  300,  390,  3%. 

398,   403,   415,   435,   444,   462,   486,   489,  503, 

508,  512,  515,  517,  521,  556,  558,  566,  572,  578 

Thomson    80,  305 

Tickell   304 

Veda,  Rig 636 

Waller 22,  262 

Warton 395 

Wordsworth   167,  215,  302,  319 

Young 126,  176,  205,  275,  318 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


The  endeavor  to  develop  the  Index  of  this  book  into  a  Concise  Mytho- 
logical Dictionary  has  given  it  independent  importance.  It  remains  lim- 
ited to  items  occurring  in  the  text,  but  within  the  individual  entries  it 
seemed  often  expedient  to  supply  information  beyond  that  given  by 
Bulfmch,  and,  occasionally,  even  to  contradict  him.  The  usefulness  of 
the  Dictionary  as  an  Index  was  increased  wherever  possible  by  the 
distribution  of  page  references  to  appropriate  places  throughout  the 
Dictionary  articles.  In  order  to  distinguish  them  from  dates  and  other 
numerals,  the  page  references  are  given  in  brackets.  For  clarity's  sake 
they  are  repeated  in  numerical  order  at  the  end  of  all  the  more  involved 
entries.  A.  G. 

Jebel  Musa  or  Ape's  Hill,  form- 
ing the  northwestern  extremity 
of  the  African  coast  opposite 
Gibraltar.  It  is  one  of  the  Pil- 
lars of  Hercules  [145],  the  other 
being  the  promontory  of  Calpe. 
Also  referred  to  as  Abyla  Mons 
and  Abyla  Columna. 

A-bys-sin'i  a.  A  part  of  Ethi- 
opia. In  the  legends  of  Charle- 
magne, ruled  by  King  Senapus, 
the  gracious  host  of  Astolpho 
[770]. 

A-ces'tes  (Greek  Ae-ges'tes). 
The  son  of  a  rivergod  and  a 
Trojan  woman  who  was  sent  to 
Sicily  so  that  she  might  not  be 
devoured  by  wild  monsters  that 
infested  the  territory  of  Troy. 
Later  he  was  the  host  of  Aeneas 
[264]  who  built  the  city  of  Aeges- 
ta  [283]  in  his  honor. 

A'ce'tes.  Bacchanal  captured  by 
Pentheus,  the  king  of  Thebes 
[162-164]. 

A-cha'tes.  The  faithful  friend 
and  companion  of  Aeneas  [281]. 
In  Vergil's  Aeneid  he  is  often 
called  fidus  Achates,  "faithful 
Achates." 

Ach  •  e  •  lo'us.   God  of  the  river  of 


Ab  •  dal  •  rah'man,  see  ABD-ER- 
RAHMAN. 

Abd-er-Rah  man'  (Arabic,  liter- 
ally, "servant  of  the  merciful 
one")  (died  732).  Saracen  chief- 
tain who  invaded  France  with  a 
large  army  in  732  [648]  and  was 
defeated  and  slain  in  the  same 
year  by  Charles  Martel  not  far 
from  Tours  [649]. 

Ab'er  •  f  raw.  Scene  of  the  nuptials 
of  Bran  wen  and  Matholch  [590]. 

Ab  •  syr'tus.  The  younger  brother 
of  Medea.  She  (or,  according  to 
a  variant  of  the  legend,  Jason) 
killed  Absyrtus,  cut  his  body  in 
pieces  and  threw  the  fragments 
into  the  sea  to  cause  her  father 
Aetes  to  interrupt  his  pursuit  of 
the  Argonauts  in  their  flight 
from  Colchis  [137]. 

A-by'dos.  A  town  on  the  Asian 
side  of  the  Hellespont,  nearly 
opposite  to  Sestos.  It  was  the 
home  of  Leander  [105]  and  is 
also  noted  as  the  site  of  the 
Bridge  of  Xerxes. 

Ab'ybu  A  promontory  in  Mo- 
rocco, near  Ceuta,  now  called 


877 


878 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


the  same  name,  the  largest  in 
Greece  [177].  He  could  assume 
various  forms.  While  fighting 
Hercules  as  a  bull,  he  lost  one  of 
his  horns  which  the  naiads  trans- 
formed into  the  Horn  of  Plenty 
[178-179]. 

A -chines.  The  son  of  Peleus 
[138]  and  the  Nereid  Thetis 
[173],  and  king  of  the  Myrmi- 
dons [95],  a  Thessalian  tribe.  He 
is  the  hero  of  Homer's  Iliad 
[216-227]  and  became  the  proto- 
type of  the  Greeks'  conception 
of  manly  valor  and  beauty.  He 
took  part  in  the  Trojan  War  on 
the  side  of  the  Greeks  [212-214] 
as  their  most  illustrious  warrior, 
and  slew  the  Trojan  hero  Hector. 
Achilles  had  been  dipped  in  the 
Styx  by  his  mother,  which  ren- 
dered him  invulnerable  except 
in  the  heel  by  which  she  held 
him  and  where  he  was  fatally 
wounded  by  an  arrow  shot  by 
Paris,  Hector's  younger  brother 
[228],  or,  according  to  another 
version  of  the  story,  by  the  god 
Apollo  who  had  assumed  Paris' 
shape.  [95,  138,  173-174,  208, 
212-214,  216-228,  232-233] 

A'cis.  A  handsome  Sicilian  youth, 
son  of  Faunus  and  the  naiad 
Symaethis,  lover  of  Galatea, 
who  was  killed  by  his  rival,  the 
Cyclops  Polyphemus.  The  blood 
flowing  forth  from  Acis'  body 
changed  into  water  and  formed 
the  river  Acis  [209-211]. 

A  -con'te  •  us.  A  friend  of  Perseus, 
changed  into  stone  by  the  sight 
of  the  Gorgon's  head  [121]. 

A*cris'i'us.  King  of  Argos,  father 
of  Danae.  An  oracle  having  pre- 
dicted that  his  grandson  would 
be  the  cause  of  his  death,  he 
ordered  Danae  and  her  son 
Perseus  to  be  confined  in  a  chest 
and  set  adrift  on  the  sea  [116, 
202]. 

Ac'tae'on.    A  celebrated  hunts- 


man, son  of  Aristaeus  and  Au- 
tonoe,  the  daughter  of  Cadmou 
[94].  Having  seen  Diana  bath- 
ing, he  was  changed  by  her  into 
a  stag  and  torn  to  pieces  by  his 
own  dogs  [34-36]. 

Ad-me'ta.  The  daughter  of  Eu- 
rystheus.  It  was  for  her  that 
Hercules,  in  one  of  his  "twelve 
labors,"  had  to  procure  the 
Amazon  Hippoly  ta's  girdle  [144]. 

Ad* me' tug.  A  king  of  Theswily. 
When  Zeus  wanted  to  punish 
Apollo,  he  made  him  for  one 
year  a  servant  to  Admetus  [180]. 
With  Apollo's  help  Adrnetus 
won  the  hand  of  Alcestis,  the 
daughter  of  Pelias.  Later  he 
was  saved  from  death  by  her 
willingness  to  die  in  his  place 
[180-181]. 

A'don'is.  A  beautiful  youth,  be- 
loved by  Venus  [65-67].  When 
he  was  killed  by  a  wild  l>oar, 
Venus  changed  his  blood  into 
the  flower  [67]  which  is  still 
called  Adonis  after  him. 

A'dras'tus.  A  king  of  Argos,  the 
father-in-law  of  Polynices,  in 
support  of  whose  claim  to  the 
throne  of  Thebes  he  became  a 
leader  of  the  expedition  known 
as  that  of  the  "Seven  against 
Thebes"  [182-184]. 

Ae'a*cus.  The  son  of  Zeus  and 
Aegina  and  king  of  the  island 
to  which  his  mother  had  given 
her  name.  He  was  the  ruler  of 
the  Myrmidons  whom  Zeus  had 
created  for  him  out  of  ants  to 
people  his  island  after  it  had 
been  stricken  by  the  plague  [95- 
98].  His  son  Peleus  became  the 
father  of  Achilles. 

Ae*ae'a.  The  island  of  the  en- 
chantress Circe  who  changed 
Ulysses'  companions  into  swine 
[241]. 

Ae-e'tes.  King  of  Colchis  and 
father  of  Medea  and  Absyrtus. 
He  was  in  possession  of  the 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


879 


Golden  Fleece  which  the  Argo- 
nauts set  out  to  take  away  from 
him  [130-132,  137]. 

Ae-ge'an  Islands.  Islands  in  the 
Aegean  Sea,  including  the  Cy- 
clades,  Sporades,  and  Dodeca- 
nese [38]. 

Ae-ge'an  Sea.  Part  of  the  Medi- 
terranean between  Greece  and 
Turkey  [73,  133]. 

Ae-ge'us.  A  king  of  Athens  and 
the  father  of  Theseus  Believing 
his  son  lost  upon  an  expedition 
to  free  the  country  from  the  hu- 
man tiibute  exacted  by  the 
Minotaur,  he  threw  himself  into 
the  Aegean  Sea,  whence  the 
name  [136,  150-152]. 

Ae*gi'na.  An  island  of  Greece  in 
the  Saronic  gulf,  home  of  the 
Myrmidons  [95]. 

Ae'gis.  The  shield  or  breastplate 
of  Jupiter  [5]  made  by  Vulcan. 
It  became  the  characteristic  at- 
tribute of  Minerva  [109]  who 
fixed  the  Gorgon's  head  [116]  in 
its  center.  [5,  109,  116] 

Ae*gis'thu*.  Lover  of  Clytem- 
nestra  and  murderer  of  her  hus- 
band Agamemnon.  He  was 
slain  in  his  turn  by  Agamem- 
non's son  Orestes.  [234] 

Ae-ne'as.  A  Trojan  hero  [213, 
221-223],  the  son  of  AnehUes 
arid  Venus.  He  is  the  hero  of 
Virgil's  AeneM  [258-287,  307] 
which  describes  his  exploits  after 
the  fall  of  Troy  until  his  arrival 
in  Italy.  He  is  revered  as  the 
ancestral  hero  of  the  Romans. 
[61,  213,  221-223,  258-287,  307, 
379] 

Ac -tie' id.  An  epic  poem  by  Virgil 
relating  the  wanderings  of  Ae- 
neas from  Troy  to  Italy  [307]. 

Ae'o-lus.  King  of  the  Aeolian 
islands  [301],  father  of  Halcyone 
[69] ;  appointed  by  Jupiter  keeper 
of  the  winds  and  Inter  consid- 
ered to  be  the  wind  god.  He  re- 
ceives Ulysses  hospitably  and 


gives  him,  tied  up  and  made 
harmless  in  a  leather  bag,  all  the 
ill  winds  which  are  later  let  out 
by  his  companions.  [69,  75,  240, 
261,  301] 

Aes  cu  la'pi-iis.  The  god  of 
medicine.  Son  of  Apollo  and 
Coronis  and  father  of  Machaon 
[218].  His  foster  father  was  the 
Centaur  Chiron  [127].  He  be- 
came a  great  healer,  able  to  re- 
store life  to  the  dead  [154]. 
Alarmed  by  this,  Pluto,  the  lord 
of  the  realm  of  the  dead,  induced 
Zeus  to  kill  him  [179-180].  At 
the  request  of  Apollo  he  was 
placed  among  the  stars.  His 
oracles  [298]  on  earth  were  nu- 
merous. [127,  154,  174,  179-180, 
2 IS,  298] 

Ae'son.  Father  of  Jason;  step- 
brother of  Pelias  in  whose  favor 
he  relinquished  his  share  of  the 
kingdom  of  Thessaly  during 
Jason's  minority  [130].  Rejuve- 
nated by  Medea  [134-136]. 

Ac  •  thi  •  o'pi  •  ans,  see  ETHIOPIANS. 

Ae'thra.  Mother  of  Theseus  by 
Aegeus.  [150,  151] 

Aet'na.  Volcano  in  Sicily.  The 
Titans  were  buried  alive  under 
Mount  Aetna  [52,  122];  it  was 
there  that  the  Cyclopes  [180] 
had  their  workshop.  [43,  52,  122, 
180,  210] 

A-ga-me'des.  Brother  of  Tro- 
phonius.  Together  they  built 
the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi 
and  a  treasury  for  king  Hyrieus. 
Agamedea  was  caught  stealing 
part  of  the  king's  treasure  and 
killed  by  his  brother  who  feared 
being  discovered  as  an  accom- 
plice [297-298]. 

A-ga-mem'non.  King  of  My- 
cenae, brother  of  Menelaus  and 
leader  of  the  Greek  expedition 
against  Troy  [213].  Because  ot 
hia  refusal  to  release  Chryseis 
[216],  Achilles  withdrew  from 
the  fight  [216-217].  Things  went 


880 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


bad  for  the  Greeks.  Agamem- 
non, like  most  of  the  other  lead- 
ers, was  wounded  [219],  but 
finally  he  managed  to  reconcile 
Achilles  [222].  After  the  return 
of  the  victorious  Greek  army, 
Agamemnon  was  killed  [233- 
234]  by  his  wife's,  Clytemnes- 
tra's,  lover  Aegisthus.  [213, 
216-217,  219,  222,  233-234] 

A'ga've.  Daughter  of  Cadmus, 
wife  of  Echion,  and  mother  of 
Pentheus,  king  of  Thebes,  whom 
she  destroyed  in  a  frenzy  [164]. 

A'ge'nor.  A  king  of  Phoenicia, 
whose  daughter  Europa  was  car- 
ried away  by  Jupiter  disguised 
as  a  bull  [91].  Agenor  is  also  the 
name  of  a  Trojan  warrior,  son  of 
Priam,  who  encountered  Achilles 
[223]. 

Ag-la'i-a.  One  of  the  three 
Graces  [8].  Her  name  signifies 
brilliance. 

Ag'ni.  In  Hindu  mythology,  the 
god  of  fire.  He  represents  the 
trinity  lightning,  sun,  and  earthly 
fire;  dwelling  among  men,  he 
mediates  between  them  and  the 
gods  [321]. 

Ag'ra-mant.  In  Orlando  Inna- 
morato  by  Boiardo  and  Orlando 
Furioso  by  Ariosto,  the  king  of 
Africa  who  carried  the  war 
against  Charlemagne  into  France 
[693].  In  an  encounter  with 
Oliver  [786-787]  he  was  seriously 
wounded.  [693,  695-696,  779, 
781,  784-787] 

Ag'ri'can.  In  Boiardo's  Orlando 
Innamorato,  a  king  of  Tatary,  in 
love  with  Angelica,  but  finally 
killed  by  his  rival  Orlando  who 
baptized  him  in  a  climactic  scene 
of  reconciliation  [676-683]. 

Ag'ri'vain.  One  of  King  Arthur's 
knights  [404],  brother  of  Sir 
Gawain  [414],  who  betrayed  Sir 
Launcelot  and  the  queen  to  the 
king  [507-508].  His  other  broth- 


ers were  Gahariet  and  Gareth, 
[404,  414,  435,  507-508]. 

Ah'ri  •  man.  In  Zoroastrianism, 
the  principle  of  evil,  sprung  from 
Eternity  together  with  his  op- 
ponent Ormazd  or  conceived  as 
the  product  of  a  moment  of 
weakness  on  the  part  of  Ormazd. 
Ahriman  is  not  eternal  and  will 
be  overcome  by  Ormazd,  the 
principle  of  goodness  and  light, 
with  the  assistance  of  man  [318]. 

A'jax  (Gr.  Aias).  Son  of  Telamon 
[138];  as  a  hero  in  the  Trojan 
War  second  only  to  Achilles 
[213].  He  was  sent  to  placate 
Achilles  after  the  latter's  quar- 
rel with  Agamemnon  [217].  He 
had  an  undecided  encounter 
with  the  Trojan  hero  Hector 
[217]  and  later  defended  and 
rescued  the  bodies  of  Patroclus 
[221]  and  Achilles  [228].  He  died 
by  his  own  hand  after  having 
seen  the  coveted  armor  of 
Achilles  go  to  Ulysses  [228]. 
From  his  blood  sprang  the  Hya- 
cinth, which  bears  the  letters 
"ai"  on  its  leaves,  the  first  let- 
ters of  his  name  and  also  the 
Greek  for  "woe."  [138,  213,  217, 
219,  221,  228] 

Al'ba.  The  river  where  King 
Arthur  fought  the  Romans  [409]. 

Al'ba  Lon'ga.  A  town  in  Latium, 
traditionally  founded  by  Asca- 
nius  [287],  the  son  of  Aeneas 
and,  under  the  name  of  lulus, 
the  ancestor  of  the  Roman  Julii. 

Al'ba  -nact.  Mythical  son  of 
Brut,  descendant  of  Aeneas. 
From  his  name  is  derived  Al- 
bania or  Albany,  the  ancient 
name  of  the  Scottish  Highlands 
[381]. 

Al'ber-ich.  King  of  the  dwarfs 
and  chief  of  the  Nibelungs. 
Guardian  of  the  Rhinegold 
treasure  [354-356]. 

Al'brac'ca.  A  castle  of  Cathay, 
during  the  siege  of  which  Or- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


881 


lando,  madly  in  love  with  An- 
gelica, killed  his  rival  Agricane 
[672-683]. 

Al'ces'tis.  Daughter  of  Pelias, 
wife  of  Admetua  who  had  won 
her  by  driving  a  chariot  drawn 
by  lions  and  boars.  When  Ad- 
metus  fell  ill,  Alcestis  saved  his 

.  life  by  agreeing  to  die  in  his 
stead  [180].  Hercules  saved  her 
by  laying  in  wait  for  Death 
whom  he  forced  to  abandon  his 
prey  [181].  According  to  an- 
other version,  Persephone  re- 
leased her  from  the  underworld. 

Al-ci'des.  A  patronymic  of  Her- 
cules [148-149],  derived  from  the 
name  of  his  ancestor  Alcaeus. 

Al-ci'na.  In  Boiardo's  and  Ari- 
osto's  Orlando  poems,  a  powerful 
enchantress,  the  embodiment  of 
carnality,  sister  of  Legist  ilia 
(Reason)  and  Morgana  (Lasci- 
viousness) .  When  she  grew  tired 
of  her  conquests,  she  changed 
them  into  trees,  fountains,  rocks. 
Astolpho  was  changed  by  her 
into  a  myrtle  [723].  Rogero  fell 
also  under  her  charm  [726-727]. 
He  was  saved  by  Melissa  [728- 
729]  and  Alcma's  real  senility 
and  ugliness  were  made  appar- 
ent by  means  of  a  magic  ring 
[731]. 

Al-ci'no  us.  King  of  the  Phae»- 
cians  on  the  island  of  Scheria, 
son  of  Nausithous  and  father  of 
Nausicaa  [248,  250,  252].  Books 
VI  to  XIII  of  the  Odyssey  are 
devoted  to  an  account  of  Ulysses' 
stay  in  his  kingdom. 

Al  'cip'pe.  Daughter  of  Mars  car- 
ried off  by  Halirrhothius  [139]. 

Alc'rne'na.  The  wife  of  Amphi- 
tryon, mother  of  Hercules  by 
Jupiter  [143],  who  assumed  Am- 
phitryon's shape  and  visited  her 
during  her  husband's  absence. 

Al'cu*in.  Sometimes  called  Al- 
binus  (753-804).  Christian  the- 
ologian and  teacher,  born  at 


York,  who  spent  most  of  his  life 
as  director  of  Charlemagne's 
famous  Palace  School  and  led  in 
reform  of  texts  and  calligraphy 
[654-655]. 

A-lec'to.  Literally,  she  who  rests 
not.  One  of  the  Furies  [9].  She 
was  beat  by  Juno  to  stir  up  dis- 
cord among  the  Trojans  [277], 

A-le-man'nus.  Son  of  Hibtion, 
grandson  of  Japhet,  great- 
grandson  of  Noah,  and  ancestor 
of  the  German  people  [379]. 

Alexander  the  Great  (356-323 
B.C.).  King  of  Macedonia,  one 
of  the  world's  greatest  conquer- 
ors. He  cut  the  Gordian  knot 
with  his  sword  and  claimed  so  to 
have  complied  with  the  terms  of 
the  prophecy  which  said  that  he 
should  become  lord  over  all  Asia 
who  had  untied  the  knot  with 
which  Gordius  had  fastened  his 
wagon  [48]. 

Al-fa'dur.  Literally,  all-father. 
In  Norse  mythology,  an  appella- 
tion of  the  Supreme  Being. 
After  Ragnarok  he  will  cause  a 
new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  to 
arise  out  of  the  sea  [349].  He  is 
often  identified  with  Odin  [330]. 

Alf'heim.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  home  of  the  light  elves.  It 
was  near  the  well  of  the  Noras 
at  the  foot  of  the  ash  Yggdrasill, 
in  the  domain  of  Frey,  the  sun 
god.  Here  the  elves  were  sport' 
ing  in  eternal  light  [348]. 
Al'ice.  Mother  of  Huon  and 
Girard,  sons  of  the  Duke  Sevinua 
[826-827]. 
allegorical  theory  of  the  origin 

of  mythology  [301]. 
Al-phe'nor.    One  of  the  sons  of 

Niobe  [113]. 

Al'phe'us.  The  son  of  Oceanus 
and  Tethys.  In  love  with  the 
nymph  Arethusa,  he  pursued 
her,  whom  Diana  had  changed 
into  a  fountain,  through  the 
lower  parts  of  the  earth.  To  do 


882 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


this  he  became  the  river  Alpheus 
[56-57]  which  is  the  modern 
Rufia.  When  Hercules  tried  to 
clean  the  Augean  stables  he  led 
the  rivers  Alpheus  and  Peneus 
through  them  [144]. 

Al-thae'a.  The  mother  of  Mele- 
ager,  whom  she  slew  because  he 
had  in  a  quarrel  killed  her 
brothers,  thus  disgracing  "the 
house  of  Thestius,"  her  father 
[138-140]. 

Am  •  al  •  thae'a  or  Amalthea. 
The  goat  whose  milk  was  fed  by 
the  daughters  of  the  Cretan 
King  Melisseus  to  the  infant 
Jupiter  [179].  One  of  the  legends 
explaining  the  origin  of  the  horn 
of  plenty  relates  that  Jupiter 
broke  off  one  of  the  horns  of  the 
goat,  endowed  it  \vith  magic 
powers,  and  gave  it  to  his  nurses. 

A-ma'ta.  Wife  of  Latinus,  at  the 
request  of  Juno  driven  mad  by 
Alec  to  and  roused  to  oppose  the 
alliance  of  Aeneas  with  her  hus- 
band [277]. 

Am'au*ry  of  Hauteville.  False- 
hearted knight  of  Charlemagne 
[825-830  j. 

Am'a-zons.  A  word  of  unknown 
origin,  interpreted  by  the  Greeks 
as  signifying  "without  breast." 
A  legendary  race  of  warlike 
women,  forming  a  state  from 
which  men  were  excluded,  and 
dwelling  on  the  coast  of  the 
Black  Sea.  Many  Greek  heroes 
got  involved  with  them.  One  of 
Hercules'  labors  was  the  task  to 
fetch  the  girdle  of  the  Amazon 
Queen  Hyppolita,  whom  he  had 
to  kill  in  the  process  [144-145]. 
Theseus  carried  off  the  Amazon 
Queen  Antiope  and  had  to  give 
battle  to  her  female  warriors  in 
the  heart  of  Athens  [153].  Achil- 
les slew  the  Amazon  Queen  Pen- 
thesilea  who  had  come  to  the 
assistance  of  the  Trojans. 


am  •  bro'si  •  a.   Celestial  food  used 

by  the  gods  [3], 
A'men,    A'mun,    or    Am'mon. 

The  supreme  King  of  the  Gods 
among  the  Egyptians,  usually 
figured  as  a  man  with  two  long 
plumes  rising  straight  above  his 
head  He  was  the  patron  of 
Thebes.  His  oracle  was  at  the 
oasis  of  Jupiter  Ammon,  and  ho 
was  identified  by  the  Greeks 
with  Zeus  [123,  290]. 

A-mejr'i-ca.  As  a  continent, 
which  may  have  been  sighted  by 
ancient  mariners,  possibly  at  the 
base  of  the  legend  of  the  happy 
island  of  Atlantis  [273]. 

Am'mon,  see  AMEN. 

Am-phi-a  ra'u*.  The  sooth- 
sayer of  Argos  who  foretold  ca- 
lamity for  the  expedition  of  the 
"Seven  against  Thebes."  He 
was  pursued  by  his  enemies  and, 
due  to  Jupiter's  intervention, 
was  swallowed  up  by  the  earth 
[182]. 

Am-phi'on.  By  Jupiter,  son  of 
queen  Antiope  of  Thebes;  twin 
brother  of  Zethus.  Exposed  at 
birth  on  Mount  Cithaeron  by 
the  usurping  king  Lycus  and  hi.s 
wife  Dirce,  Amphion  and  Zethus 
were  later  summoned  to  her  as- 
sistance by  their  mother.  They 
slew  Lycus  and  had  a  bull  drag 
Dirce  to  death.  Mercury  gave 
Amphion  a  lyre  and  taught  him 
to  become  a  great  musician  [192- 
193].  His  play  moved  the  stones 
and  Amphion  induced  them  to 
form  a  wall  around  Thebes  when 
he  had  become  king  [193].  He 
married  Niobe.  After  the  death 
of  their  children,  he  killed  him- 
self [113]. 

Am  phi-tri'te.  One  of  the  Ne- 
reids. As  the  wife  of  Neptune, 
she  was  the  successor  of  Tethys, 
the  wife  of  Ocean  us,  who  had 
been  the  Titan  ruling  over  the 
watery  element.  She  was  a 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


883 


daughter  of  Nereus  and  Doris, 
and  the  mother  of  Triton  [172- 
173]. 

Am*phry'sos.  A  email  river  in 
Thessaly,  along  whose  banks 
Apollo  pastured  the  herds  of 
Admetus  [180]. 

Am'pyx.  The  assailant  of  Perseus, 
who  was  turned  to  stone  by  see- 
ing the  Gorgon's  head  [121]. 

Am-ri'ta.  In  Hindu  mythology, 
the  water  of  immortality  which 
the  gods  obtained  by  churning 
the  ocean,  using  Mount  Man- 
dara  as  a  stick  and  the  serpent 
Vasuki  as  a  rope,  while  Vishnu 
in  the  avatar  of  a  tortoise  was 
the  pivot  [321]. 

A'mun,  see  AMEN. 

Am-ymo'ne.  One  of  the  fifty 
daughters  of  Danaus,  and  mot  her 
by  Neptune  of  Nauplius,  the 
father  of  Palamedes.  Through 
the  help  of  Neptune,  she  made  a 
spring  flow  in  time  of  drought 
[144]. 

An  •  ax  •  ar'e  •  te.  A  noble  lady  of 
Cyprus  who  treated  her  lover 
Iphis  with  such  haughtiness  that 
he  hanged  himself  at  her  door. 
The  gods  punished  her  by  chang- 
ing her  body  into  stone.  She  was 
kept  as  a  statue  in  the  temple  of 
Venus  at  Salamis  [78-79]. 

An'bes'sa.  Saracen  governor  of 
Spain  in  725  A.D.  [648]. 

An  •  chi'ses.  The  father  of  Aeneas 
by  Venus,  who  had  fallen  in  love 
with  him  on  account  of  his 
beauty.  When  Troy  fell,  Aeneas 
carried  his  aged  father  out  of  the 
burning  city  on  his  shoulders. 
[258-259,  265,  271-272] 

An-drae'mon.  The  husband  of 
Dryope.  He  saw  his  wife  turn 
into  a  tree  for  inadvertently 
having  plucked  a  lotus  which  in 
reality  was  a  nymph  [64-65]. 

An'dret.  A  cowardly  knight  at 
the  court  of  king  Mark.  He 
spied  Tristram  and  Isoude 


through  a  keyhole  and  brought 
the  wrath  of  the  king  upon  them 
[456]. 

An  drom'a-che.  The  wife  of 
Hector  [213,  225]  and  mother  of 
Astyanax.  After  Hector's  death 
and  the  fall  of  Troy  she  was 
allotted  to  Neoptolemus  of  Epi- 
rus,  but  eventually  became  the 
wife  of  Hector's  brother  Helenus 
[260]. 

An  drom'e-da.  The  daughter  of 
Cepheus  and  Cassiopeia.  To 
placate  Neptune  she  had  to  be 
chained  to  a  rock,  but  was  de- 
livered by  Perseus  who  married 
her  and  killed  his  rival  Phineus. 
After  death  she  was  placed 
among  the  stars  [118-120]. 

A •  nem'o •  ne.  A  short-lived  wind- 
flower,  created  by  Venus  from 
the  blood  of  the  slain  Adonis 
[67]. 

An'eur  in.  A  Welsh  bard  of  the 
sixth  century,  author  of  The 
Gododin,  a  poem  on  the  seven 
days'  battle  of  Cattraeth  (603), 
in  which  his  countrymen  were 
defeated  by  the  Saxons  [531- 
532]. 

An-gel'i-ca.  The  heroine  of  the 
Italian  epic  poems  dealing  with 
the  adventures  of  Orlando. 
Daughter  of  King  Galaphron  of 
Cathay,  Angelica  is  sent  to  Paris 
to  sow  discord  among  the  Chris- 
tians. She  loves  Rinaldo  and 
Orlando  loves  her.  A  potion 
makes  Rinaldo  love  her  and  she 
loses  her  love  for  him.  Captive 
in  Bavaria,  she  is  delivered  by 
Rogero.  She  marries  Medoro 
and  Orlando  is  driven  mad  by 
jealousy  and  pride.  [665-672, 
678-686,  693,  704-710,  732,  751] 

An'ger  •  bo  •  tha  or  An'ger  •  bo  •  da. 
A  giantess  of  Norse  mythology. 
By  Loki  she  is  the  mother  of 
Fenrir,  Hel,  and  the  Midgard 
serpent  [344]. 

An'gle*sey.    A  northern  British 


884 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


island,  refuge  of  the  Druids  flee- 
ing from  the  Romans  [362]. 

An'tae'us.  A  gigantic  wrestler 
(son  of  Earth  and  Sea,  Ge  and 
Poseidon),  whose  strength  was 
invincible  so  long  as  he  touched 
the  earth.  Hercules  succeeded  in 
killing  him  by  lifting  him  up 
from  the  earth  and  squeezing 
him  to  death.  [122,  146] 

^n-te'a.  The  wife  of  Proetus. 
She  looked  with  too  much  ad- 
miration on  Bellerophon  whom 
the  jealous  husband  sent  in  con- 
sequence to  be  killed  with  the 
help  of  his  father-in-law  lobates 
[125]. 

An-te'nor.  A  Trojan,  the  wisest 
of  the  elders,  whose  descendants 
were  found  by  the  mythical 
Brute  in  Italy  [381]. 

An'te-ros.  Brother  (and  oppo- 
site) of  Eros.  Son  of  Venus  and 
Mars.  He  was  the  god  of  un- 
happy love,  the  avenger  of  unre- 
quited affection,  and  was  born 
after  Venus  had  complained  that 
her  son  Eros  continued  always  a 
child,  to  which  Themis  had  re- 
plied that  that  was  so  because  he 
was  so  solitary  [7].  After  Ante- 
ros'  birth  Eros  grew. 

An'thor.  A  Greek,  killed  by 
Mezentius'  spear  which  was 
aimed  at  Aeneas  [285]. 

An  •  tig'o  •  no.  Daughter  of  Oedi- 
pus, and  the  Greek  ideal  of  filial 
and  sisterly  fidelity  [181-184]. 

An*til'o*chus.  Son  of  Nestor 
and  friend  of  Achilles.  He  was 
chosen  to  break  to  Achilles  the 
news  of  Patroclus'  death  [221]. 
Antilochus  himself  was  killed  by 
Memnon,  the  son  of  Aurora  and 
Tithonus  [207].  The  three 
friends,  Antilochus,  Achilles, 
and  Patroclus  were  buried  in 
the  same  mound.  Ulysses  saw 
them  walking  together  in  the 
under  world. 

An-ti'o-pe.    Queen  of  the  Ama- 


zons, wife  of  Theseus  [153],  often 
confused  with  her  sister  or 
mother  Hippolyta  [154].  An- 
other Antiope  was  the  daughter 
of  the  Boeotian  river  god  Aso- 
pus,  queen  of  Thebes,  and,  by 
Jupiter,  mother  of  Amphion  and 
Zethus  [192]. 

A-nu'bis.  In  Egyptian  mythol- 
ogy, the  son  of  Osiris.  He  is  a 
deity  similar  to  the  Hermes  of 
Greece,  whose  office  it  was  to 
take  the  souls  of  the  dead  before 
the  judge  of  the  infernal  re- 
gions. [293-294] 

Ap'en  •  nines.  The  central  moun- 
tain range  of  Italy  [43]. 

A-phro'di'te,  see  VENUS. 

A'pis.  The  sacred  bull  of  Mom- 
phis  [295].  He  was  engendered 
by  a  moonbeam,  a  new  incarna- 
tion always  appearing  when  the 
previous  one  died.  He  was 
buried  in  the  Serapeum  of  Mem- 
phis, from  which  the  Greeks  de- 
veloped the  deity  Serapis. 

A'pis,  oracle  of.  The  Egyptian 
oracle  of  the  sacred  bull  Apis  at 
Memphis  [299]. 

A-pol'lo.  One  of  the  great  gods 
of  Olympus,  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Latona  [38,  112];  like  his  sister 
Diana,  born  on  Delos  which  is 
sacred  to  him  [259].  He  was  the 
god  of  archery,  prophecy,  music, 
and  healing  [3,  6].  As  the  leader 
of  the  Muses  he  was  given  the 
lyre  which  Mercury  had  in- 
vented [8]  and  in  turn  gave 
music  to  woman  when  she  was 
created  [13].  The  musician 
Orpheus  was  his  son  [185].  As 
the  god  of  healing  he  bore  the 
name  of  Paeon  [174],  sharing  it 
with  other  gods,  and  became  the 
father  of  Aesculapius  [179],  He 
was  the  successor  of  Hyperion 
[5]  as  sun  god  and  became  identi- 
fied with  Helios,  in  whose  stead 
he  was  considered  the  father  of 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


885 


Phaethon     [39-41].      See    also 
PHOEBUS. 

Apollo's  exploits  in  myth  and 
poetry  are  numerous.  He  killed 
the  serpent  Python  [19];  he 
loved  the  nymph  Daphne  and 
changed  her  at  her  request  into 
a  bay  tree  [20-23];  he  supplied 
king  Midas  with  a  pair  of  asses' 
ears  for  having  voted  for  Pan 
and  against  Apollo  in  a  trial  of 
musical  skill  [47];  inadvertently 
he  killed  Hyacinthus  [67-68]; 
with  his  sister  he  took  revenge 
on  Niobe  for  having  insulted  his 
mother  [112-113];  for  one  year 
he  was  the  servant  of  king 
Admetus  to  atone  for  his  unjust 
attack  of  the  Cyclopes  who  had 
made  the  bolt  with  which  Jupiter 
killed  Apollo's  son  Aesculapius 
[179-180];  he  induced  Diana  to 
kill  Orion  [206];  in  the  Trojan 
war  he  intervened  on  behalf  of 
Chryseis  and  thus  precipitated 
the  quarrel  of  Agamemnon  and 
Achilles  [216];  he  healed  Hector 
[218]  and  assisted  him  in  his 
struggle  with  Patroclus  [220];  he 
guided  the  arrow  which  killed 
Achilles  [228];  it  was  he  who 
gave  Cassandra,  whom  he  loved, 
the  gift  of  prophecy  [232];  etc. 
Apollo  was  the  incarnation  of 
the  Greek  ideal  of  youthful  man- 
hood. As  such  he  became  a  fa- 
vorite subject  of  Greek  and  later 
art.  [3,  5-6,  8,  13,  19,  20-23,  34, 
38-41,  47,  67-68,  71,  92,  104, 
112-113,  123,  127,  157,  174,  179- 
180,  185,  196,  199,  206,  216,  218, 
220,  222-225,  228,  232,  252,  259, 
274,  301,  314] 

A-pol'lo,  oracles  of.  Apollo  had 
several  oracles;  one  in  Ionia  [69], 
one  on  the  island  of  Delos  [259], 
but  the  most  famous  one  in 
Delphi  [297],  known  as  the 
Delphic  or  Delphian  oracle.  [69, 
81,  92,  259,  297] 

A  •  pol'lo  Bel  •  ve  •  dere'.   A  statue 


of  Apollo,  found  in  the  sixteenth 
century  near  Anzio  and  placed 
in  the  Belvedere  apartment  of 
the  Vatican.  Long  regarded  as 
a  model  specimen  of  Greek 
sculpture,  it  is  now  recognized 
as  of  late  Graeco- Roman  origin 
[306]. 

apples  of  the  Hesperides.  See 
HKSPERIDES. 

Aq'ui-lo.  The  north  wind.  Iden- 
tical with  Boreas  [176]. 

Aq'ui*  taine.  Ancient  province  of 
southwestern  France,  into  which 
King  Arthur  sent  an  army  under 
his  vassal  Hoel  [406]. 

A-rach'ne.  A  maiden  skilled  in 
weaving,  who  was  changed  to  a 
spider  by  Minerva  for  having 
the  presumption  to  challenge 
the  goddess  to  a  contest  in  weav- 
ing [108-111]. 

Ar-ca'di-a.  A  district  of  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus which,  according  to 
Virgil,  was  the  home  of  pastoral 
simplicity  and  happiness.  [9,  34, 
138,  280] 

Ar'cas.  Son  of  Jupiter  and  Cal- 
listo,  who  lived  with  his  mother 
in  Arcadia  [34], 

Archer,  see  SAGITTARIUS. 

Ar'den.  A  forest  in  England 
which  formerly  extended  through 
the  midland  counties  [661,  667- 
668,  703]. 

A're-op'a-gus.  Literally,  the 
hill  of  Ares,  that  is,  of  Mars.  A 
rocky  hill,  west  of  the  Acropolis 
at  Athens,  and  the  court  whith 
sat  on  it.  So  called,  according  to 
tradition,  because  here  Ares 
(Mars)  was  triad  by  the  gods  for 
the  murder  of  Halirrhotius,  a 
son  of  Neptune,  who  had  vio- 
lated his  daughter  Alcippe.  It 
was  here,  too,  that  Orestes  re- 
ceived absolution  for  the  killing 
of  his  mother  Ciytemnestra 
[235]. 

A'res.  Called  Mars  by  the  Ro- 
mans. The  Greek  god  of  war, 


886 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


and  one  of  the  great  Olympian 
deities  [7]. 

\Te-thu'*a.  A  wood  nymph 
from  Elis  whom  the  river  god 
Alpheus,  madly  in  love  with  her, 
pursued  until  Diana  changed  her 
into  a  fountain  [55].  In  this 
shape  she  fled  through  the  lower 
parts  of  the  earth  where  she  saw 
Ceres'  daughter  Proserpine  [56]. 
Thus  she  could  help  Ceres  in  her 
soan  h  for  Proserpine  whom 
Pluto  had  carried  away.  [55-56, 
58] 

Ar'gius.  King  of  Ireland,  and 
father  of  Isoude  the  Fair  [453]. 

Ar'go.  From  Greek  argos,  "swift." 
The  galley  of  Jason  that  went  in 
search  of  the  Golden  Fleece  [132- 
133|.  It  was  named  after  its 
builder  [130]. 

Ar'go  1  is.  A  division  of  Pelopon- 
nesus, containing  the  valley  of 
Nemea,  scene  of  the  Nemean 
games  [155]. 

Ar'go -nauts.  Jason's  crew  in 
search  of  the  Golden  Fleece. 
[130,  131,  137,  144,  158,  176] 

Ar'gos.  A  city  and  kingdom  of 
Argolis  [182,  234,  285,  289,  307]. 

Ar'gus.  The  hundred-eyed  guard- 
ian of  lo,  who  was  killed  by  Mer- 
cury [29-31,  130,  133,  255,  302]. 

A-ri  ad'ne.  The  daughter  of 
King  Minos  of  Crete.  She  fell  in 
love  with  Theseus  and  gave  him 
a  sword  and  a  clew  of  thread 
with  which  to  kill  the  Minotaur 
and  find  his  way  out  of  the  laby- 
rinth. Theseus  fled  with  her  to 
Naxos  and  abandoned  her  there 
[152].  Her  laments  aroused  the 
compassion  of  Bacchus  [165] 
who  married  her  and  gave  her  a 
crown  which  after  her  death  was 
transformed  into  the  celestial 
constellation  of  the  crown  of 
Ariadne.  [152,  156,  165] 

A-rim'a-nes,  see  AHRIMAN. 

Ar  •  i  •  mas'pi  •  ans.  A  one-eyed 
people  of  Syria  [129]. 


A*ri'on.  A  Greek  poet  of  Lesbos 
who  flourished  about  or  after 
700  B.C.  According  to  legend, 
Arion  was  cast  into  the  sea  by 
sailors  on  a  trip  from  Corinth 
to  his  native  island.  His  lyric 
song,  however,  charmed  the 
dolphins,  one  of  which  bore  him 
safely  to  land  [195-198]. 

Ar-ia  tae'us.  In  Greek  mythol- 
ogy, protector  of  vines  and 
olives,  huntsmen  arid  herdsmen. 
He  instructed  man  in  the  man- 
agement of  bees,  taught  him  by 
his  mother  Cyrenc  [189-191], 
and  was  in  love  with  Kurydice 
[185]. 

Ar-mor'i-ca.  Another  name  for 
Britain  [357,  38S,  400]. 

Ar-ri-da'no.  A  magical  ruffian, 
slain  by  Orlando  [687,  689-090]. 

Ar'te-mis.  A  Greek  deity  identi- 
fied by  the  Romans  with  Diana. 
See  DIANA. 

Arth-gal'lo.  Brother  of  Ehdure, 
British  king  [386]. 

Ar'thur,  see  KING  ARTHUR. 

A'runs.  An  Etruscan  who  killed 
Camilla  [286]. 

Ar*vir'a-gci8.  A  legendary  prince, 
one  of  the  sons  of  King  Cymbe- 
line  of  Britain.  After  their 
father's  death  Arviragus  and 
Guiderius  refuse  to  continue  the 
payment  of  tribute  to  the  Ro- 
mans. In  the  course  of  a  re- 
newed Roman  invasion  Guide- 
rius is  killed  and  Arviragus  is 
forced  to  come  to  terms  [388]. 

As'ca'ni-us.    See  IULUS. 

As'gard.  Literally,  enclosure  of 
the  gods.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  citadel  of  the  gods,  located 
in  the  heavens,  and  accessible 
only  over  the  rainbow  bridge 
Bifrost.  It  has  many  mansions. 
Among  them  Valhalla,  Vingolf, 
Valaskjalf,  Ydalir,  etc.  [330, 
345]. 

Ash'ta-roth.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  a  cruel  spirit 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


887 


called  by  enchantment  to  bring 
Rinaldo  to  death  (804-805]. 

Ask  or  Askr.  In  Norse  Mythol- 
ogy, the  first  man,  created  out 
of  an  ash  tree  by  the  gods  Odin, 
Vili,  Ve  [3291:  The  first  woman 
was  Embla. 

Aa'ke,  see  ASK. 

A&'tol'pho.  One  of  the  twelve 
paladins*  of  Charlemagne,  an 
English  duke  who  joined  the 
Emperor  in  his  struggle  against 
the  Saracens.  He  was  a  great 
boaster,  but  was  generous,  cour- 
teous, gay  and  singularly  hand- 
some. [653,  656,  667,  673,  675, 
722,  731,  739-740,  769-779,  783- 
784,  791] 

As-trae'a.  The  goddess  of  jus- 
tice, of  innocence  and  purity, 
generally  said  to  be  the  daughter 
of  Themis  and  Jupiter.  She  was 
the  last  of  the  immortals  to 
withdraw  from  the  earth  after 
the  Golden  Age.  Afterwards  she 
became  the  constellation  Virgo 
[15]. 

As'ty'a-ges.  An  assailant  of 
Perseus  [121]. 

A»-ty'a-nax.  In  classic  mythol- 
ogy, the  son  of  Hector  and  An- 
dromache. The  Greeks  threw 
him  down  from  the  walls  of 
Troy  after  they  captured  the 
city.  In  medieval  legend,  ho  be- 
came the  founder  of  the  king- 
dom of  Messina  [697]. 

A-su'ras.  Opponents  of  the  Bra- 
minical  gods  [321]. 

At -a- Ian' ta.  A  beautiful  maiden 
who  participated  in  the  Calydo- 
nian  boar  hunt.  When  Meleager 
bestowed  on  her  as  trophies  the 
head  and  the  hide  of  the  boar 
which  he  had  killed,  she  became 
the  innocent  cause  of  a  conflict 
in  which  Meleager  and  two  of 
his  uncles  lost  their  lives  [138- 
140].  According  to  another  leg- 
end, Atalanta  had  been  warned 
by  an  oracle  not  to  marry.  In 


order  to  make  things  difficult  for 
her  suitors  she  promised  to  be 
the  prize  in  a  race.  She  lost  the 
race  to  Hippomenes  who  then 
forgot  to  thank  Venus  and  was 
changed  into  a  lion  as  was  also 
his  bride  [66,  141-142]. 

A'te.  The  goddess  of  vengeance 
and  mischief.  She  was  driven 
out  of  heaven,  and  took  refuge 
among  the  sons  of  men  [222], 

Ath'a-mas.  Son  of  Aeolus,  king 
of  Thessaly.  Having  grown  in- 
different to  his  wife  Nopheie 
[129-130],  he  united  himself  to 
Ino,  the  daughter  of  Cadmus 
[174]. 

A  •  the'ne.  The  goddess  of  wisdom 
and  of  the  arts  and  sciences  in 
Greek  mythology,  correspond- 
ing to  the  Roman  Minerva.  She 
sprang  full-armored  from  the 
head  of  Zeus.  Athens  was  called 
after  her  as  the  result  of  a  con- 
test in  which  the  prize  went  to 
the  deity  that  had  bestowed 
upon  man  the  most  useful  boon. 
Athene's  was  the  olive  tree; 
Neptune's  the  horse  [152]. 

Ath'ens.  The  capital  of  Attica, 
about  four  miles  from  the  sea, 
between  the  small  rivers  Cephis- 
aus  and  Ilissus.  [95,  107,  136- 
137,  150-151,  153-154,  235,  307] 

A'thor,  see  HATHOR. 

A'thoft.  The  mountainous  penin- 
sula, also  called  Acte,  which 
projects  from  Chalcidice  in 
Macedonia  [43]. 

At-lan'tes.  A  powerful  magician, 
the  foster-father  of  Rogero  [693, 
703,  720,  737,  7391. 

At  lan'tis.  A  mythic  island  of 
great  extent  which  was  supposed 
to  have  existed  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean.  It  is  first  mentioned  by 
Plato  (in  the  Timaeus  and 
Critias),  and  Solon  was  told  of 
it  by  an  Egyptian  priest,  who 
said  that  it  had  been  over- 
whelmed by  an  earthquake  and 


888 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


sunk  beneath  the  sea  9000  years 
before  his  time  [273]. 

At'Ias.  One  of  the  Titans  warring 
against  the  gods  and  condemned 
to  uphold  the  heavens  on  his 
shoulders  [5].  He  was  a  brother 
of  Prometheus,  son  of  lapetus 
and  father  of  the  Pleiades.  A 
king  by  the  name  of  Atlas  had 
the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  in 
his  realm  [117-118]  and  was  their 
uncle  [146]  or  father.  [5,  44,  117- 
118,  146,  149,  206] 

At'Ias  Mountains.  A  mountain 
range  in  northern  Africa  [145]. 

At'ro'pos.  One  of  the  three 
Fates,  daughter  of  Themis 
(Law).  Her  name  means  "in- 
flexible." She  severs  the  thread 
of  human  life  [9], 

At'ti-ca.  A  division  of  ancient 
Greece,  the  chief  city  of  which 
was  Athens  [153-154,  158]. 

Aud-hum'la.  The  cow  from 
which  the  giant  Ymir  was 
nursed.  Her  milk  was  frost 
melted  into  raindrops  [329].  She 
licked  Buri,  the  grandfather  of 
Odin,  out  of  the  salty  ice  [329], 

Au*ge'an     stable,      see     under 

AUQEAS. 

Au'gc'as.  A  king  of  the  Epeians 
in  Elis,  son  of  Helios  and  Her- 
mione,  and  owner  of  the  "Au- 
gean stable"  in  which  he  kept 
an  enormous  herd  of  cattle — 
including  twelve  white  bulls  sa- 
cred to  the  sun.  The  cleaning  of 
this  stable,  neglected  for  thirty 
years,  was  one  of  the  "twelve 
labors"  of  Hercules  [144]. 

Aii'gus'tan  age.  Reign  of  the 
Roman  Emperor  Augustus  Cae- 
sar, famed  for  many  great  au- 
thors, including  Horace,  Ovid, 
Propertius,  Tibullus,  Vergil,  etc. 
[308]. 

Au'gus'tus.  The  Roman  Em- 
peror Gaius  Julius  Caesar  Octa- 
vianus  (63,  27  B.C.-14  A.D.). 
Augustus  was  originally  a  title 


(meaning  "the  exalted")  and 
not  a  part  of  the  emperor's 
name  [11,  308]. 

Au'lis.  A  port  in  Bootia,  the 
meeting-place  of  the  Greek  ex- 
pedition against  Troy  [213]. 

Au-ro'ra.  Identical  with  Eos, 
goddess  of  the  dawn  [23,  26,  53, 
71,  207-208]. 

auTo'ra  bo-re-a'lis.  The  north- 
ern light  caused  by  the  brilliance 
of  the  armor  of  the  valkyrie 
[331]. 

Aus'ter.  The  south  wind  or 
Notus  [176]. 

Au-to'no-e.  Daughter  of  Cad- 
mus and  aunt  of  Pentheus  whom 
she  helped  destroy  in  the  frenzy 
of  a  Bacchic  festival  [164]. 

Autumn.  Attendant  of  Phoebus 
Apollo  [39]. 

Av'a  •  Ion.  A  Celtic  word  meaning 
"the  island  of  apples,"  and  in 
Celtic  mythology  applied  to  the 
Island  of  Blessed  Soula.  In  the 
Arthurian  legends  it  is  the  abode 
and  burial-place  of  Arthur,  who 
was  carried  hither  by  Morgan 
le  Fay.  [395,  400,  520] 

av'a-tar  (Sanskrit  avatara,  de- 
scent; hence,  incarnation  of  a 
god).  In  Hindu  mythology,  the 
advent  to  earth  of  a  deity  in  a 
visible  form.  The  ten  avataras 
of  Vishnu  are  by  far  the  most 
celebrated.  1st  advent,  (the 
Matsya),  in  the  form  of  a  fish; 
2nd,  (the  Kurma),  in  that  of  a 
tortoise;  3rd,  (the  Varaha),  of  a 
boar;  4th,  (the  Narasinha),  of  a 
monster,  half  man  and  half  lion; 
5th,  (the  Vamana),  in  the  form 
of  a  dwarf;  6th,  (Parashurama), 
in  human  form,  as  Rama  with 
the  axe;  7th,  (Ramachandra), 
again  as  Rama;  8th,  as  Krishna; 
9th,  as  Buddha.  These  are  all 
past.  The  10th  advent  will  occur 
at  the  end  of  four  ages,  and  will 
be  in  the  form  of  a  white  horse 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


(Kalki)  with  wings,  to  destroy 
the  earth  [321]. 

Av'en-tine,  Mount.  One  of  the 
Seven  Hills  of  Rome  [146]. 

A-ver'nus.  A  miasmatic  lake 
close  to  the  promontory  between 
Cumae  and  Puteoli,  filling  the 
crater  of  an  extinct  volcano.  It 
was  thought  to  be  the  entrance 
to  the  infernal  regions  [265-266], 

A'ves'ta,  see  ZEND-AVESTA. 

Avi'cen'na.  Also  ibn-Sina 
(980-1037).  Celebrated  Arabian 
physician  and  philosopher  [313]. 

A'ya.  In  medieval  romance,  the 
mother  of  Rinaldo  by  Aymon 
[820]. 

Ay'mon.  In  Old  French  romances, 
a  partly  imaginary  Duke  of 
Dordogne.  He  is  the  father  of 
Bradamante  and  "les  quatro  fils 
d' Aymon,"  Renaud  (Italian  Ri- 
naldo), Alard,  Guiscard,  and 
Richard  [791-792,  794]. 


Ba'al.  Name  of  any  one  of  a  va- 
riety of  local  Semitic  deities 
[358]. 

Bac-cha-na'li-a.  A  feast  to 
Bacchus  that  was  permitted  to 
occur  but  once  in  throe  years, 
and  was  attended  by  shameless 
orgies  [16 1], 

bac'cha  •  nals.  Devotees  and  fes- 
tal dancers  of  Bacchus  [161r 
164]. 

Bac'chus.  In  Roman  mythology, 
the  god  of  wine,  the  Dionysus  of 
the  Greeks,  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Semele  [8],  also  known  as  Lib  us 
[10].  Seinele,  at  the  suggestion 
of  Juno,  asked  Jupiter  to  appear 
before  her  in  all  his  glory,  but 
the  foolish  request  proved  her 
death.  Jupiter  saved  the  child 
which  was  prematurely  born  by 
sewing  it  up  in  his  thigh  till  it 
came  to  maturity.  His  foster- 


father  was  Silenus  [46].  Bacchus 
entered  Thebes  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  elephants,  and,  ac- 
cording to  some  accounts,  he 
married  Ariadne  after  Theseus 
had  deserted  her  in  Naxos  [160- 
165].  [8,  10,  46-47,  123,  160-165, 
179,  187] 

Ba'don,  Mount.  The  scene  of  a 
battle^  gained  by  King  Arthur 
over  the  Saxons,  identified  as 
Badbury  Rings  near  Bath  or 
Boudenhill  near  Linlithgow 
[394-400]. 

Bag  •  de  •  ma'gus,  King.  A  knight 
of  Arthur's  time  [427-428,  489]. 

Bal'der  or  Bal'dur.  Son  of  Odin 
and  Frigga;  the  Scandinavian 
god  of  light.  He  is  the  central 
figure  of  many  myths.  He  is 
said  to  have  been  slain  by  his 
rival  Hoder  while  fighting  for 
possession  of  the  beautiful 
Nanna.  Another  legend  tells 
that  Frigga  bound  all  things  by 
oath  not  to  harm  him,  but  acci- 
dentally omitted  the  mistletoe. 
Loki  learnt  this,  and  armed  his 
blind  brother  Hoder  with  a  mis- 
tletoe twig,  with  which  Balder 
was  slain.  [343-347] 

Bal  •  i  •  sar'da.  In  Ariosto's  Or- 
lando  Furioso,  a  famous  sword 
made  in  the  garden  of  Orgagna 
by  the  sorceress  Faleri'na  [786]. 

Ban.  King  of  Brittany,  father  of 
Launcelot,  and  ally  of  King 
Arthur  [391,  401,  424]. 

bards.  The  minstrels  of  the  an- 
cient Celtic  peoples,  the  Gauls, 
British,  Welsh,  Irish,  and  Scots. 
The  bards  celebrated  the  deeds 
of  gods  and  heroes,  incited  to 
battle,  sang  at  royal  and  other 
festivities,  and  frequently  acted 
as  heralds  [361,  531]. 

basilisk.  The  king  of  serpents. 
Greek  basileos,  "king."  See 

COCKATHICB. 

Bau'cis.  See  PHILEMON  AND 
BAUCIS. 


890 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Ba'yard.  A  horse  of  incredible 
swiftness,  given  by  Charlemagne 
to  the  four  sons  of  Ay'mon.  If 
only  one  of  the  sons  mounted, 
the  horse  was  of  the  ordinary 
size;  but  if  all  four  mounted,  his 
body  became  elongated  to  the 
requisite  length.  He  is  still  alive 
and  can  be  heard  neighing  in  the 
Ardennes  on  Midsummer  Day. 
[001-663,  672,  696,  704,  708,  768- 
769,  784-788,  814,  826] 

Be'al.  The  god  of  life  of  the 
Druids  [358]. 

Bear.  The  constellation  Dipper  or 
Ursa  Major  [3]. 

Bed'i-vere.  One  of  King  Arthur's 
knights.  It  was  he  whom  the 
dying  king  ordered  to  throw 
Kxcalibur  back  into  the  lake 
[519]  and  who  took  Arthur  to 
the  barge  [520]  in  which  three 
queens  accompanied  him  to  the 
Vale  of  A vtilon.  [517-525] 

Bed'ver.  King  Arthur's  butler, 
made  governor  of  Normandy 
[406-410]. 

Bed'wyr.  A  knightly  comrade  of 
Geraint  [570]. 

Bel  •  i  •  sar'da.  Rogero's  sword 
[730]. 

Bel-ler'o-phon.  A  grandson  of 
Sisyphus.  Riding  on  Pegasus  he 
slow  the  fire-breathing  Chimaera 
[125-126].  He  was  worshiped  as 
a  demigod  at  Corinth. 

Bellerophontic  letters.  Letters 
containing  the  bearer's  death 
warrant,  as  the  letter  which 
Bellorophori  brought  from  the 
jealous  Proetus  to  king  lobates 
of  Lycia  who  then  asked  him 
(Bcllerophon)  to  try  to  kill  the 
Chimaera  [125]. 

Bel-lo'na.  The  Roman  goddess 
of  war,  represented  as  the  sister 
or  wife  of  Mars  [10]. 

Bel'tane.  "Fire  of  God."  One  of 
the  two  great  festivals  observed 
by  the  druids,  the  other  being 
Samhin,  "fire  of  peace."  Bel- 


tane was  held  in  the  beginning 
of  May  [359]. 

Be'lus.  Son  of  Neptune  and  Libya 
or  Eurynome,  and  twin  brother 
of  Agenor  [262]. 

Ben'di  •  geid  Vran.  King  of  Brit- 
ain [589-597]. 

Be'o-wulf.  The  hero  and  king  of 
the  Swedish  Geats  [635-637]. 

Ber'o-e.    Nurse  of  Semele  [160]. 

Ber'tha.  The  mother  of  Orlando 
[656]. 

Bif'rost.  The  rainbow  bridge  con- 
necting Asgar-d  with  Midgard 
[330].  It  is  guarded  by  Heimdall 
[332].  At  Ragnarok  it  will  eol- 
lup.se  under  the  weight  of  the 
onrushing  sons  of  Muspelheiin 
[349]. 

Bla'dud.  A  mythical  British  king. 
He  was  a  great  inventor  and 
founded  the  city  of  Bath,  dedi- 
cating its  medicinal  waters  to 
Minerva.  He  made  himself 
wings  and  crushed  over  Tri no- 
van  t  after  a  reign  of  twenty 
years  [383]. 

Bla'mor.  A  knight  of  Arthur's 
court  [512,  523,  525]. 

Ble-ob'er-is.  A  knight  of  Arthur's 
court  [525]. 

Boe-o'ti-a.  A  state  in  ancient 
Greece  with  the  capital  city  of 
Thebes  [213,  297]. 

Bohort,  Sir.  A  knight  of  Arthur's 
Round  Ttible,  brother  of  Sir 
Lionel ,  and  nephew  of  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake.  Also  called  Sir 
Bors.  [399,  401,  424,  442-443, 
416-449,  497-502,  504-507,  510, 
512,  523-525] 

Bo'na  De'a.  A  Roman  goddess  of 
fertility  [10n].  Considered  as  the 
wife  or  sister  of  Faunus,  she  was 
often  called  Fauna.  The  com- 
mon word  "fauna"  is  identical 
with  her  name. 

B  o  •  o'  teg .  G  reek  for ' '  ploughman . ' ' 
Also  called  Areas;  son  of  Jupiter 
and  Callisto.  He  invented  the 
plough,  to  which  he  yoked  twc 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


891 


oxen,  and  at  death,  being  taken 
to  heaven  with  his  plough  and 
oxen,  was  made  a  constellation. 
Homer  calls  it  "the  wagoner," 
i.e.,  the  wagoner  of  "Charles' 
Wain,"  the  Great  Bear  [42]. 
Bo're-as.  A  personification  of  the 
north  wind.  He  tried  to  be  Ken- 
tie  with  the  nymph  Orithyia, 
whom  he  loved  dearly,  but  he 
could  not  breathe  soothingly  or 
sigh  softly,  and,  true  to  his  real 
character,  he  carried  her  off  and 
became  by  her  the  father  of 
Zetcs  and  Calais  [170].  Boreas 
is  at  times  called  a  son  of  Aeolus, 
the  ruler  of  the  winds  [261]  and 
lives  in  a  cave  in  Mount  Haemus 
in  Thrace. 

Bos'poTus.  The  Cowford,  named 
for  lo,  when  as  a  heifer  she 
crossed  that  strait  [31]. 
Brad  •  a  •  man'te.  In  Carlovingian 
legend,  a  female  warrior,  the 
sister  of  Rinaldo  and  niece  of 
Charlemagne  known  as  the 
"Virgin  Knight."  Although  she 
is  in  love  with  Rogero  the  Moor, 
she  refuses  to  marry  him  until 
he  is  baptized.  [697,  703,  708, 
712-721,  727,  737-738,  740,  705, 
708,  779,  791-792,  794,  790-KOl] 
Brad-e-ma'gus,  King.  Father 

of  Sir  Muleagans  [430,  439]. 
Bra'gi.   Son  of  Odin ;  god  of  poetry 
[332],    He  was  Odin's  principal 
scald  in  Valhalla. 
Brah'ma.   In  Hinduism,  the  Cre- 
ator of  the  universe,  the  first  in 
the  divine  Triad,  of  which  the 
other  partners  were  Vishnu,  the 
Main  tamer,  and  Siva  (or  Shiva), 
the  Destroyer  [320-325]. 
Bran' wen.    In  Welsh  legend,  the 
daughter  of  King  Llyr  of  Brit- 
ain and  wife  of  Matholch,  king 
of  Ireland  [591-597]. 
Brazen  Age.    The  third   age  of 
man,  before  the  flood,  following 
the  Golden  and  Silver  Ages  but 
preceding  the  Iron  Age  [14]. 


Bre  •  cil'i  •  ande.  The  forest  where 
Vivian  enticed  Merlin  [391-392, 

475]. 
Breng'wain.  The  maid  of  Isoude 

the  Fair  [454,  468-469]. 
Bren'nus.     Son    of    Molmutius, 
who  became  King  of  the  Allo- 
broges  when  he  went  to  Gaul 
[386]. 
Breuse,    the   Pitiless.     A   caitiff 

knight  [404,  409]. 
Bri  •  a're  •  us.     A    hundred-armed 
giant  [123],  son  of  Heaven  and 
Earth,  warring  against  the  gods 
[52]  and  finally  banished  to  the 
infernal  regions  [267]. 
Brice.    Bishop  of  Tours,  died  m 
444.    St.  Brice's  day  is  Novem- 
ber 13.    In  Arthurian  legend  he 
is  the  sustainer  of  Arthur  when 
elected  king  [398]. 
Brig-li«a-do'ro.      In     Boiardo'n 
Orlando  Innamorato,  the  Dame  of 
OrlandoN  horse.    It  means  liter- 
ally "golden  bridle"  [759,  78S]. 
Bri'se'is.     Daughter   of   Briseus; 
captive  of  Ac-hilles.   She  became 
the  cause  of  the  quarrel  between 
Achilles  and  Agamemnon   who 
claimed  her  in  exchange  for  his 
own     captive     Chryseis    whom 
Apollo  wanted  restored  to  her 
father  [216]. 
Britons  [529-530]. 
Brit'to.   Son  of  Histion,  grandson 
of     .Taphot,    greatgrandson     of 
Noah,  and  ancestor  of  the  Brit- 
ish people  [379]. 
Bruh'ier.    Sultan  of  Arabia  [862- 

800]. 
Bru-nel'lo.     Dwarf,    thief,    and 

king  [694,  718]. 

Brun'hild.  Leader  of  the  Val- 
kyrie [352,  354-357]. 
Bru'tus  or  Brute.  In  the  mytho- 
logical history  of  England,  the 
first  king  of  the  Britons,  son  of 
Sylvius  (grandson  of  Ascanius 
and  great-grandson  of  Aene'as). 
In  remembrance  of  Troy,  he 
called  the  capital  of  his  kingdom 


892 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Troynovant,  now  London  [375, 
379-391]. 

Bry'an,  Sir.  A  knight  of  Arthur's 
court  [430]. 

Bud'dha.  Sanskrit,  "the  En- 
lightened." The  title  given  to 
Prince  Siddhar'tha  or  Gautama, 
also  called  (from  the  name  of  his 
tribe,  the  Sakhyas)  Saky'a  muni, 
the  founder  of  Buddhism,  who 
lived  in  the  6th  century  B.C. 
[321,  325-326]. 

Bull,  see  TAURUS. 

Byb'los.  A  town  near  Bubastis  in 
Egypt  [294]. 

Byr'sa.  The  citadel  of  Carthage, 
built  by  Dido,  on  the  basis  of  a 
bargain  with  the  natives,  within 
the  limits  of  a  piece  of  land  that 
could  bo  enclosed  with  a  bull's 
hide.  The  bull's  hide,  which  had 
of  course  been  cut  up  into  strips, 
gave  the  place  its  name.  Greek 
byrsa  means  hide.  Historically 
the  name  comes  from  a  Phoe- 
nician word  meaning  citadel 
[262]. 


Ca'cus.  In  Roman  mythology,  a 
giant,  son  of  Vulcan,  living  near 
the  spot  where  Rome  was  built. 
He  stole  some  of  Geryon's  oxen, 
guarded  by  Hercules,  driving 
them  backward  (to  confuse  pur- 
suers of  their  footsteps)  into  his 
Aventine  cave,  but  was  discov- 
ered and  killed  by  Hercules 
[146-147]. 

Cad'mus.  King  of  Phoenicia  and 
Telephassa,  by  his  wife  Harmo- 
nia  [182]  father  of  Actaeon  [34] 
and  Ino.  He  was  reputedly  the 
introducer  of  the  Greek  alphabet 
[301].  Seeking  his  sister  Europa, 
carried  off  by  Jupiter,  he  had 
strange  adventures — sowing  in 
the  ground  teeth  of  a  dragon  he 
had  killed,  which  sprang  up 


armed  men  who  slew  each  other, 
all  but  five,  who  helped  him  to 
found  the  city  of  Thebes  [91-94]. 

Ca-du'ce  us.  The  staff  of  Mer- 
cury [49],  which  he  received  from 
Apollo  in  exchange  for  the  lyre 
[8].  It  was  originally  of  olive- 
woed.  Its  garlands  were  later 
replaced  by  serpents.  At  the  top 
there  were  two  wings. 

Cad-wal'lon.  A  British  king  of 
Venedotia  or  Gwynedd,  which  is 
probably  the  modern  North 
Wales  [407].  He  was  invited  to 
court  by  King  Arthur. 

Caer-le'on.  A  town  in  Mon- 
mouthshire, England,  on  the 
river  Usk,  the  seat  of  King 
Arthur's  court  [406,  413,  534, 
553].  Literally,  the  city  of 
legions:  caer,  Welsh  for  city,  and 
leon,  a  Welsh  contraction  of 
legion.  See  also  CAMELOT. 

Caesar,  Gams  Julius  (100-44 
B.C.)'  Roman  lawyer,  general, 
statesman  and  author,  who  con- 
quered and  consolidated  Roman 
territory,  making  possible  the 
Empire  [387-388]. 

Ca  i'cus.  An  ancient  Greek  river 
which,  with  many  others,  dried 
up  when  Phaeton  drove  the 
chariot  of  the  sun  [44]. 

cairns.  Druidical  stone-piles  [359, 
365]. 

Ca'la-is.  Son  of  the  north  wind 
Boreas  and  the  nymph  Orithyia; 
brother  of  Zetes  [176].  One  of 
the  winged  warriors  that  accom- 
panied the  Argonauts  [133]. 

Cal'chas.  The  wisest  soothsayer 
among  the  Greeks  at  Troy  [214, 
217,  230]. 

Cal'i'burn,  see  EXCALIBUR. 

CaMi'o-pe.  One  of  the  nine 
Muses;  mother  of  Orpheus  by 
Apollo  [185];  the  patroness  of 
epic  poetry  [8]. 

Cal'lis'to.  An  Arcadian  nymph 
metamorphosed  into  a  she-bear 
by  Jupiter.  Her  son  Areas  hav- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


893 


ing  met  her  in  the  chase,  would 
have  killed  her,  but  Jupiter  con- 
verted him  into  a  he-bear,  and 
placed  them  both  in  the  heavens, 
where  they  are  recognized  as  the 
Great  and  Little  Bear  [31-34]. 

Cal'pe.  Gibraltar,  one  of  the  Pil- 
lars of  Hercules,  the  other  being 
anciently  called  Abyla.  Accord- 
ing to  one  account,  these  two 
were  originally  one  mountain, 
which  Hercules  tore  asunder; 
but  some  say  he  piled  up  each 
mountain  separately,  and  poured 
the  sea  between  them  [145]. 

Cal'ydon.  The  home  of  Mele- 
ager,  and  site  of  the  Calydonian 
Boar  Hunt  [138-139,  140]. 

Ca-lyp'so.  The  queen  of  the 
island  Ogygia  on  which  Ulysses 
was  wrecked.  She  kept  him 
there  for  seven  years,  and  prom- 
ised him  perpetual  youth  and 
immortality  if  he  would  remain 
with  her  for  ever  [245-247]. 

Ca-lyp'so's  island.  The  island 
where  Calypso  received  Ulysses. 
Its  name  was  Ogygia,  and  Plu- 
tarch says  that  it  lies  due  west, 
beneath  the  setting  sun  [245]. 

Cam'ber.  One  of  the  three  sons 
of  Brut,  the  descendant  of 
Aeneas.  Camber's  portion  of 
his  father's  realm  was  called 
Cambria,  which  is  the  Latin 
name  for  Wales  [381]. 

Cam'bri-a.  The  Latin  name  for 
Wales  [381,  529].  It  is  derived 
from  the  name  of  Camber,  one 
of  the  three  sons  of  Brut  who 
founded  the  city  of  London. 

Cam'e-lot.  Legendary  place  in 
England  where  Arthur's  court 
and  palace  were  located  [441, 
453].  See  also  CAERLEON. 

Ca-me'nae.  In  Roman  mythol- 
ogy, nymphs  of  fountains  and 
springs.  They  were  prophetic 
divinities  and  in  course  of  time 
were  identified  with  the  Greek 
Muses  [175]. 


Ca*mil'Ia.  A  Volscian  maiden, 
huntress  and  Amazonian  war- 
rior, and  a  favorite  of  Diana 
[278,  286-287]. 

Cam'Ian,  battle  of.  In  Arthu- 
rian legend  the  battle  which  put 
an  end  to  the  Knights  of  the 
Round  Table,  and  at  which 
Arthur  received  his  death  wound 
from  the  hand  of  his  nephew 
Modred  [395]. 

Can'cer.  A  zodiacal  constellation 
[41]. 

Can' ter- bury.  English  city  [516]. 

Cap'a  neus.  One  of  the  seven 
heroes  who  marched  against 
Thebes.  He  was  struck  dead  by 
a  thunderbolt  for  declaring  that 
not  Jupiter  himself  should  pre- 
vent his  scaling  the  city  walls. 
Evadne,  his  wife,  threw  herself 
into  the  flames  while  his  body 
was  burning  [183]. 

Ca'pet,  Hugh.  King  of  France 
(987-996)  [870]. 

Car'a-doc  Brief 'bras,  Sir.  A 
knight  of  the  Round  Table, 
great-nephew  of  King  Arthur, 
the  husband  of  the  only  lady  in 
the  queen's  train  who  could  wear 
"the  mantle  of  matrimonial 
fidelity"  [418-423]. 

Car'a-hue.  King  of  Mauretania 
[853ff.,  861]. 

Car'thage.  African  city,  the  home 
of  Dido  [262]. 

Ca8*san'dra.  The  daughter  of 
Priam  and  Hecuba,  gifted  with 
the  power  of  prophecy;  but 
Apollo,  whose  advances  she  had 
refused,  brought  it  to  paw*  that 
no  one  believed  her  predictions, 
although  they  were  invariably 
correct,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
coming  of  the  Greeks  [232]. 

Cas*si*bel*laun'us.  British 

chieftain,  fought,  but  not  con- 
quered, by  Caesar  [387]. 

Cas  •  si  •  o  •  pe'ia.  In  Greek  myth- 
ology, the  wife  of  Ce'pheus,  king 
of  Ethiopia,  and  mother  of  An- 


894 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


dromeda.  In  consequence  of  her 
boasting  of  the  beauty  of  her 
daughter,  she  was  sent  to  the 
heavens  as  the  constellation 
Cassiopeia  [118,  120]. 

Cas-ta'li-n.  A  fountain  of  Par- 
nassus, giving  inspiration  to  the 
oracular  priestess  Pythia  [297]. 

Cas  ta'Iian  Cave.  The  oracle  of 
Apollo  [92]. 

castes  [323-325]. 

Cas'tor  and  Pol'Iux.  T\vin 
biot hers,  offspring  of  Loda  and 
Jupiter  in  the  guise  of  a  swan. 
Castor  was  famous  as  a  horse- 
man, Pollux  as  a  pugilist.  They 
accompanied  the  Argonauts  and 
became  tho  patron  deities  of 
seamen  and  voyagers.  They 
were  the  brothers  of  Clytemnes- 
tra  and  Helen  whom  they  res- 
cued when  she  was  carried  off 
by  Theseus  [158],  During  their 
war  with  Idas  and  Lynceus, 
Ca&tor  was  slain.  Pollux  being 
inconsolable,  Jupiter  placed  both 
brothers  among  the  stars  [159]. 
They  are  also  known  as  the 
Dioscuri  (sons  of  Zeus)  and 
Tyndaridae  after  Tyndareus, 
their  mother's  husband.  [133, 
158-159,  202,  203] 

Cau'ca-sus,  Mount  [18,  43,  170]. 

Ca-vall'.  King  Arthur's  favorite 
dog  [564]. 

Ca-ys'ter.  A  river  in  Asia  Minor, 
now  called  Little  Meander, 
which  dried  up  when  Phaeton 
drove  the  sun  chariot  [44]. 

Ce  •  bri'o  •  nea.  Hector's  chariot- 
eer [220]. 

Ce'crops.  First  king  of  Athens 
[107]. 

Ce'le-us.  Husband  of  Metanira. 
Shepherd  who  sheltered  Ceres, 
seeking  Proserpine,  and  whose 
infant  son  Triptolemus  was  in 
gratitude  made  by  the  goddess 
tho  teacher  of  men  in  the  use  of 
the  plough  [54,  57]. 

Cel  •  li'ni,      Benvenuto      (1500- 


1571).  Italian  sculptor  and 
worker  in  gold  and  silver.  His 
autobiography  is  one  of  Italy's 
and  the  world's  most  famous 
classics  [316]. 

Cen'taurs.  Originally,  an  ancient 
race,  inhabiting  Mount  Pelion 
in  Thessaly;  in  later  accounts, 
they  are  represented  as  half 
horse  and  half  man,  and  are  said 
to  have  been  the  offspring  of 
Ixion  and  a  cloud  [127-128,  166]. 

Ceph'a-Ius.  Husband  of  beauti- 
ful but  jealous  Procris,  whom  ho 
accidentally  slew  while  hunting 
[26-2K],  Cephalus  is  also  the 
name  of  a  king  of  Athens  who 
made  war  on  King  Minos  of 
Crete  with  the  assistance  of 
Aeacus  of  Aegina  and  his  Myr- 
midons [95]. 

Ce'phe-us.  A  king  of  Ethiopia, 
husband  of  Cassiopeia  and  father 
of  Andromeda  [118-120]. 

Ceph'i-sus.  A  river  in  Greece 
[92]. 

Cer'be-rus.  Watch  dog  at  the 
entrance  to  Hades;  offspring  of 
Typhoon  and  Echidna;  gener- 
ally represented  with  throe 
heads,  a  mane  of  serpents'  heads 
and  a  serpent's  tail  [88,  147,  196, 
268]. 

Ce'res.  The  Roman  name  of 
Mother  Earth,  the  protectress  of 
agriculture  and  of  all  the  fruits 
of  the  earth;  later  identifiedwith 
the  Greek  Demeter  [8,  53-57,  86, 
169]. 

Ces'tus.  The  girdle  of  Venus, 
which  gave  the  power  of  excit- 
ing love  to  its  wearer  [6].  Juno 
borrowed  it  in  order  to  fascinate 
Jupiter  whose  attention  she 
wanted  to  bo  drawn  away  from 
the  contending  Trojan  and 
Greek  armies  [218]. 

Ceylon'.  Buddhism  in  Ceylon 
[326]. 

Ce'yx.  A  king  of  Thesaaly,  hus- 
band of  Halcyone  [69-75]. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


895 


Cha'os.  Original  Confusion  in 
which  earth,  sea,  and  air  were 
mixed  up  together  [12,  45].  It 
was  personified  by  the  Greeks  as 
the  most  ancient  of  the  gods. 
The  egg  of  Nyx,  the  daughter  of 
Chaos,  was  floating  on  Chaos 
and  from  it  arose  the  world  [4]. 

Char'le  •  magne.  Charles  the 
Great,  King  of  the  Franks  and 
Emperor  of  the  West  (742-S14), 
the  center  of  a  cycle  of  romances 
concerned  with  wars  against  the 
Saracens.  The  principal  source 
of  the  early  Carlovingian  legends 
is  a  chronicle  which  was  long 
falsely  attributed  to  Archbishop 
Turpin,  a  contemporary  of 
Charlemagne.  [375,  047,  650- 
05,),  664-072,  074,  801-813] 

Charles  Mar-tel'  (69(P-741). 
King  of  the  Franks,  grandfather 
of  Charlemagne,  called  "Martel" 
(the  Hammer)  from  his  victoiy 
over  the  Saracens  at  Tours 
[648-650]. 

Char'lot.  Son  of  Charlemagne 
[816-821,  825,  827,  852,  858]. 

Cha  •  ron.  The  .son  of  Erebos,  who 
conveyed  in  his  boat  the  shades 
of  the  dead  across  the  rivers  of 
the  lower  regions  [88,  207]. 

Cha-ryb'dis.  A  sea  monster 
which  sucked  in  and  discharged 
the  soa  three  times  a  day  in  a 
terrible  whirlpool.  Charybdis 
was  a  maiden  above  but  ended 
in  a  fish  begirt  with  dogs.  To- 
gether witli  Scylla  hhe  was 
placed  in  the  Straits  of  Messina 
[243-245,  261]. 

Chi  •  mae'ra.  A  fire-breathing 
monster  of  divine  origin.  It  was 
part  lion,  part  goat,  and  part 
dragon  [122].  It  dwelled  in 
Lycia  [125]  and  was  finally  killed 
by  Bellerophon  bridling  Pegasus 
with  a  golden  bridle  given  him 
by  Minerva  [125-126].  Aeneas 
found  it  in  the  infernal  regions 
[267]. 


China.  Buddhism  in  China  [326- 
327]. 

Chi'os.  Island  in  the  Aegean  Sea, 
west  of  Asia  Minor.  It  was  the 
realm  of  King  Oenopion,  father 
of  Merope  whom  Orion  loved 
[205]. 

Chi' ron.  The  wisest  of  the  cen- 
taurs, son  of  Cronos  arid  Philyra. 
He  was  instructed^by  Apollo  and 
Diana  and  became  in  turn  the 
teacher  of  Aesculapius  and  many 
distinguished  Grecian  heroes 
[127J.  He  helped  Peleu.s  to  win 
the  hand  of  the  goddess  Thetis 
[173].  On  his  death  he  was 
placed  by  Jupiter  among  the 
stars  [128]  where  he  appears  in 
the  shape  of  the  constellation 
Sagittarius.  [127-128,  J33,  173] 

Chry-se'is.  The  daughter  of 
Chrjses,  seized  by  Agamemnon 
as  a  slave  and  freed  under  pres- 
suie  from  Apollo  in  exchange  for 
Briseis  ^ho  had  been  Achilles' 
share  of  the  spoils  [210]. 

Chry'ses.  A  priest  of  Apollo  at 
Chrysa.  When  his  daughter 
Chryseis  was  seized  as  a  slave 
by  Agamemnon,  Apollo  heard 
his  prayer  and  sent  a  plague  to 
the  Greeks  which  was  not  stayed 
until  after  the  maiden  had  been 
restored  by  Ulysses  [210]. 

Ci'co'ni-ana.  The  inhabitants  of 
Isrnarus,  where  Ulysses  first 
made  land  and  lost  six  men  from 
each  ship  in  a  skirmish  [236]. 
Cim'bri.  An  ancient  people  of 
Central  Europe  of  uncertain 
identity.  With  the  Gauls  arid 
Teutons  they  overran  parts  of 
the  Roman  Empire  and  were 
virtually  annihilated  by  Mariua 
in  101  B.C.  [5291. 
Cim  •  me'ri  •  a.  A  mythical  coun- 
try of  mist,  gloom,  and  darkness 
[31,  71,  529]. 

Ci'mon.  A  celebrated  Athenian 
commander  who  discovered  the 
remains  of  Theseus  and  had 


896 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


them  transferred  to  the  Theseum 
at  Athens  [154]. 

Cir'ce.  A  sorceress,  sister  of 
Aeetes,  who  lived  in  the  island 
of  Aeaea.  When  Ulysses  landed 
there,  Circe  turned  his  compan- 
ions into  swine,  but  Ulysses  re- 
sisted this  metamorphosis  by 
virtue  of  a  herb  called  moly, 
given  him  by  Mercury  [00-61, 
117,  241-213]. 

Ci-thae'ron.  In  ancient  geogra- 
phy, a  mountain  range  between 
Attica  and  Boeotia.  It  was  the 
scene  of  the  Bacchic  festival  at 
which  king  Pentheus  of  Thebes 
was  torn  to  pieces  by  his  frenzied 
mother  and  aunts  [164].  It  was 
also  the  place  where  the  usurp- 
ing King  Lycus  of  Thebes  ex- 
posed Amphion  and  Zethus,  the 
sons  of  Queen  Antiope  [192]. 

Clar-i'mun'da.  Wife  of  Huon 
of  Bordeaux  [845-848]. 

clerks  [371]. 

Cli'o.  One  of  the  nine  Muses,  the 
patroness  of  history  [8]. 

Clor'i-dan.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando 
Furioso,  a  Moor,  the  friend  of 
Medoro  [747-751]. 

Clo'tho.  One  of  the  three  Fates, 
daughter  of  Themis  (Law).  Her 
name  signifies  "spinner."  She 
spins  the  thread  of  human  life 

[9]. 

Clym'e  •  ne.  An  ocean  nymph  [38- 
39]. 

Cly  •  tern  •  nes'tra.  The  wife  of 
Agamemnon,  whom  she  and  her 
paramour  Aegisthus  murdered 
after  his  return  from  Troy.  She 
was  slain  bv  her  son  Orestes 
[234]. 

Cly'tie.  A  water  nymph  in  love 
with  Apollo  [104-105]  and  meta- 
morphosed into  a  heliotrope. 

Cni'dos.  Ancient  city  of  Asia 
Minor,  seat  of  worship  of  Venus 
[66]. 

cock'a  •  trice.  A  fabulous  monster 
with  the  wings  of  a  fowl,  tail  of 


a  dragon,  and  head  of  a  cock. 
So  called  because  it  was  pro- 
duced from  a  cock's  egg  hatched 
by  a  serpent.  Its  very  look 
would  cause  instant  death.  In 
consequence  of  the  crest  with 
which  the  head  is  crowned,  it  is 
called  a  basilisk,  the  king  of  ser- 
pents [312-314]. 

Co-cy'tus.  One  of  the  rivers  of 
Hades  [267] 

Col'chis.  A  kingdom  east  of  the 
Black  Sea  [130-131,  137]. 

Col'o-phon.  One  of  the  seven 
cities  claiming  the  birth  of 
Homer  [307]. 

Co-lum'ba,  St.  (521-597).  An 
Irish  Christian  missionary  to  the 
druidical  parts  of  Scotland  [362- 
363]. 

Co'nan.  The  lord  of  Miniadoc  in 
Wales  who  collaborated  with  the 
Roman  general  Maximus  in  the 
conquest  of  Armonca,  which 
they  renamed  Brittany  or  Lessor 
Britain  [388]. 

Con'stan  tine.  A  Greek  Em- 
peror figuring  in  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne  [791-794]. 

Cor-deil'la.  Youngest  daughter 
of  the  mythical  King  Lear  [383- 
384]. 

Co  •  ri  •  ne'ua.  A  Trojan  warrior  in 
Albion,  whose  daughter  Guen- 
dolen  married  Locnne,  one  of 
the  sons  of  Brut  [381].  Corineus 
slew  the  giant  Gogmagog. 

Cor'inth.  City  and  Isthmus  of 
Corinth  [136,  151,  155,  195,  197, 
199]. 

cor-nu'co'pi-a.  Also  called  the 
horn  of  plenty  or  the  horn  of 
Amalthaea.  According  to  one 
legend  it  was  broken  of!  the  goat 
Amalthaea  by  the  infant  Jupiter, 
who  endowed  it  with  the  magic 
power  of  becoming  filled  with 
whatever  its  owner  wished,  and 
gave  it  to  hid  nurses  [170J. 

Corn' wall.  Southwest  part  of 
Britain  [381-382]. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


897 


Cor'ta'na.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  the  name  of 
Oder's  sword  [853-854,  865]. 

Cor  •  y  •  ban'tes.  The  Phrygian 
priests  of  Cybele,  whobe  worship 
was  celebrated  with  orgiastic 
dances  and  loud,  wild  music 
1143]. 

Co-vil'ham',  Pe'dro.  A  Portu- 
guese navigator  of  the  fifteenth 
century  who  identified  the  Negus 
of  Abyssinia  with  Prester  John 
[328]. 

Crab,  see  CANCER. 

cranes.  Enemies  of  the  Pygmies 
[128],  in  the  story  of  Ibycus 
[198-201]. 

Cre'on.    A  king  of  Thebes  [183]. 

Crete.  One  of  the  largest  islands 
of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  lying 
south  of  the  Cyclades  [95,  100, 
109,  152,  259]. 

Cre-u'sa.  Corinthian  princess, 
wife  of  Jason,  killed  by  Medea 
[130]. 

Croc'a-le.  A  nymph  of  Diana 
[34]. 

crom'lech.  Term  used  to  desig- 
nate an  altar  of  the  druids  [359]. 

Cro'nos.  One  of  the  Titans,  son 
of  Uranus  and  Ge,  father  (by 
Rhea)  of  Hestia,  Demeter,  Hera, 
Hades,  Poseidon,  and  Zeus.  He 
dethroned  his  father  as  ruler  of 
the  world,  and  was  in  turn  de- 
throned by  his  son,  Zeus  or 
Jupiter.  By  the  Romans  he  was 
identified  with  Saturn  [9,  301]. 

Cro-to'na  or  Cro'ton.  The  an- 
cient Cotrone  on  the  Ionian 
Sea,  where  Pythagoras  of  Samos 
passed  the  chief  portion  of  his 
life  [288].  In  510  B.C.  the  city 
of  Sybaris,  which  was  celebrated 
among  the  more  important  cities 
of  Magna  Graecia  for  luxury 
and  effeminacy,  was  conquered 
and  destroyed  by  an  army  under 
the  leadership  of  the  Crotonian 
athlete  Milo  [292].  Crotona  was 


colonized   by   the  Romans   194 

B.C. 
Cu-chu'lain.     Irish  hero,   called 

the   "Hound  of  Ireland"   [637- 

040]. 
Cul  dees'.    Followers  of  St.  Co- 

lumba  [30.1-3041. 
Cu-mae'an    Sibyl.      See    under 

SIBIL. 

Cu'pid.  The  god  of  love  in  Ro- 
man mythology  (Lat.  cupido, 
desire,  pas>ion),  identified  with 
the  Greek  Eros;  son  of  Mercury 
and  Venus  [7],  He  is  represented 
as  a  winged  boy,  carrying  a  bow 
and  arrows.  One  legend  says 
that  ho  wets  \\ith  blood  the 
grindstone  on  winch  he  sharpens 
Ins  arrows.  Cupid  and  Psyche  is 
an  episode  in  the  Golden  Ass  of 
Apule'ms  [80-90].  See  PSYCHIC. 
[7,  UO,  53,  h.~>,  80-90,  193]. 

Cu'roi  of  Kerry.  A  wise  man 
[G38-640] 

Cy'a-ne.  A  ri\er  which  opposed 
Pluto'.-  passage  to  Hades  [53-55]. 

Cyb'e-le.  The  wife  of  Cronus, 
mother  of  the  gods  of  Olympus, 
identified  with  Rhea.  In  Rome 
she  became  known  as  the  Great 
Mother  of  the  Gods  (Magna 
Dnim  Mater),  and  was  one  of 
the  most  important  deities  of  the 
Empire  [11,  142]. 

Cyclo'pes  (*ing.  Cyclops).  Crea- 
tures with  one  circular  eye  in 
the  middle  of  their  foreheads,  of 
whom  Homer  speaks  as  a  gigan- 
tic and  lawless  race  of  shepherds 
in  Sicily,  who  devoured  human 
beings  they  helped  Vulcan  to 
forge  the  thunderbolts  of  Zeus 
under  Aetna.  [122-123,  180,  205, 
209-210,  237-240,  247,  260] 

Cym'be-line.  A  mythical  prince 
of  Britain.  When  Caesar  in- 
vaded the  British  island,  he 
forced  the  Britons  to  pay  tribute 
and  took  Cymbeline  with  him 
as  a  hostage.  Cymbeline  was 
brought  up  in  Rome  as  a  Ro- 


898 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


man.  When  he  became  king  of 
Britain,  he  lived  peacefully  with 
the  Romans.  After  his  death 
his  sons  Guiderius  and  Arviragus 
refused  to  pay  tribute  and  a  new 
Roman  invasion  ensued  [388]. 

Cy'no-sure.  From  Greek  "dog's 
tail."  The  last  star  of  the  tail  of 
the  Lesser  Bear  [33],  now  the 
pole  star.  Also  the  constellation 
itself.  Cynosura,  before  being 
placed  among  the  stars,  was  a 
nymph  of  Ida,  a  nurse  of  Jupiter. 

Cyn'thi-an  mountain  top.  The 
birthplace  of  Diana  and  Apollo 
[112]. 

Cy'prua.  An  island  off  the  coast 
of  Syria,  sacred  to  Venus  [6,  63, 
66,  78,  142,  233]. 

Cyre'ne.  A  nymph,  mother  of 
Aristaeus  [189-190]. 


Dae'da  lus.  Literally,  the  cun- 
ning worker.  A  personification 
of  skill  in  the  mechanical  art; 
the  patron  of  artists'  and  crafts- 
men's guilds.  As  the  hero  of 
legends  and  tales,  Daedalus  was 
an  inventive  Athenian,  son  of 
Metion  and  grandson  of  Erech- 
theus,  who  originated  axes,  awls, 
bevels,  and  the  like.  He  was  the 
architect  who  built  the  labyrinth 
for  king  Minos  of  Crete  [152]. 
Imprisoned  in  it  himself,  Daeda- 
lus fashioned  wings  for  himself 
and  his  son  Icarus  and  escaped 
to  Sicily.  Icarus  fell  into  the 
sea,  but  his  father  reached  Sicily 
safely.  Daedalus  also  had  a 
nephew,  Perdix,  of  whose  skill 
he  was  envious.  Ho  tried  to  kill 
him  by  pushing  him  off  a  tower, 
but  Minerva  intervened,  saving 
the  boy's  life  by  changing  him 
into  a  partridge  [156-157]. 

Dag'ue  •  net.  King  Arthur's  court- 
fool  [469]. 


Da'lai  La'ma.  The  chief  pontiff 
of  Tibet  [327]. 

Da'na-e.  Daughter  of  King  Acri- 
sius  of  Argos  who  did  not  want 
her  to  marry  and  kept  her  im- 
prisoned because  he  had  been 
told  that  his  daughter's  son 
would  kill  him.  Jupiter  came  to 
her  in  the  disguise  of  a  shower  of 
gold  arid  she  became  the  mother 
of  Perseus.  She  and  her  child 
were  set  adrift  in  a  chest  and 
saved  by  a  fisherman  on  the 
island  of  Seriphos  [202]. 

Da •  na'i  •  dca.  The  fifty  daughters 
of  Dan'aus,  King  of  Argos. 
They  married  the  fifty  sons  of 
Aegyptus,  and  all  but  Hyperm- 
ne«tra,  wife  of  Lynceus,  at  the 
command  of  their  father  mur- 
dered their  husbands  on  their 
wedding  night.  They  were  pun- 
ished in  Hades  by  having  to 
draw  water  everlastingly  in 
sieves  from  a  deep  well  [186]. 

Dan'a-us.  Grandson  of  Neptune, 
founder  of  Argos,  father  of  the 
Danaides  who  slew  their  hus- 
bands at  his  command  [186]. 

Daph'ne.  A  nymph,  daughter  of 
a  river  god,  and  loved  by  Apollo, 
who  killed  his  rival  Leucippua 
Daphne  escaped  and  was  latei 
changed  into  a  laurel  or  bay  tree 
which  remained  henceforth  the 
favorite  tree  of  the  sun  god  [20- 
23]. 

Dar  da  nelles',  see  HELLESPONT- 

Dar'da  nus.  Progenitor  of  the 
Trojan  kings  [206,  259]. 

Dar'di-nel.  Prince  of  Zumara 
[745J. 

Day.  With  Year,  Month,  and 
Hours,  one  of  the  attendants  of 
the  sun  god  Phoebus  Apollo  [39]. 

Death.  Personification  of  death 
[181,  220,  266].  See  also  HELA. 

De-ia-ni'ra  or  De-ja-ni'ra.  A 
daughter  of  Oeneus  and  Althaea, 
sister  of  Meleager,  wooed  by 
Achilous  but  finally  married  to 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


899 


Hercules.  She  killed  her  hus- 
band inadvertently  by  causing 
him  to  wear  the  blood-steeped 
shirt  of  Nessus,  the  latter  having 
told  her  that  this  action  would 
assure  her  of  Hercules'  undying 
love  [147,  177,  179].  Deianira 
ended  her  life  for  grief. 
De •  iph'o  •  bus.  Son  of  Pnam  and 
Hecuba,  the  bravest  brother  of 
Paris  1213,  224]. 

De'Ios.  A  floating  island,  birth- 
place of  Apollo  and  Diana,  ulti- 
mately made  fast  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea  by  Neptune.  Apollo 
having  become  possessor  of  it  by 
exchange  made  it  his  favorite 
retreat.  It  is  the  smallest  of  the 
Cyelades  [38,  157,  162,  259] 
Del'phi.  A  town  of  Phoc-is  at  the 
foot  of  Mount  Parnassus,  fa- 
mous for  a  temple  of  Apollo  and 
an  oracle  which  was  silenced 
only  in  the  4th  century  A.D. 
[1,  21,  12;5,  155,  234-235,  297- 
298]. 

De-me'ter.  One  of  the  great 
Olympian  deities  of  ( Greece, 
identified  with  the  Roman 
Ceres.  She  \\as  the  goddess  of 
vegetation  and  the  protectiess 
of  marriage.  Persephone  (Pro- 
serpine) was  her  daughter  [8]. 
De  me'ti  a.  South  Wales  [407]. 
De  •  mod'o  •  cus.  A  minstrel  who 
sang  the  amours  of  Mars  and 
Venus  in  the  court  of  Aleinous 
while  Ulysses  was  a  guest  there 
[202,  252]. 

Deu  ca'li  on.  A  king  of  Phthia 
in  Thessaly,  son  of  Prometheus 
and  Clymene.  With  his  wife 
Pyrrha  he  survived  the  deluge 
sent  by  Zeus  by  withdrawing  to 
a  chest  which  landed  on  Mount 
Parnassus  [10-17].  He  was  the 
Noah  of  the  Greeks  [311). 
Di-a'na.  A  Roman  goddess,  later 
identified  with  the  Olympian 
Artemis,  who  was  daughter  of 
Zeus  and  Leto,  and  twin-sister 


of  Apollo.  She  was  the  goddess 
of  the  moon  and  of  hunting, 
protectress  of  women,  and — in 
earlier  times,  at  least — the  great 
mother  goddess  of  Nature  [P>,  21, 
20,  30,  34-30,  38,  53,  56,  101, 
112,  123,  127,  llUn,  138-139, 
141,  154,  204,  206,  214,  235,  259, 
278,  280,  314,  380] 

Diana  a  la  biche,  Diana  of  the 
Hind.  Antique  sculpture  in  the 
Louvre  at  Paris  [306]. 

Dic'tys.    A  sailor  [162,  202]. 

Did'i-er.  King  of  the  Lombards 
[053]. 

Di'do.  The  name  given  by  Virgil 
to  Elissa,  founder  and  queen  of 
Carthage.  She  fell  in  love  with 
Aeneas  who  was  compelled  by 
Mercury  to  leave  the  hospitable 
queen.  Klissa,  in  grief,  burns 
herself  to  death  on  a  funeral  pile. 
[262-263,  208] 

Di-o-me'des.  A  hero  of  the  siege 
of  Troy,  king  of  Aetoha,  brave 
and  obedient  to  authority.  On 
his  return  homo  he  found  his 
wife  living  in  adultery  [213,  219, 
229,  232]. 

Di-o'ne.  A  female  Titan,  daugh- 
ter of  Oceanus  and  Tethys,  and 
by  Jupiter  mother  of  Venus  [6]. 

Di-o-ny'sus,  see  BATCHI'S. 

Di  os  cu'ri.  Literally,  the  ''ons 
of  Zeus  (Jupiter).  Castor  jvid 
Pollux,  the  twin  brothers,  off- 
spring of  Leda  and  the  Swan 
under  which  disguise  Jupiter 
had  concealed  himself  [159]. 

Dir'ce.  The  wife  of  Lycus,  king 
of  Thebes,  who  ordered  Amphion 
and  Zethus  to  tie  Antiope  to  a 
wild  bull.  When  they  learned 
that  Antiope  was  their  mother, 
they  so  treated  Dirce  herself 
[192]. 

Di«,  see  PLUTO. 

Dis  cor'di  a.    See  Ems. 

Do-do'na.  A  village  in  Epirus, 
site  of  the  most  ancient  oracle 


900 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


of  Greece,  which  was  dedicated 
to  Zeus  or  Jupiter  [296]. 

Don'ner.  In  Wagner's  Ring,  one 
of  the  principal  gods,  corre- 
sponding to  Thor  [354]. 

Dor'ce-us.  One  of  the  dogs  pur- 
suing Actacon  when  Diana  had 
changed  him  into  a  stag  [35]. 

Do'ris.  The  daughter  of  Oceanus 
and  Tethys,  married  to  her 
brother  Nereus,  and  mother  of 
the  fifty  (or  one  hundred) 
Nereids  [44,  173]. 

douzepers,  see  PEERS. 

dragon's  teeth.  Cadmus  sowed 
dragon's  teeth  out  of  which 
sprang  two  legions  of  armed 
men  [301]. 

druid.  A  member  of  the  ancient 
Gaulish  and  British  order  of 
priests,  teachers  of  religion,  ma- 
gicians, or  sorcerers.  The  word 
is  the  Lat.  aruulae  or  dnndes 
(always  plural),  which  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  Old  Irish  drui 
and  Gaelic  draoi.  The  rites  of 
the  Druids  were  conducted  in 
oak  groves.  They  studied  the 
stars  and  believed  in  the  trans- 
migration of  souls.  Their  dis- 
tinguishing badge  was  a  ser- 
pent's egg  [358-362]. 

dry 'ad.  A  nymph  whose  life  was 
bound  up  with  that  of  a  tree. 
Also  called  hamadryad  or  in 
English  wood  nymph.  [76,  167, 
169,  172]. 

Dry'o-pe.  Sister  of  lole  and  wife 
of  Andraemon.  For  having 
plucked  inadvertently  the  lotus 
into  which  the  nymph  Lotis  had 
been  changed,  Dryope  herself 
was  changed  into  a  lotus  [64-65]. 

Du  •  bri'ci  •  us.  Bishop  of  Caerleon 
[407-408]. 

Du'don.  A  knight,  comrade  of 
Astolpho  [783]. 

Dun  •  wal'lo  Mol  •  mu'ti  •  us.  Brit- 
ish king  and  lawgiver  [385]. 

Du  •  ran  •  da'na  or  Du  •  Hn  •  da'na. 
Orlando's  sword,  given  him  by 


his  cousin  Malagi'gi.  It  once 
belonged  to  Hector,  was  made 
by  the  fairies,  and  could  cleave 
the  Pyrenees  at  a  blow.  [658, 
672,  687,  699,  754,  759,  765, 
785-788] 

dwarf.  In  Teutonic  myths,  the 
dwarfs  are  small  manlike  beings, 
versed  in  the  lore  of  mineral  and 
skillful  as  forgers  of  weapons 
and  treasures  for  the  gods.  In 
Wagner's  Nibdungen  Ring  [354] 
they  are  crafty  and  cunning  and 
dwell  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 


Earth,  see  GAKA. 

eastern  mythology  [318-328]. 

E-bu'di-ans.  The  inhabitants  of 
the  island  of  Ebuda,  who,  in  the 
legends  of  Charlemagne,  al>- 
ducted  the  virgin  Angelica  to 
appease  the  monstrous  Ore  [732- 
733]. 

Ech'o.  The  nymph  of  Diana,  who, 
shunned  by  Narcissus,  faded  to 
nothing  but  a  voice  [101-103]. 
She  was  punished  by  Juno  be- 
cause her  prattling  had  pre- 
vented Jupiter's  irate  wife  from 
surprising  him  in  the  company 
of  the  nymphs:  she  was  con- 
demned never  to  speak  first  and 
never  to  be  silent  when  anyone 
else  spoke. 

Eck'e-lied.  A  Middle  High  Ger- 
man epic  of  the  Theodoric  cycle, 
written  toward  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century  and  com- 
monly known  as  Eckcs  Ausfahrt. 
It  was  used  by  Wagner  as  a  sec- 
ondary source  for  his  Ring  [354]. 

Ed'da.  This  name — either  from 
Eddo,  the  great-grandmother  in 
the  Old  Norse  poem  Rigsthul, 
or  from  the  old  Norse  odhr,  po- 
etry— is  given  to  two  separate 
works  or  collections.  The  Elder 
or  Poetic  Edda  was  discovered  in 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


901 


1643  by  an  Icelandic  bishop,  and 
consists  of  mythological  poems 
dating  from  the  9th  century  and 
supposed  to  have  been  collected 
in  the  13th  century.    They  are 
of    unknown     authorship,     but 
were  erroneously  attributed  to 
Saemund    Sigfus.son    (d.    1133), 
and   this  has  hence   sometimes 
been    called    Saemurid's    Edda. 
The  Younger  Edda  orPiose  Edda 
of  Snorn  is  a  work  in  piose  and 
verse   by   Snorri   Sturluson    (d. 
1242),    and    forms    a    guide    to 
poets  and  poetry.    It  consists  of 
the  (.JylfaginmnQ  (an  epitome  of 
Scandinavian    mythology),    the 
Bragaraeour  or  sayings  of  Bragi, 
the  SkaUlskaparmal  (a  glossary 
of  poetical  expressions,  etc.),  the 
Hattatal  (a  list  of  meters,  with 
examples  of  all  known  forms  of 
verse),   with  a  preface,  history 
of  the  origin  of  poetry,  lists  of 
poets,  etc.  [329,  31S,  351,  354]. 
Ed'e-ryn.    Son  of  Nudd  [502]. 
E-ge'ri-a.   In  Roman  mythology, 
that  one  of  the  Camenae  who 
instructed  the  wi^e  King  Numa 
Pompilius  and  pined  away  after 
his  death  [175]. 
Egypt  [123,  163,  233,  296]. 
Egyptian  deities  [292-293]. 
Eis-  tedd'fod.     The   meetings   of 
the  Welsh  bards  held  annually 
for  the  encouragement  of  Welsh 
literature  and  music.   Welsh,  "a 
sessions,"   from  emtcdd,    to   sit. 
[361] 

E-lec'tra.  One  of  the  Pleiades, 
wife  of  Dardanus,  known  as  "the 
Lost  Pleiad,"  for  she  disap- 
peared a  little  before  the  Trojan 
war,  that  she  might  be  saved  the 
mortification  of  seeing  the  ruin 
of  her  beloved  city  [206].  An- 
other, better  known  Electra  is 
the  daughter  of  Agamemnon 
and  Clytemnestra,  sister  of  Iphi- 
genia  and  of  Orestes.  She  as- 
sisted Orestes  in  avenging  their 


father's  death  by  slaying  their 
mother,  Clytemnestra  [234-235]. 
El  •  eu  •  sin'i  •  an  mysteries.  Mys- 
teries instituted  by  Ceres,  and 
calculated  to  awaken  feelings  of 
piety  and  cheerful  hope  of  better 
life  in  the  future  [57]. 
E-leu'sis.  Seat  of  a  cult  of  Ceres 
and  the  Eleusinian  mysteries 
[54,  57]. 

El'gin  Marbles.  Greek  sculptures 
from  the  Parthenon  of  Athens, 
now  in  the  British  Museum, 
London,  placed  there  by  Lord 
Elgin  [155]. 
E •  li  •  au'res.  In  Arthurian  legend, 

an  enchanter  [419]. 
El'i-dure.     A  legendary  king  of 
Britain,   who   was   advanced  to 
the  throne  in  place  of  his  elder 
brother,  Aithgallo,  f-uppo^ed  by 
him  to  be  dead.    Arthgallo  re- 
turned and  1  hduro  resigned  to 
him  the  throne  [386]. 
E'lis.    An  ancient  city  in  Greece 

[55,  144,  155]. 
E-lis'sa,  see  DIDO. 
El'li.    Old  age;  the  one  successful 

wrestler  against  Thor  [341]. 

El'phin.    Son  of  King  Gwyddno 

of  Gwaelod.   He  found  the  bard 

TalieMn  in  a  leather  bag  in  his 

weir  [626-627],    Tahesin  helped 

him   to  prove  the  truth  of  his 

boast  about  the  virtuousness  of 

his  wife  [627-633]. 

elves.     Spiritual  beings  of  many 

power*   and   dispositions,   some 

being  e\il,  and  some  good  [348]. 

El  •  vid'nir.   The  hall  of  Hela  [333]. 

E'lys'i-an  Fields,   see  ELYSIUM. 

£•  lys'i  •  um.  A  happy  land,  where 

there  is  neither  snow,  nor  cold, 

nor  rain.   Hither  favored  heroes, 

like     Menelaus,     pass     without 

dying,  anil  live  happy  under  the 

rule  of  Rhadamanthus.    In  the 

Latin  poets,  Elysium  is  part  of 

the  lower  world,   and  the  re«i- 

dence  of  the  shades  of  the  blessed 

[2,  196,  269,  272-273]. 


902 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Em'bla.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 
first  woman,  created  out  of  an 
elder  by  the  gods  Odin,  Vili,  Vo 
[329].  The  first  man  was  Ask. 

En  cel'a-dus.  A  hundred-armed 
giant,  son  of  Tartarus  and  Gaca. 
With  Typhon,  Briareus,  and 
others  he  warred  against  the 
gods  [52].  He  was  so  strong  that 
to  keep  him  to  the  ground  the 
weight  of  the  whole  of  Mount 
Aetna  would  have  been  required 
[122]. 

En  •  dym'i  •  on.  A  beautiful  youth 
beloved  by  Diana  [62,  204]. 

England,  mythical  history  of 
[378-389]. 

E'nid.   Wife  of  Geraint  [568,  573]. 

En'na.  The  vale  of  Enna  was  the 
home  of  Proserpine  [53,  58]. 

E'noch.  One  of  the  patriarchs, 
son  of  Jarcd,  father  of  Methuse- 
lah [772]. 

Epi-dau'rus.  A  town  in  Argolis, 
on  the  Saronic  gulf;  it  is  the 
chief  scat  of  the  worship  of 
Aesculapius,  whose  temple  was 
situated  near  the  town  [94-95, 
151,  298]. 

Ep'i'me'the-us.  Son  of  Tapetus, 
brother  of  Prometheus  and  hus- 
band of  Pandora;  took  part  in 
the  creation  of  man  [13,  18]. 

E-pi'rus.  A  country  to  the  west 
of  Thessuly,  lying  along  the 
Adriatic  Sea  [260,  292]. 

E-po'p«-u8.  Name  of  a  Greek 
sailor  [162]. 

Er'a-to.  One  of  the  nine  Muses, 
the  patroness  of  erotic  poetry 
[8]. 

Er'bin.  Son  of  Custennin,  uncle 
of  King  Arthur,  and  father  of 
Geraint  [568-570] . 

Er'e*bus.  A  place  of  darkness 
through  which  the  souls  passed 
on  their  way  to  Hades.  Hence, 
loosely,  the  nether  regions  [88, 
187]  of  which  Proserpine  [56] 
and  Pluto  [153]  were  the  rulers. 
Personified,  Erebus  was  among 


the  first  beings  [4],  son  of  Chaos, 
brother  of  Nyx,  and,  dwelling  in 
Hades,  father  of  Aether  and 
Day.  [4,  56,  88,  153,  187,  274] 

E-rid-a'nus.  In  Greek  legend,  a 
large  river  in  northern  Europe, 
variously  identified  as  the  Rhone 
or  Po  [45| . 

E'rin'ya  (plural  ETin'y«*)»  see 
FLRY. 

Er-i-phy'le.  Sister  of  Polynices. 
She  was  bribed  to  decide  on  the 
war  in  which  her  husband  was 
slain  [182,  1S3]. 

E'ris.  The  goddess  of  discord, 
sister  of  Ares  or  Mars.  At  the 
wedding  of  Pelcuh  and  Thetis, 
Eris,  bomg  uninvited,  threw  into 
the  gathering  an  apple  ben  ring 
the  inscription  "For  the  Fair- 
est," which  was  claimed  by 
Juno,  Venus,  and  Minerva. 
Paris,  being  called  upon  for 
judgment,  awarded  it  to  Venus 
[211]. 

Er-i-sich'thon.  An  impious  por- 
sori  who  profaned  a  grove  sac-rod 
to  Ceres  by  cutting  down  a  great 
oak.  lie?  was  punished  by  inces- 
sant hunger  [167,  109-171,  177]. 

E'ros.  The  Givek  god  of  love,  the 
youngest  of  all  the  gods;  equiva- 
lent to  the  Roman  Cupid.  See 
CUPID. 

Er-ythe'ia.   An  island  [145-140]. 

E'ryx.  A  city  and  mountain  in 
Sicily.  Site  of  a  temple  of  Venus 
[53]. 

E-se'pus.  River  in  Paphlagonia 
[208]. 

Es-tril'dis.  A  fair  captive  from 
Germany,  whom  King  Locrine 
married  after  having  repudiated 
Guendolen.  Guendolen  took  re- 
venge by  having  Estrildis  with 
her  daughter  Sabra  thrown  into 
the  Severn  River  [381-382]. 

E-te'o-cles  and  Po  •  ly  •  ni'ces. 
The  two  sons  of  Oe'dipus.  After 
the  expulsion  of  their  father, 
they  agreed  to  reign  alternate 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


903 


years  in  Thebes.  Eteocles  took 
the  first  turn,  but  at  the  close  of 
the  year  refused  to  resign  the 
scepter  to  his  brother.  This  was 
the  cause  of  the  "Seven  against 
Thebes."  Eteocles  and  Polyni- 
ces  met  in  combat  and  each  was 
slain  by  the  other's  hand  [182- 
183]. 

E  thi-o'p>  ans.  From  Greek 
aithiops,  cither  derived  from  or 
popularly  associated  with  a? them, 
"to  burn"  and  ops,  "face."  The 
country  of  the  Ethiopians  lay 
south  of  Egypt,  close  to  the 
stream  of  Ocean  [2].  Cepheus, 
husband  of  Cassiopeia  [120]  arid 
father  of  Andromeda,  was  one 
of  their  kings  [118].  Mernnon, 
the  son  of  Aurora  and  Tithonus 
[207],  who  fell  in  the  Trojan  war 
as  an  ally  of  the  Trojans,  was 
another  [208]. 

E- trus'cans.  An  ancient  people 
of  Italy  [281]. 

Et'zel.  In  the  NibilunQenhed,  the 
name  of  Attila,  the  King  of  the 
Huns,  whom  Kriemhild  marries 
to  wreak  vengeance  on  her  fam- 
ily and  Hagen,  the  slayer  of 
Siegfried  [353].  The  historical 
Attila  died  in  453  A.D. 

Eu  •  bo'ic  Sea.  The  sea  into  which 
Hercules  threw  Lichas  who 
brought  the  shirt  of  Nessus 
[148].  ^ 

Eude.  King  of  Aquitainc,  ally  of 
Charles  M artel  [649]. 

Eu-mae'us.  The  swineherd  of 
Aeneas  [254,  257]. 

Eu  men'i  des.  Literally,  the 
gracious  ones.  A  euphemistic 
term,  used  by  the  Greeks  to  re- 
fer to  the  terrible  Erinyes  or 
Furies  in  order  to  propitiate 
them  [201,  234]. 

Eu-phor'bus.  A  Trojan  warrior, 
slain  by  Menelaus  who  dedi- 
cated his  shield  to  Juno  in  her 
temple  near  Mycenae  [289]. 

Eu'phra-tes.    Mentioned  as  one 


of  the  rivers  which  dried  up 
when  Phaeton  drove  the  sun 
chariot  [44]. 

Eu  •  phros'y  •  ne.  One  of  the  Three 
Graces  [8]. 

Eu-ro'pa.  A  daughter  either  of 
Phoenix  or  of  Agenor,  famed  for 
her  beauty.  Jupiter  in  the  form 
of  a  white  bull  carried  her  off 
and  swam  with  her  to  the  island 
of  Crete.  She  wa-?  the  mother  of 
Minos,  Rhadamanthus  and 
Evandros  and  according  to  some 
forms  of  the  legend,  of  the  Mino- 
taur [91,  109J. 

Eu'rus.    The  east  wind  [176]. 

Eu-ry'a-lus.  A  gallant  Tiojan 
soldier,  who  with  Xi.sus  entered 
the  Grecian  camp,  both  being 
slam  [2S2-2S4]. 

Eu-ryd'i-ce.  The  wife  of  Or- 
pheus. Fleeing  from  an  admirer, 
she  was  killed  by  a  Miake  and 
borne  to  Tartarus,  where  Or- 
pheus sought  her  and  was  per- 
mitted to  bring  her  to  earth  if 
he  would  not  look  back  at  her 
following  him.  He  could  not  re- 
sist, however,  and  Kurydice  was 
forced  to  return  to  the  shades 
[185-188,  191,  196]. 

Eu-ryl'o-chus.  The  only  com- 
panion of  Ulysses  whom  Circe 
was  unable  to  change  into  a  hog 
[241]. 

Eu  •  ryn'o  •  me.  Female  Titan,  t  he 
wife  of  Ophion  [4-5]. 

Eu-rys'theus.  The  cousin  of 
Hercules,  who,  on  the  urging  of 
Juno,  imposed  upon  that  hero 
his  twelve  labors  [128,  143-147]. 

Eu-ryt'i-on.  The  Centaur,  who, 
at  the  marriage  feast  of  Pirithous 
with  Hippodamia,  became  in- 
toxicated and  offered  violence  to 
the  bride,  thus  causing  the  cele- 
brated battle  of  the  Lapithae 
and  Centaurs  [127].  Eurytion 
was  also  the  name  of  the  giant 
guarding  Geryon's  cattle  and 
slain  by  Hercules  [145]. 


904 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Eu'ter'pe.  One  of  the  nine 
Muses,  the  patroness  of  flute- 
players  and  of  joy  and  pleasure 
[8]. 

Eux'ine  Sea.  The  Black  Sea  [2, 
130], 

E-vad'ne.  The  wife  of  Capaneus. 
She  threw  herself  on  the  funeral 
pile  of  her  husband,  and  was 
consumed  with  him  [182-183]. 

E-van'der.  A  son  of  Mercury  and 
an  Arcadian  nymph.  Ho  was 
banished  from  Arcadia  about 
sixty  years  before  the  Trojan 
war  and  led  a  group  of  colonists 
into  Italy.  In  the  Acneid,  he 
welcomes  Aeneas  to  Italy  after 
his  escape  from  Troy  [279-281, 
285]. 

Eve  [5,  17,  301]. 

Ev'niss'yen.  In  Celtic  lesrend, 
the  quarrelsome  brother  of 
Bran  wen  [590-591]. 

Ex-cal'i-bur  or  Ex-cal'i-bar. 
The  sword  of  King  Arthur.  He 
unfixed  it  from  a  stone,  which 
no  one  else  had  been  able  to  do, 
and  thus  proved  himself  worthy 
of  being  the  king  [398-399].  Ac- 
cording to  another  version,  ho 
received  it  from  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake  [4131.  When  ho  was  about 
to  die  [519],  he  had  Sir  Bedivere 
throw  it  back  into  the  lake.  [398- 
400,  413-414,  519] 


Faf'ner.  In  Wagner's  Ring,  one 
of  the  giants  that  built  Valhalla 
for  Wotan.  He  and  his  brother 
Fasolt  accept  Alberich's  golden 
hoard  as  payment  in  place  of 
Freya,  the  price  originally  agreed 
upon.  Fafner  kills  Fasolt  and 
transforms  himself  into  a  dragon 
to  guard  the  hoard  which  is  now 
his.  He  is  killed  by  Siegfried 
[354-356].  In  the  Norse  sources, 
Fafnir  (not  Fafner)  has  no 


brother  and  is  guarding  Andva- 
ri's  gold  as  a  venom-breathing 
dragon  from  the  start. 

Fal-e-ri'na.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  a  powerful  en- 
chantress [078,  686,  688]. 

Fa'solt.  In  Wagner's  Ri,n(j,  the 
brother  of  the  giant  Fafner.  To- 
gether they  own  the  golden 
hoard  of  the  Nibelungs  until 
Fafntor  slays  Fasolt  because  ho 
cannot  bear  the  idea  of  having 
to  share  so  valuable  a  treasure 
[354]. 

Fas'ti.  Literally,  "days  on  which 
one  may  speak  "  A  mythologi- 
cal poetic  calendar  by  Ovid 
[309]. 

Fa'ta  Mor-ga'na  [691]. 

Fates.  The  three  goddesses  de- 
termining the  course  of  human 
life.  They  are  described  as 
daughters  of  Night— to  indicate 
the  darkness  and  obscurity  of 
human  destiny — or  of  Zeu.s  and 
Themis,  that  is,  "daughters  of 
the  just  heavens."  They  were 
Clotho,  who  spun  the  thread  of 
life;  Lachesis,  who  held  it  and 
fixed  its  length;  and  Atropos, 
who  cut  it  off  [9,  56,  67,  170, 
180- LSI], 

Fau'na,  see  BONA  DBA. 

fauns.  Cheeit'ul  sylvan  doilies, 
represented  in  human  form,  with 
small  hoi  ns,  pointed  ears,  and 
sometimes  goat's  tails  [10,  76]. 
They  wete  the  god  Fuunus  con- 
sidered not  as  an  individual  but 
rather  as  representing  a  class  of 
gamesome  deities. 

Fau'nus.  In  Roman  mythologyf 
a  rural  deity;  son  of  Picus, 
grandson  of  Saturn  [10]  and 
father  of  Acis,  the  suitor  of 
Galatea  [209],  and  of  Latinus, 
the  father  of  Lavmia  [276].  He, 
as  well  as  Silvanus,  came  to  be 
more  and  more  identified  with 
the  Greek  Pan,  with  whom  he 
had  many  traits  in  common 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


905 


[166].  His  priests  were  the 
Luperci,  his  main  festival  the 
Lupercalia.  When  not  viewed 
as  an  individual,  he  appeared  in 
the  multiformity  of  the  fauns, 
possibly  under  the  influence  of 
the  Greek  panes,  satyrs,  etc.  in 
their  relation  with  Pan.  [10,  36, 
166,  209,  276] 

Fa-von'i-us.  In  Roman  my- 
thology, a  personification  of  the 
west  wind.  Identical  with  Zcph- 
yrua  [176]. 

Fen'rir.  In  Norse  mythology, 
with  Hel  and  the  Midgard  ser- 
pent, offspring  of  Loki  [332]  by 
the  giantess  Angerbotha  [344]. 
Having  tlio  form  of  a  wolf,  he  is 
al?o  known  as  the  Fenris-wolf. 
The  god  dunned  him  with  a 
special  chain  called  Gleiphir. 
But  in  the  process  he  bit  off 
Tyr's  hand  [333]  At  Ragiiarok, 
Fenrtr  will  repair  to  the  battle- 
field of  Vigrid,  where  he  will  kill 
Odin  and  in  turn  be  killed  by 
Odin's  son  Vidar  [349]. 

Fen'ris-wolf,  see  FENRIU. 

Fen-sa'lir.  Literally,  halls  of  fen. 
In  Norse  mythology,  Frigga's 
palace,  called  the  Hall  of  the 
Sea,  where  were  brought  to- 
gether lovers,  husbands,  and 
wives  whom  death  had  sepa- 
rated [344]. 

Fer'ra-gus.  A  giant,  opponent  of 
Orlando  [657-658]. 

Fer'rau.  One  of  Charlemagne's 
knights  [677,  669,  737]. 

Fer'rex  and  Por'rex.  Two  sons  of 
Gorboduc  who  divided  his  king- 
dom between  them.  Porrex 
drove  his  brother  from  Britain, 
and  when  Ferrex  returned  with 
an  army  he  was  slain,  but  Por- 
rex was  shortly  after  put  to 
death  by  his  mother  [385]. 

fire-worshipers.    See  PARSERS. 

Flol'lo.  In  Arthurian  Legend,  a 
Roman  Tribune,  governor  of  the 
Province  of  Gaul.  He  challenged 


Arthur  to  single  combat  and  was 
killed  [105-406]. 

Flo'ra.  In  Roman  mythology,  the 
goddess  of  flowers  and  spring 
[10].  The  wind  Zephyrus  was 
her  lover  [176]. 

Flor-de-lis.  A  fair  maiden  be- 
loved by  Florismart  [675-676, 
678,  683,  702,  763,  767] . 

Flor'is-mart.  One  of  Charle- 
magne's paladins,  and  the  bosom 
friend  of  Roland  [656,  675-676, 
678,  692,  702,  737,  740,  764,  783- 
789]. 

Floss -hil'da.  In  Wagner's  Ring 
(not  in  actual  mythology),  one 
of  the  three  Rhindedaughters 
guarding  the  Nibeluugen  Hoard 
[354]. 

Fortunate  Fields,  see  FOUTU- 
N\TK  ISL\XDS. 

Fortunate  Islands.  Also  called 
Islands  01  Isles  of  the  Blessed, 
Happy  Islanbs,  Fortunate 
Fields.  Imaginary  islands  in 
the  western  ocean  where  mortals 
favored  by  the  gods  were  trans- 
ported to  enjoy  the  bliss  of  im- 
mortality [2,  147,  273]. 

Fo'rum.  Market-place  and  open 
square  for  public  meetings  in 
Rome,  surrounded  by  court- 
houses, palaces,  temples,  etc. 
[281]. 

France,  invasion  of  [693-711]. 

Fran'cus.  Son  of  Histion,  grand- 
son of  Japhet,  great-grandson  of 
Noah,  arid  legendary  ancestor 
of  the  Franks  or  French  [3791, 

freemen  [371]. 

Fre'ki.  One  of  the  two  wolves 
which  lie  at  Odin's  feet  when  he 
is  seated  on  his  throne.  The 
name  of  his  fellow  is  Geri.  To- 
gether they  eat  ail  their  master's 
food,  for  he  needs  none  [330]. 

Frey  or  Freyr.  In  Norse  mythol- 
ogy, the  brother  of  Freya,  son  of 
Njord,  and  god  of  rain,  sunshine, 
and  growth  [332].  He  possessed 
a  wonderful  weapon  which  he 


906 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


had  to  give  to  Skirnir  who  ob- 
tained for  him  the  hand  of 
Gerda,  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
women  [336].  From  the  elves  he 
received  Skidbladmr,  a  huge 
ship,  large  enough  for  all  the 
gods  [348].  At  Ragnarok  he  will 
be  killed  by  Surtur  [349],  the 
leader  of  the  giants.  [332,  33G, 
347-349] 

Frey'a.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 
sister  of  Frey  [332]  and  wife  of 
Odin.  She  is  the  goddess  of 
youth,  love,  beauty,  and  also 
the  dead.  Most  of  her  legends 
concern  the  efforts  of  the  giants 
to  carry  her  off  [33 1]  In  one 
instance,  Thor  impersonated  her 
to  recover  his  hammer  from  the 
giant  Thrym  [335].  In  Wagner's 
Ring  she  is  given  to  the  giants 
and  released  in  exchange  for  the 
magic  ring  [355].  In  German 
mythology  she  appears  fused 
with  Frigga  [351]. 
Frick'a.  In  Wagner's  Ring,  tho 
goddess  of  marriage,  correspond- 
ing to  Frigga  [355]. 
Frig'ga  °r  Frigg.  In  Scandina- 
vian mythology,  the  supreme 
goddess,  wife  of  Odin.  She  pre- 
sides over  marriages,  and  may 
be  called  the  Juno  of  Asgard.  In 
Teutonic  mythology  she  is  con- 
fused with  Frey  a  [344-345,  347, 
351-352]. 

Froh.  In  Wagner's  Ring,  the 
name  of  one  of  the  principal  gods 
[354]. 

Fron-ti'no.  In  the  stories  of  Or- 
lando, the  horse  stolen  by  Bru- 
nello  from  Sacripant  and  given 
to  Rogero  [695]. 

Fu'ry  (plural  Fu'rics).  The  Fu- 
ries, in  Greek  Erinyes  [9,  235] 
or  euphemistically  Eumenides 
[201,  234],  were  avenging  spirits 
of  retributive  justice.  Their 
names,  when  in  course  of  time 
their  number  had  come  to  be 
fixed  as  three,  were  Alecto, 


Megaera,  and  Tisiphone.  Their 
task  was  to  punish  crimes  not 
within  the  reach  of  human  jus- 
tice. Through  Aeschylus  the 
tradition  developed  that  after 
the  time  when  they  had  inter- 
vened in  the  case  of  Orestes  [234- 
235],  their  functions  no  longer 
covered  cases  of  "guiltiness" 
free  from  moral  guilt.  In  spite 
of  their  inexorable  sternness, 
they  wept  [186]  when  they  heard 
Orpheus  implore  the  deities  of 
the  under  world  to  restore  Euryd- 
ice  to  life.  [9,  186,  198-199, 
201,  234-235,  266,  269,  270,  277) 
Fus'ber'ta.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando 
Funot>o,  the  name  of  llinaldo'a 
sword  [710]. 


Gae'a  or  Ge.  The  personification 
of  the  Earth,  called  Tellus  by 
the  Romans;  described  as  the 
first  being  that  sprang  from 
Chaos.  She  gave  birth  to  Ura- 
nus and  Pontus,  the  Sea  [1-2]. 
Gaea  arid  Uranus,  that  is  Earth 
and  Heaven,  were  the  parents  of 
the  Titans  [4].  According  to 
another  story,  Gaea,  Erebus, 
and  Love  were  the  first  of  beings 
[4].  By  Gaea's  powers  plants 
potent  for  enchantment  are  pro- 
duced [134].  To  her  [297]  as  to 
Neptune,  Themis,  and  others 
prophetic  influence  was  attrib- 
uted. [1-2,  4,  44-45,  134,  297] 

Ga-ha'ri-et.  One  of  King  Ar- 
thur's knights  [401],  brother  of 
Gawain,  Agrivain,  and  Gaieth 
[4141. 

Ga'he  •  ris.  In  Arthurian  romance, 
the  nephew  of  King  Arthur,  who 
killed  his  mother  Morgarise  for 
adultery  [429-430,  434,  5081. 

Gal'a-fron.  King  of  Cathay,  the 
father  of  Angelica  [665,  385]. 

Gal'a-had,    Sir.     In    Arthurian 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


907 


legend,  the  son  of  Launcelot  and 
Elaine,  the  purest  and  noblest 
knight  of  the  Round  Table,  who 
safely  took  the  Siege  Perilous 
[487-491,  494,  504-506]. 

Ga-la-te'a.  A  sea-nymph,  be- 
loved by  Polyphe'me,  but  her- 
self in  love  with  Acis.  Acis  was 
crushed  under  a  huge  rock  by 
the  jealous  giant,  and  Galatea 
threw  herself  into  the  sea  [209- 
21 1|.  Also,  a  statue  marie  by 
Pygmalion,  which  became  ani- 
mated, caused  much  mischief, 
and  returned  to  her  original 
state  [62-63]. 

Ga'len.  A  famous  Greek  physi- 
cian and  philosopher  of  the  2nd 
century  A.D.  For  centuries  he 
\NUS  the  supreme  authority  in 
medicine  [313] 

Gal'le-  hant.  King  of  the  Marches 
[425,  442]. 

games.  In  ancient  Greece,  the 
Olympian  Games,  at  Olympia; 
the  Pythian  Games,  near  the 
seat  of  Apollo's  oracle  at  Delphi; 
the  Isthmian  Games,  on  the 
Corinthian  Isthmus,  and  the 
Nemeun  Games,  at  Nernoa  in 
Argohs,  were  national  athletic 
contests  [155]. 

Gan'e-lon  or  Gan.  One  of  the 
famous  characters  of  Carlo vm- 
gian  legend,  a  type  of  black- 
hearted treachery,  Count  of 
Mayence  or  Maganza,  one  of 
Charlemagne's  paladins.  Jeal- 
ousy of  Roland  made  him  plan 
with  Marsilius,  the  Moorish 
king,  the  attack  of  Roncesvalles 
where  the  Christians  were  de- 
feated [656,  663,  801-805]. 

Gan'ges.  The  river  Ganges  in 
India.  It  dried  up  when  Phaeton 
drove  the  chariot  of  the  sun  [44]. 

Ga'no.  A  peer  of  Charlemagne 
[653]. 

Gan'ymede.  The  most  beauti- 
ful of  all  mortals.  He  was  car- 
ried off  to  Olympus  that  he 


might  fill  the  cup  of  Zeus  and 
live  among  the  immortal  gods 
[150]. 

Ga'reth.  Nephew  of  King  Arthur. 
He  introduced  himself  at  court 
as  a  scullion  and  kept  his  name 
secret  for  a  year.  Sir  Kay  called 
him  Beaumams  because  of  the 
size  of  his  hands.  He  was  the 
brother  of  Gahariet,  Gawain, 
and  Agrwain  [414],  siding  with 
the  first  two  against  Agrivnin 
[508]  when  he  decided  to  betray 
Launcelot  and  the  queen  to  king 
Arthvir. 

gates  of  Janus.  See  under  JANUS. 

Gau-dis'so,  Sultan  [838ff.]. 

Gau  •  ta'ma.  The  family  name  of 
Buddha.  His  personal  name  was 
Siddhartha,  his  father's  name 
Suddhodana,  and  his  mother's 
Maya  [325]. 

Ga'wain.  One  of  the  Arthurian 
knights,  nephew  of  King  Arthur, 
probably  the  original  hero  of  the 
Grail  que-<t.  He  is  known  as 
"the  Courteous"  and  is  repre- 
sented afr  the  flower  of  chival- 
rous knighthood  [403-404,  409, 
414-417,  132-434,  438,  442,  474, 
484-485,  487,  490-491,  508-516, 
546,  548-549,  551-555,  613]. 

Gawl.  Son  of  Clud,  suitor  for 
Rhiannon  [585-588,  606]. 

Ge,  see  GAKA. 

Gem'i'ni.  The  constellation 
Twin*,  that  is,  the  brothers 
Castor  and  Pollux  whom  Jupiter 
rewarded  for  their  brotherly  at- 
tachment by  placing  them  to- 
gether among  the  stars  when 
Castor  was  slain  and  Pollux  was 
inconsolable  [158-159]. 

Gen'ghis  Khan  (1162-1227). 
Tartar  conqueror  [327]. 

Ge'ni-us  (pi.  Ge'ni  i).  In  Ro- 
man mythology  the  tutelary 
spirit  that  attended  one  from 
his  cradle  to  his  grave  [11]. 

Geoffrey  of  Mon'mouth  ( 1 100?- 
1152).  Translator  into  Latin  of 


908 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


the  Welsh  History  of  the  Kings  of 
Britain  (1150)  [375,  379], 

Ge  Taint'.  In  Arthurian  legend, 
a  tributary  princo  of  Devon,  and 
one  of  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table.  In  the  Mdbinogion  story 
he  is  the  son  of  Erbin  [556-582]. 

Ger'da.  The  most  beautiful  of  all 
women,  whom  Frey  obtained 
for  his  wife  but  for  whom  he  had 
to  give  up  his  miraculous  sword 
[348]. 

Ge'ri.  One  of  Odin's  two  wolves. 
The  second  is  Freki.  They  lie  at 
Odin's  feet  when  he  is  seated  on 
his  throne.  They  eat  his  food, 
for  he  needs  no  material  suste- 
nance [330]. 

Ger'y<m*  A  three-headed  or 
three-bodied  winged  monster, 
dwelling  on  the  island  of  Ery- 
theia,  where  his  shepherd  Eury- 
tion  guarded  his  large  herd  of 
cattle.  One  of  the  twelve  labors 
of  Hercules  was  to  bring  Ger- 
yon's  cattle  to  Eurystheus  [145]. 
In  the  process  Hercules  killed 
Geryon,  Eurytion,  and  his  two- 
headed  dog. 

Ges'nes.  The  navigator  sent  for 
Isoude  the  Fair  [477]. 

Ghe'bers  or  Gue'bers.  Followers 
of  the  ancient  Persian  religion, 
reformed  by  Zoroaster;  fire- 
worshippers;  Parsees.  The  name 
was  bestowed  upon  them  by 
their  Arabian  conquerors  [320]. 

Gi-al'lar    horn,     see    GJALLAK- 

HORN. 

gi'ants.  Beings  of  monstrous  size 
and  of  fearful  countenances. 
They  are  represented  as  in  con- 
stant opposition  to  the  gods 
[122-123].  In  Norse  mythology 
[349];  in  Wagner's  Ring  [354]. 

Gi-bral'tar.  The  straits  of  Gi- 
braltar were  formed  by  Calpe 
and  Abyla,  the  Pillars  of  Her- 
cules [145]. 

Gil'das.  A  scholar  of  Arthur's 
court  [564]. 


Gi-rard.  The  son  of  Duke  Sevi- 
nus  [826]. 

Gj-al'lar-horn.  In  Norse  my- 
thology, the  horri  sounded  by 
Heimdall,  the  warder  of  Asgard, 
to  assemble  the  gods  and  heroes 
for  the  contest  of  the  "twilight 
of  the  gods"  at  Vigrid  [349]. 

Glas'ton-bur-y.  An  ancient 
town  in  Somerset,  famous  in  the 
Arthurian  and  Grail  cycles  as 
the  place  to  which  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  came  and  as  the 
burial  place  of  King  Arthur 
[395]. 

Glau'cus.  A  fisherman  of  Boeotia, 
who  became  a  sea-god  endowed 
with  the  gift  of  prophecy  and 
who  instructed  Apollo  in  the  art 
of  soothsaying  [59-61,  174].  Also 
a  commander  of  the  Lycians  in 
the  War  of  Troy  [213]. 

Gleip'nir.  The  magic  chain,  fash- 
ioned by  the  mountain  spirits  of 
the  noise  made  by  the  footfall 
of  a  cat,  the  beards  of  women, 
the  roots  of  stones,  the  broath  of 
fishes,  the  sensibilities  of  bears, 
and  the  spittle  of  birds,  and  used 
by  the  gods  to  bind  the  Fenris- 
wolf  [333]. 

Glew'lwyd.  Arthur's  porter  [610- 
611]. 

Go-do'din,  The.  A  poem  by 
Aneunn,  thessixth-century  Welsh 
bard,  on  the  battle  of  Cattraoth 
(603),  in  which  the  tribe  of  the 
Gododin  (Latin  Otadini)  was  de- 
feated by  the  Saxons  [531-532]. 

Golden  Age.  The  first  age  of  man 
before  the  flood.  It  was  an  age 
of  innocence  and  happiness 
when  truth  and  right  prevailed. 
It  was  followed  by  the  Silver 
Ago  and  eventually  the  Age  of 
Brass  [9,  14,  301].  This  use  of 
the  term  precedes  the  current 
metaphonc  application  as  in 
"the  golden  age  of  art." 

golden  apples.   See  HESPEHIDES. 

Golden  Fleece.  The  story  is  that 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


909 


Ino  persuaded  her  husband, 
Athamas,  that  his  son  Phryxus 
was  the  cause  of  a  famine  which 
desolated  the  land.  Phryxus 
was  ordered  to  be  sacrificed  but 
made  his  escape  over  sea  on  the 
winged  ram,  Chrysomallus, 
which  had  a  golden  fleece.  At 
Colchis,  he  sacrificed  the  ram  to 
Zeus  and  gave  tho  fleece  to  King 
Aee'tcs.  It  later  formed  the 
quest  of  Jason's  Argonautic  ex- 
pedition, and  was  stolen  by  him 
[129-134]. 

Gon'er-il.  The  third  daughter  of 
the  mythical  King  Lear  [383- 
3841. 

Gor'bo-duc.  Son  of  King  Lear 
and  father  of  Ferrex  and  Porrex. 
See  LEAH,  FERRUX  AND  PORHEX. 

Gor'di  -an  knot.  The  knot  which 
fastened  the  wagon  of  Gordius 
to  the  temple.  The  prophecy 
was  that  ho  who  could  untie  it 
was  destined  to  be  lord  of  A^ia. 
It  was  finally  cut  with  a,  sword 
by  Alexander  the  Great  [48]. 

Gor'di  •  us.  A  countryman  who, 
arriving  in  Phrygui  in  a  wagon, 
was  made  king  by  the  people, 
thus  interpreting  an  oracle  [4S]. 

Gor'gons.  Three  monstrous  fe- 
males with  huge  teeth,  brazen 
claws  and  snakes  for  hair,  the 
sight  of  whom  turned  beholders 
to  stone;  Medusa,  the  most  fa- 
mous, wah  slam  by  Perseus  [1 1,5]. 

Gor'lois.  In  Arthurian  legend, 
Duke  of  Cornwall  and  husband 
of  Ygcrne.  On  the  night  that  he 
was  slain  Uther  Pendragon  came 
to  Ygerne  in  the  likeness  of  Gor- 
lois  arid  made  her  tho  mother  of 
King  Arthur  [397-398]. 

Gou  ver  nail.  Squire  of  Isabella, 
queen  of  Lionesse,  protector  of 
her  son  Tristram  [449],  while 
young,  and  his  squire  in  knight- 
hood [463]. 

Graces.  Three  goddesses  who  en- 
hanced the  enjoyments  of  life  by 


refinement  and  gentleness;  they 
were  Aglaia  (brilliance),  Eu- 
phrosyne  (joy),  and  Thalia 
(bloom)  [4,  8]. 

Gra  das'so.  In  tho  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  a  king  of  Sericane 
[672,  701),  702,  737,  740,  765, 
768-769,  784-788]. 

Grae'ae.  Three  gray-haired  fe- 
male watchers  for  the  Gorgons, 
with  one  movable  eye  and  one 
tooth  between  the  three  [115- 
116]. 

Grail  or  Graal.  The  Holy  Grail 
or  Sangrcal  is  tho  cup  from 
which  the  Saviour  drank  at  the 
Last  Supper.  It  was  taken  by 
Joseph  of  Anmathea  to  Europe 
whore  it  was  lost.  Its  recovery 
became  the  sacred  quest  for 
King  Arthur's  knight*,  [392,  475, 
486-487]. 

Great  Bear.  The  constellation 
Ursa  Major,  Big  Dipper,  or 
Charles'  \\\un  [32-33,  36,  42]. 

Greek  divinities  [1-9]. 

Gren'del.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon 
epic  Beowulf,  the  man-eating 
monster,  half  human,  half  beast, 
from  which  Beowulf  delivered 
Hrothgar,  king  of  Denmark 
[635]. 

gryphon  or  griffin.  A  fabulous 
animal,  with  the  body  of  a  lion 
and  the  head  and  wings  of  an 
eagle,  dwelling  in  the  Rhipaean 
mountains,  between  the  Hyper- 
boreans and  the  one-eyed  Ari- 
maspians,  and  guarding  the  gold 
of  the  North  [128]. 

Gue'bers,  see  GHEBERS. 

Guen'do  len.  The  daughter  of 
Corineus,  first  wife  of  Locrine, 
one  of  the  three  sons  of  Brut. 
When  her  husband  repudiated 
her  in  favor  of  the  fair  German 
captive  Estrildis,  she  gathered 
an  army  and  gave  battle  to  Lo- 
crine's  forces.  Locrine  was 
killed.  Estrildis  and  her  daugh- 
ter Sabra  or  Sabrina  were 


910 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


thrown  into  the  Severn  [381- 
382]. 

Guen'e-ver,  see  GUINEVERE. 

Gucr'in.  In  the  legends  of  Char- 
lemagne, lord  of  Vienne,  and 
father  of  Oliver,  whose  city  was 
besieged  by  Charlemagne  after 
a  disagreement  [658,  660]. 

Gui  •  de'ri  •  us.  A  legendary  prince, 
the  son  of  Cymbeline  of  Britain. 
He  refuses  to  pay  tribute  to  the 
Romans  and  is  killed  in  battle. 
He  makes  his  appearance  in 
Shakespeare's  play  Cymbeline 
[388]. 

Guil  •  la  •  mu'ri  •  us.  King  of  Ire- 
land [407]. 

Guimier.  The  betrothed  of 
Caradoc  [419-420]. 

Guin'e-vere.  In  Arthurian  leg- 
end, the  wife  of  King  Arthur. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  Leode- 
graunce,  king  of  Camelyard. 
She  entertained  a  guilty  passion 
for  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lako, 
but  during  Arthur's  absence  she 
was  seduced  by  Modred.  Later 
she  took  the  veil  at  Almesbury, 
where  she  died,  and  was  buried 
at  Glastonbury  [425,  435-437, 
439-441,  445-448,  481,  507,  522- 
524,  534,  555-557,  505]. 

Gul  •  lin  •  burs' ti.  The  boar  draw- 
ing Frey's  car  [347]. 

Gull'topp.  Hcimdall's  horse,  on 
which  he  rides  at  Baldur's  obse- 
quies [347]. 

Gun  fa'si-us.  King  of  the  Ork- 
neys [407]. 

Gun'ther.  Occasionally  spelled 
Gunther.  In  the  Nibdungcn- 
hed,  King  of  Burgundy,  brother 
of  Kriemhilde  whom  he  gave  in 
marriage  to  Siegfried  for  his  help 
in  securing  as  his  wife  Brunhilde, 
the  queen  of  Issland.  Gunther 
is  slain  by  Kriemhilde  at  the 
court  of  King  Etzel  in  revenge 
for  the  murder  of  her  husband 
Siegfried  [352-353].  In  Wagner's 
Ring  Gunther  is  the  husband  of 


Brunnehilde.  His  sister  is  Gu- 
trune.  He  is  slain  by  Hagen 
[356-357]. 

Gu'trune.  In  Wagner's  Ring,  the 
sister  of  Gunther  courted  and 
won  by  Siegfried.  She  is  the 
Gudrun  of  the  Volsunga  Saga 
and  the  Kriemhild  of  the  Nibe- 
lungcnlied  [356]. 

Gwae'lod.  A  territory  "bordering 
on  the  sea,"  of  which  Gwyddno 
Garanhir  was  the  sovereign 
[626].  It  was  in  Gwaelod  that 
the  bard  Taliesin  found  refuge 
[627]. 

Gwern.  Son  of  Matholch  and 
Bran  wen  [593,  595]. 

Gwer'nach.  In  Celtic  legend,  a 
giant  [620-622]. 

Gwiff'ert  Pe'tit.  An  ally  of  Ge- 
rainl  [582] 

Gwydd'no  Ga-ran'hir.  King  of 
Gwaelod  and  father  of  Klphm, 
the  protector  of  the  bard  Talie- 
sin [626-628]. 

Gwyr.  Judge  in  the  court  of 
Arthur  [570]. 


H 

Ha'des.  Originally,  the  god  of  the 
nether  world.  Later  the  name 
was  used  to  designate  the  gloomy 
subterranean  land  of  the  dead 
[147]  After  the  river  Styx  also 
called  Stygian  realm  [186]. 

Hae'mon.  The  son  of  Creon  of 
Thebes,  and  lover  of  Antigone 
[183]. 

Hae'mus,  Mount.  The  northern 
boundary  of  Thrace  [31,  43]. 

Ha' gen.  In  the  Nibclungcnlied, 
son  of  a  mortal  and  a  sea-goblin, 
who  killed  Siegfried,  seized  the 
hoard,  and  buried  it  in  the 
Rhine.  Kriemhild,  after  her 
marriage  with  Etzel,  king  of  the 
Huns,  invited  him  and  cut  off 
his  head  [352-353].  He  is  a 
prominent  character  in  Gdtter- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


911 


ddmmeruno  (The  Dusk  of  the 

Gods) ,  the  last  of  the  four  operas 

of  Wagner's  Ring  [354,  356-357]. 

halcyon  birds.     Ceyx  and  Hal- 

cyone  [69-76]. 

Hal  -cy'o  •  ne.  Daughter  of  Aeneas 
and  wife  of  Ceyx.  When  Ceyx 
was  drowned,  she  flew  to  his 
floating  body,  and  the  pitying 
gods  changed  them  both  into 
birds,  kingfishers,  who  nest  at 
sea  during  a  certain  calm  week 
in  winter,  the  "halcyon  days." 
[69-76]. 

ha -ma -dry 'ad.  A  nymph  whose 
life  was  bound  up  with  that  of  a 
particular  tree.  Also  dryad  or  in 
English  wood  nymph.  [76,  167, 
169,  172] 

Har-mon'i-a.  The  daughter  of 
Venus  and  Mars;  given  by  Ju- 
piter in  marriage  to  Cadmus  of 
Thebes  [94].  Vulcan's  wedding 
gift  to  her  was  a  necklace  which 
proved  fatal  to  all  its  successive 
owners,  [1S2] 

Har'pies  (singular  Harpy"). 
Winged  monsters  [176],  half 
women,  half  birds,  aimed  with 
sharp  cluws,  and  defiling  every- 
thing they  touched.  They  were 
driven  away  by  the  Argonauts 
from  their  victim  Phmeus  and 
withdrew  to  an  island  where 
Aeneas  found  them  [259],  one  of 
them  predicting  dire  sufferings 
for  the  Trojans  [260,  276].  In 
the  legends  of  Charlemagne, 
Astolpho  freed  king  Senapus  of 
Abyssinia  from  the  Harpies  that 
had  blinded  him  and  snatched 
away  his  food  [770]. 
Har  •  poc'ra  •  tes.  Literally.  Horus 
the  child.  The  Egyptian  sun  god 
Horus,  adopted  by  the  Gieeks 
as  a  god  of  silence  [293]. 
Ha* run'  al  Ra'schid  or  Ha-- 
roun'  al  Ra'schid.  Literally, 
Aaron  the  Upright  (764?-809). 
Fifth  Abasside  Caliph  of  Arabia 
(785-809).  He  entertained 


friendly  relations  with  Charle- 
magne [654]  and  became  an 
idealized  legendary  figure  in  the 
Arabian  Nights. 

Ha'thor.  In  Egyptian  mythol- 
ogy, the  goddess  of  love,  mirth, 
social  joy.  From  her  and  Kneph 
proceeded  Osiris  and  Isis  [292]. 

Heaven,  see  URANUS. 

He'be.  The  goddess  of  youth,  and 
cup-bearer  of  the  immortals  be- 
fore Ganymede  superseded  her. 
She  was  the  wife  of  Hercule>, 
and  had  the  power  of  making 
the  aged  young  again  [3,  135, 
149-150]. 

He'bruB.  The  ancient  name  of 
the  river  Maritza  [187]. 

Hec'a-te.  One  of  the  Titans,  the 
only  one  that  retained  her  power 
under  the  rule  of  Zeus.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  Pers>es  and  Aste- 
ria,  and  became  a  deity  of  the 
lower  world  after  taking  part  in 
the  search  for  Persephone.  She 
taught  witchcraft  and  sorcery, 
was  a  goddess  of  the  dead,  and 
became  identified  with  Selene, 
Artemis,  and  Persephone  [131, 
134-135,  266]. 

Hec'tor.  Eldest  son  of  Priam,  the 
noblest  of  all  the  Trojan  chief- 
tains in  Homer's  Iliad.  Alter 
holding  out  for  ten  years,  ho  vras 
slain  by  Achilles  who  dragged 
the  dead  body  thrice  round  the 
walls  of  Troy  [213-214,  217-218, 
220-224,  227,  260]. 
Hec'tor  or  Ec'tor  de  Ma-rys', 
Sir.  One  of  the  knights  of  King 
Arthur's  Round  Table,  the 
brother  of  Sir  Launcelot  [430- 
434,  491,  510,  512,  523-525]. 
Hec'u  •  ba.  In  Homer's  Iliad,  sec- 
ond wife  of  Priam,  and  mother 
of  nineteen  children,  including 
Hector.  When  Troy  was  taken 
by  the  Greeks  she  fell  to  the  lot 
of  Ulysses.  She  was  afterwards 
metamorphosed  into  a  dog,  and 


912 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


threw  herself  into  the  sea  [223- 
224,  226,  232]. 

he-gi'ra.  Arab,  hejira,  the  de- 
parture. The  epoch  of  the  flight 
of  Mahomet  from  Mecca  to  Me- 
dina when  he  was  expelled  by 
the  magistrates,  July  15th,  622. 
The  Mohammedan  calendar 
starts  from  this  event  [647-648]. 

Heid'run.  She-goat,  furnishing 
mead  for  slain  heroes  in  Valhalla 
[331]. 

Heim'dall.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  guardian  against  the  giants 
of  the  bridge  of  the  gods,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  dwells  in  Himin- 
bjorg  [332].  At  Baldur's  obse- 
quies he  appears  on  his  horse 
Gulltopp  [347],  and  when  llag- 
narok,  the  twilight  of  the  gods, 
comes,  he  will  sound  his  Gjallar- 
horn  to  assemble  the  gods  and 
heroes  [349]. 

Hel.  The  lower  regions  in  Norse 
mythology,  to  which  were  con- 
signed those  who  had  not  died 
in  battle,  the  heroes  being  lifted 
up  to  Valhalla  [345]. 

He'la.  The  daughter  of  Loki  and 
the  mistress  of  the  Norse  under- 
world [332,  344-345,  349]. 

Hel'en.  The  wife  of  King  Arthur's 
fn'end,  King  Ban  of  Brittany 
[424]. 

Hel'en  of  Troy.  The  daughter  of 
Zeus  and  Leda,  wife  of  Mene- 
laus,  king  of  Sparta.  She  eloped 
with  Paris,  and  brought  about 
the  destruction  of  Troy  which 
forms  the  subject  of  Homer's 
Iliad.  After  the  Trojan  War 
Helen  returned  to  Menelaus  [77, 
153,  158,  212,  222,  229,  233]. 
Later  legends  state  that  Helen 
did  not  accompany  Paris  all  the 
way  to  Troy,  but  was  detained 
in  Egypt. 

Hel'e-nus.  In  Virgil's  Aeneid, 
the  prophet,  the  only  son  of 
Priam  that  survived  the  fall  of 
Troy.  He  was  allowed  to  marry 


Andromache,  his  brother  Hec- 
tor's widow  [260-261,  379]. 

He  li'a-des.  Sisters  of  Phaethon 
[45]. 

Hel' i- con,  Mount.  In  Greece, 
residence  of  Apollo  and  the 
Muses,  with  fountains  of  poetic 
inspiration,  Aganippe  and  Hip- 
pocrene  [43,  124]. 

He-lio'polis.  The  city  of  the  sun 
in  Egypt  [311]. 

Hel'las.  Another  name  for  Greece; 
originally  derived  from  the  name 
of  a  town  in  Phthiotis,  Thessaly 
[2]. 

Hel'le.  The  daughter  of  the  Thcvs- 
salian  king  Athamus,  who  es- 
caped from  her  cruel  father  with 
her  brother  Phryxus  on  a  rain 
with  a  golden  fleece,  and  fell  into 
the  sea-strait  named  for  her  the 
Hellespont  [129]. 

Hel'les-pont.  Narrow  strait  be- 
tween Europe  and  Asia  Minor, 
named  for  Hollo  [129].  Leander, 
beloved  of  Hero,  was  drowned 
while  trying  to  swim  the  Helles- 
pont [106]. 

helmets  [373-374]. 

Hen'gist  and  Hor'sa.  Two  broth- 
ers, chiefs  of  the  Jutes  who 
landed  in  England  about  499 
A.D.  [530]. 

He-phaes'tos,  see  VULCAN. 

He'ra.  The  Greek  Juno,  daughter 
of  Cronus  and  Rhea,  the  wife 
and  sister  of  Zeus.  The  word 
means  "chosen  one,"  Gr.  haireo 
[6]. 

Her'cu  •  lea.  A  mighty  Greek  hero, 
son  of  Jupiter  and  Alcmena,  who 
took  part  in  the  expedition  of 
the  Argonauts  [130,  133],  and 
won  immortality  by  accomplish- 
ing twelve  feats  which  are  known 
as  the  Labors  of  Hercules  [143- 
149].  He  was  killed  by  Deianira, 
his  wife,  who  gave  him  the  fatal 
garment  steeped  in  the  blood  of 
Nessus  which  she  thought  to  be 
a  love-spell  [148].  After  death, 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


913 


Hercules  was  placed  among  the 
stars.  He  was  worshiped  as  the 
god  of  physical  strength.  See 
also  PILLARS  and  LABORS  OF 
HERCULES.  [12S,  130,  133,  143- 
151,  153,  165,  177-179,  181,  193, 
229,  279,  301,  379] 

Her'e-ward.  Famous  Saxon 
fighter  against  the  Normans. 
Flourished  about  1070.  Known 
as  Hereward  the  Wake,  i.e.,  the 
Watchful  [641-643]. 

Her'mes,  see  MERCURY. 

Her  •  mi'o  •  ne.  The  only  daughter 
of  Menclaus  and  Helen.  She 
became  the  wife  of  Pyrrhus  or 
Neoptolemus,  son  of  Achilles; 
Orestes  assassinated  Pyrrhus 
and  married  Hermione,  who  had 
already  been  betrothed  to  him 
[233]. 

Her'mod  or  Her'modr.  In  Scan- 
dinavian mythology,  the  son  of 
Odin  who  journeyed  to  Hel  and 
made  the  unsuccessful  attempt 
to  recall  Balder  to  the  Upper 
World.  It  is  he  who,  with  Bragi, 
receives  and  welcomes  to  Val- 
halla all  heroes  who  fall  in  battle 
[345]. 

He'ro  and  Le-an'der.  Hero,  a 
priestess  of  Venus,  fell  in  love 
with  Leander  who  swam  across 
the  Hellespont  every  night  to 
visit  her.  One  night  he  was 
drowned,  and  heartbroken  Hero 
drowned  herself  in  the  same  sea 
[105-106]. 

He-rod'o-tus.  (484-432  B.C.). 
Famous  Grecian  historian  [307]. 

He'si-od  (about  735  B.C.).  Fa- 
mous Greek  poet.  Among  the 
works  ascribed  to  him  is  a  The- 
ogony,  i.e.,  an  account  of  the 
birth  of  the  gods  and  the  begin- 
nings of  the  world  [273]. 

Hes  •  pe'ri  •  a.  In  ancient  geogra- 
phy, a  country  to  the  west,  often 
identified  as  the  Iberian  Penin- 
Bula  or  Italy  [259]. 

Hes  •  per'i  •  des.  Three  sisters  who 


guarded  the  golden  apples  which 
He'ra  received  as  a  marriage 
gift.  They  were  assisted  by  the 
dragon  La'don.  Hercules  slew 
the  dragon  and  carried  some  of 
the  apples  to  Eurystheus  [46, 
117-118,  145-14(5]. 

Hes'pe  rus.  The  evening  star 
[53],  personified  as  the  son  of 
At-traeus  and  Eos,  and  the  father 
of  King  Coyx  of  Thessaly  [69]. 

Hes'ti-a.  Called  Vesta  by  the 
Romans,  tnc  goddess  of  the 
hearth  [10]. 

Hil'de  brand.  The  Nestor  of 
German  romance.  Like  Maugis 
among  the  heroes  of  Charle- 
magne, he  was  a  magician  as 
well  as  champion  [353]. 

Hindu  mythology  [320-328]. 

Hip-po-cre'ne.  One  of  the  foun- 
tains on  the  Muses'  mountain 
Helicon.  It  was  opened  by  a 
kick  from  Pegasus'  hoof  [124]. 

Hip  po •  da  •  mi'a.  Wife  of  Pirith- 
ous,  at  whose  wedding  the  Cen- 
taurs offered  violence  to  the 
bride,  causing  a  great  battle 
[127]. 

Hip'po-  griff  (Gr.  hippos,  a  horse; 
gryphos,  a  griffin).  The  winged 
horse  with  eagle's  head  and 
claws,  whose  father  was  a  griffin 
and  mother  a  filly  1719,  721-722, 
741]. 

Hip*pol'yta.  The  queen  of  the 
Amazons  who  consented  to  yield 
her  girdle  to  Hercules  and  was 
slain  by  him  when  he  thought 
erroneously  that  she  had  be- 
trayed him  [145].  Hippolyta  is 
also  given  instead  of  Antiope  as 
the  name  of  the  queen  of  the 
Amazons  whom  Theseus  es- 
poused [154]. 

Hip-pol'y  tus.  The  son  of  The- 
seus. He  repulsed  the  advances 
of  his  stepmother  Phaedra,  the 
daughter  of  Minos,  who  there- 
upon managed  to  arouse  falsely 
the  jealousy  of  her  husband.  At 


914 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Theseus'  request  Neptune  fright- 
ened Hippolytus'  horses  thus 
causing  a  fatal  accident.  When 
the  innocence  of  the  youth  be- 
came evident,  Aesculapius  with 
the  help  of  Diana  restored  him 
to  life,  and  Phaedra  committed 
suicide  [154]. 

Hip  •  pom'e  •  nes.  The  youth  who 
won  Atalanta  in  a  foot  race,  be- 
guiling her  with  golden  apples 
thrown  for  her  to  pick  up.  Fail- 
ing to  thank  Venus,  he  was 
changed  into  a  lion,  as  was  also 
his  bride  [66,  141-142]. 

His'ti'on.  Son  of  Japhet,  grand- 
son of  Noah,  and  father  of 
Britto,  Francus,  Romanus,  and 
Alemannus,  the  ancestors  of  the 
British,  French,  Romans,  and 
Germans  [379]. 

historical  theory  of  the  origin 
of  mythology  [301]. 

Ho'dur.  Blind  man,  who,  fooled 
by  Loki,  threw  a  mistletoe-twig 
at  Baldur,  killing  him  [344-345]. 

Ho'el.  A  king  of  Brittany  [400, 
406,408,409,411,475]. 

Ho'mer.  The  blind  poet  of 
Greece,  about  850  B.C.  [202, 
212,  216,  273,  306-307]. 

Ho'rae,  Horai,  see  HOURS. 

horn  of  Amalthaea  or  horn  of 
plenty,  see  OOKNUCOPIA. 

Hor'sa.    See  under  HRNGIHT. 

Ho'rus.  In  Egyptian  mythology, 
the  sun  god,  sprung  from  IMS 
and  Osiris.  Adopted  by  the 
Greeks  as  the  god  of  silence  [293] 
arid  generally  called  Harpo- 
crates. 

Hou-dain'.  Tristram's  dog  [454, 
457]. 

Hours  (Greek  Horai,  Latin  Ho- 
rae).  Goddesses  of  the  chang- 
ing seasons.  They  are  among 
the  attendants  of  the  sun  god 
Phoebus  Apollo  [39],  harnessing 
his  chariot  [41]  for  his  daily 
course.  They  accompanied  Au- 
rora [208]  when  she  went  to  weep 


over  her  son  Memnon  whom 
Achilles  had  slain. 

Hring'ham.  Baldur's  ship  [347]. 

Hroth'gar.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon 
epic  Beowulf,  king  of  Denmark, 
whom  Beowulf  delivered  from 
the  monster  G  rondel  [635]. 

Hu'gi.  One  of  Utgard-Loki's  men, 
actually  Thought  in  disguise, 
who  managed  in  a  contest  at 
Utgard  to  run  faster  than 
Thialfi  [340,  313]. 

Hu'gin.  One  of  the  two  ravens 
whioh  sit  on  Odin's  shoulders 
when  he  is  seated  on  hifc>  throne. 
Every  day  thcv  fly  out  into  tho 
world  and  report  to  their  master 
all  they  have  heard  and  seen 
[330].  The  name  of  the  second 
raven  is  Munin. 

Hun'ding.  Husband  of  Sieglinda 
[355]. 

Hu'on  of  Bor-deaux'.  The  val- 
iant son  of  Duke  Sevmus,  who 
won  the  friendship  of  King 
Oberon,  became  his  successor  as 
king  of  Mominur,  married  Es- 
clairmond,  and  was  crowned 
King  of  all  Faerie  [K25-84S]. 

Hya-cin'thus.  A  beautiful 
youth,  killed  accidentally  while 
playing  at  quoits  with  Apollo, 
who  caused  him  to  be  reborn 
every  year  in  the  form  of  the 
spring  flower  which  bears  his 
name  [67-6S]  The  god's  sorrow 
is  expressed  in  tho  letters  AI  (the 
Greek  word  for  "woe")  which 
are  inscribed  on  the  petals  of  the 
flower.  The  same  story  is  told 
about  Ajax  [228]. 

Hy'a-des.  Nysaean  nymphs, 
nurses  of  the  infant  Bacchus, 
and  rewarded  by  being  placed 
in  the  heavens  as  a  cluster  of 
stars  [174]. 

Hy'a-le.   A  nymph  of  Diana  [34]. 

Hy'dra.  A  monster  of  the  Ler'- 
nean  marshes,  in  Ar'golis.  It 
had  nine  heads,  and  it  was  ono 
of  the  twelve  labors  of  Hercules 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


915 


to  kill  it.  As  soon  as  he  struck 
off  one  of  its  heads,  two  shot  up 
in  its  place  [144,  149,  267,  269]. 

Hyge'ta.  Goddess  of  health  and 
daughter  of  Aesculapius.  Her 
symbol  was  a  serpent  drinking 
from  a  cup  in  her  hand  [174]. 

Hylas.  A  youth  detained  by 
nymphs  of  the  spring  where  he 
sought  water  [133]. 

Hy'men.  Properly,  a  marriage 
song  of  the  ancient  Greeks,  later 
personified  as  the  god  of  mar- 
riage, represented  as  a  youth 
carrying  a  torch  and  veil — a 
more  mature  Eros,  or  Cupid  [20, 
185]. 

Hymet'tus.  A  mountain  in  At- 
tica near  Athens  famous  for  its 
honey  and  marble  [63]. 

Hyper -bo' re -an*.  Literally, 
those  beyond  the  north  wind. 
A  happy  people,  living  in  the 
north  in  blissful  inaccessibility, 
in  a  land  of  sunshine  and  abund- 
ance, exempt  from  disease  and 
the  ravages  of  war.  Their  lives 
lasted  a  thousand  years  which 
they  spent  in  the  worship  of 
Apollo  [2]. 

Hype'ri-on.  A  Titan,  son  of 
Uranus  and  Ge,  father  of  Helios, 
Selene,  and  Eos,  precursor  of 
Apollo  the  sun  god  [4-5].  He 
was  the  owner  of  the  island  of 
Thrmakia  where  Lampetia  and 
Phacthusa  tended  his  cattle 
[244]. 

Hyr-ca'nia,  Prince  of.  The  be- 
trothed of  Clarimurida  [844-845]. 

Hyri-e'us.  A  Grecian  king 
whose  treasure  was  stolen  by 
Trophonius  and  Agamedes,  the 
architects  of  his  treasury  [297]. 


I-ap'e  tus.  A  Titan  [4],  son  of 
Uranus  and  Ge  or  Gaea,  father 
of  Atlas,  Prometheus,  Epime- 


theus  [18],  and  Menootius.  Ju- 
piter threw  him  into  Tartarus, 
His  name  was  modified  by 
Milton  as  Japhet. 

I  •  a'»i  •  u*.  The  father  of  Atalanta 
[138]. 

Ib'ycus.  The  story  of  Ibycus 
and  the  cranes  [198-201]. 

I  •  ca'ri  •  a.  An  island  in  the  Aegean 
Sea,  one  of  the  Sporades  [157]. 

I  •  ca'ri  •  us.  Spartan  prince,  father 
of  Penelope  [184]. 

Ic'a-rus.  The  son  of  Daedalus. 
He  flew  with  his  father  from 
Crete;  but  the  sun  melted  the 
wax  with  which  his  wings  were 
fastened  on,  and  he  fell  into  the 
sea,  hence  called  the  Ica'rian 
[156-157]. 

Ice'land  [351,  405]. 

Ice-los'.  An  attendant  of  Mor- 
pheus [72]. 

I-colm'kill,  see  IONA. 

Ida,  Mount.  The  Trojan  Hill 
where  Paris  pastured  his  flocks 
when  he  was  sought  out  by 
Minerva,  Juno  and  Venus  to  be 
judge  over  their  contention 
about  the  Apple  of  Discord  [43, 
150,  211]. 

I  -dae'us.  The  Trojan  herald  who 
accompanied  his  lord  King 
Priam  to  the  camp  of  the  Greeks 
to  ask  them  to  restore  the  body 
of  Priam's  son  Hector  to  his 
family  [226]. 

1'das.  Son  of  Aphareus,  insepar- 
able companion  of  his  brother 
Lynceus.  Idas  and  Lynceus 
were  cousins  of  Castor  and 
Pollux.  Idas  killed  Castor; 
Pollux  killed  Lynceus;  Idas  waa 
killed  by  Jupiter  [158]. 

I-du'na,  see  ITHUNN. 

I-gerne'  or  I-graine'.  Wife  of 
Gorlois,  duke  of  Tintag'el,  in 
Cornwall,  and  mother  of  King 
Arthur  by  Uther  Pendragon 
[397-398]. 

Il'i-ad.  Epic  poem  of  the  Trojan 
War  by  Homer  [216,  227]. 


916 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Il-i-o'neus.  A  son  of  Niobe  [113]. 

Il'i-um,  see  TROY. 

Il'lyr'i'a.  Adriatic  countries 
north  of  Greece  [31,  94]. 

Im'o-gen.  The  daughter  of  Pan- 
drasus,  arid  the  wife  of  the  Tro- 
jan Brutus  [380]. 

In'a»chus.  The  son  of  Oceanus 
and  Tethys,  and  the  father  of 
Phoroneus  and  lo.  Ho  was  the 
first  king  of  Argos  and  gave  his 
name  to  the  river  Inachus  [29]. 

In'cu-bus.  An  evil  spirit,  sup- 
posed to  lie  upon  persons  in  their 
sleep  [389]. 

In'dra.  Hindu  god  of  heaven, 
thunder,  lightning,  storm,  and 
rain  [320]. 

infernal  regions  [266-273]. 

I'no.  Daughter  of  Cadmus  [94]; 
aunt  of  Pentheus  whom  — 
blinded  by  Bacchus — she  helped 
tear  to  pieces  while  he  attempted 
to  stop  a  Bacchic  festival  [164]. 
She  becamo  the  second  wife  of 
Athamas.  Fleeing  from  him 
with  her  infant  son,  she  sprang 
into  the  sea  and  was  changed  to 
Leucotheu  [174]. 

I'o.  The  beautiful  daughter  of 
Inachus,  king  of  Argos.  Jupiter, 
who  had  been  flirting  with  her, 
changed  her  into  a  heifer  to  con- 
ceal her  from  Juno.  Argus,  who 
had  a  hundred  eyes,  was  charged 
by  Juno  to  watch  the  heifer. 
Mercury,  at  Jupiter's  request, 
killed  Argus,  and  Juno  sent  a 
gadfly  to  chase  the  heifer  all 
over  the  world.  On  the  Nile  lo 
finally  recovered  her  shape  and 
was  returned  to  her  family  after 
Jupiter  had  promised  not  to  pay 
her  any  more  attentions  [29-31]. 
lo  was  by  Jupiter  the  mother  of 
Epaphus,  the  ancestor  of  Aegyp- 
tus,  Damaus,  Cepheus,  and 
Phineus.  In  the  allegorical  in- 
terpretation of  mythology  [302] 
lo  is  the  moon.  [29-31,  302] 

I-ob'a-t«8.    King  of   Lycia  and 


father-in-law  of  Proetus,  at 
whose  request  he  tried  to  send 
Bellerophon  to  his  death  by 
having  him  attack  the  Chimaera 
[124-125]. 

I'o-la'us.  The  faithful  servant 
and  companion  of  Hercules 
[H4]. 

I  •  ol'cos.  A  city  in  Thossaly,  the 
model  n  Volo,  point  of  embarka- 
tion of  tho  Argonauts  [133]. 

1'o-le.    Sister  of  Dryopo  [64-65] . 

I-o'na  or  Icclmkill.  A  small 
northern  inland  near  Scotland, 
where  St.  Columba  founded  a 
missionary  monastery  (563  A.D.) 
[362-366]. 

I'o'ni-a.  The  coast  of  Asia 
Minor  [09]. 

I-o'ni-anSea[31]. 

I'phi-ge-ni'a.  Daughter  of 
Agamemnon,  offered  as  a  sacn- 
fice  :it  tho  start  of  the  Trojan 
expedition,  but  carried  away  to 
Tauris  by  Diana  [214].  Acting 
as  the  priestess  of  that  godde^ 
she  freed  two  prisoners  in  whom 
she  had  recognized  her  brothei 
Orestes  and  his  friend  Pylad*"-, 
and  escaped  with  them  taking 
along  Diana's  statue  [235]. 

I'phis.  A  young  man  of  humble 
parentage  who  hanged  himself 
at  the  door  of  the  noble  lady 
Anaxarete  because  she  rejected 
his  love  [78-79]. 

Iph'i-tus.  Friend  of  Hercules, 
killed  by  him  [147]. 

I'ris.  Goddess  of  the  rainbow;  the 
messenger  of  the  gods  when  they 
intended  discord.  The  rainbow 
is  the  bridge  or  road  let  down 
from  heaven  for  her  accommo- 
dation [6,  71-72,  218,  225,  282]. 

Iron  Age.  The  fourth  and  last 
age  of  man  before  the  flood, 
when  all,  except  Deucalion  arid 
Pyrrha,  behaved  in  such  a  way 
that  they  deserved  to  be 
drowned  [15]. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


917 


I  Von -side.  One  of  Arthur's 
knights  [435]. 

Is  •  a  •  bel/la.  In  Arthurian  legend, 
the  sister  of  King  Mark  of 
Cornwall,  married  to  King  Me- 
liadus  of  Lionesse  [449].  In 
Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso,  the 
daughter  of  a  king  of  Galicia, 
loved  by  Zerbino  but  slain  by 
Rodomont  [742-745,  753,  759- 
769]. 

I'sis.  The  principal  goddess  of 
ancient  Egypt,  sister  and  wife  of 
Osiris,  and  mother  of  Horus. 
She  was  identified  with  the 
moon  (Osiris  being  a  sungod), 
and  the  cow  was  sacred  to  her, 
its  horns  representing  the  cres- 
cent moon  which,  in  P]gypt,  ap- 
pears lying  on  its  back  [292-294]. 

Isles  of  the  Blessed,  see  FORTU- 
NATE ISLANDS. 

Is'ma-rus.  A  city  of  the  Cico- 
nians,  where  Ulysses  first  made 
land  and  lost  six  men  from  each 
ship  in  a  skirmish  with  the  in- 
habitants [236]. 

Is-me'nos.  One  of  the  sons  of 
Niobe,  slain  by  Apollo  [113]. 

I'so'lier.  A  friend  of  Rmaldo 
[661-662]. 

I-soude'  of  the  White  Hands. 
Tristram's  wife  [475-477]. 

I-soude'  the  Fair.  The  beloved 
of  Tristram  [451-459,  461,  468- 
472,  477]. 

Isthmian  games  [155,  174]. 

Ith'a-ca.  The  home  of  Ulysses 
and  Penelope  [184,  212,  236, 
253]. 

I'thunn.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  wife  of  Bragi.  She  was  the 
goddess  who  kept  in  Asgard  the 
apples  which  were  eaten  by  the 
gods  to  preserve  their  eternal 
youth  [332]. 

I*u'lus.  More  generally  Asca- 
nius.  The  son  of  Aeneas,  the 
founder  of  Alba  Longa  and  an- 
cestor of  the  Roman  Julii  [276- 
277,  283,  287]. 


I'vo.  A  Saracen  king  who  be- 
friended Rinaldo  [663]. 

Ix-i'on.  A  king  of  Thessaly,  who 
was  sentenced  in  Tartarus  to  be 
lashed  with  serpents  to  a  wheel 
which  a  strong  wind  drove  con- 
tinually around  [186,  270]. 


Ja-nic'u-lum.  A  fortress  built 
by  Janus  on  Mons  Janiculus,  a 
ridge  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Tiber  near  Rome  [281]. 

Ja'nus.  A  solar  deity;  doorkeeper 
of  heaven  and  patron  of  the  be- 
ginning and  end  of  things.  He 
had  two  faces,  one  for  the  rising 
sun  and  one  for  sunset.  The  first 
month  of  the  year  was  named 
for  him  [10].  The  gates  of  his 
temples  were  kept  open  in  time 
of  war  [277].  He  was  the  builder 
of  the  Janiculum  [277]  which 
Aeneas  saw  when  he  set  foot  oil 
Italian  soil. 

Ja'phet.  A  name  for  lapetus,  in- 
troduced by  Milton  in  Paradise 
Lost  [18].  Also  one  of  the  sons 
of  Noah  and,  according  to  leg- 
end, the  father  of  Histion  from 
whom  descended  the  French, 
Italian,  German,  and  British 
peoples  [379]. 

Ja'son.  Son  of  the  Thessalian 
king  Aeson  and  nephew  of  the 
usurper  Pelias  [130].  He  took 
part  in  the  Calydonian  Hunt 
[138-139]  and  was  the  leader  of 
the  Argonautic  expedition  to 
secure  the  Golden  Fleece  from 
Aeetes,  king  of  Colchis  [130- 
133].  This  he  accomplished  with 
the  help  of  Aeetes'  daughter 
Medea  [131],  whom  he  married 
and  later  deserted  [136]  for  the 
Corinthian  princess  Creusa. 
[130-136,  138-139,  151] 

Jo-cas'ta.  Mother  of  Oedipus, 
and  subsequently  the  wife  of 


918 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


her  own  eon  who  had  married 
her  in  ignorance  of  his  parent- 
hood [124,  182]. 
Jo'seph  of  A  •  ri  •  ma  •  the'a.    The 

rich  Jew,  who  believed  in  Christ 
but  feared  to  confess  it.  Legend 
relates  that  he  was  imprisoned 
for  forty- two  years,  during  which 
time  he  was  kept  alive  miracu- 
lously by  the  Holy  Grail,  and 
that  on  his  release  he  brought 
the  Grail  and  the  spear  with 
which  Longinus  wounded  the 
crucified  Saviour,  to  Britain, 
and  there  founded  the  abbey  of 
Glastonbury  [506] 

Jo'tunn  •  heim  or  Jo'tun-heim. 
Literally,  home  of  the  giants. 
In  Norse  mythology,  one  of  the 
Nine  Worlds.  It  lies  in  the 
northwest  where  the  ocoan 
reaches  the  edge  of  the  universe 
and  is  inhabited  by  the  giants. 
One  of  the  roots  of  the  ash  tree 
Yggdrasill  extends  into  it  [330, 
335,  348]. 

Jove.  Another  name  of  Jupiter, 
the  latter  being  Jovis  pater, 
father  Jove.  See  JUPITEH. 

Joyeuse  Garde  or  Garde  Joye- 
use. The  estate  given  by  King 
Arthur  to  Sir  Launcelot  of  the 
Lake  for  defending  the  Queen's 
honor  against  Sir  Mador  [524]. 

Jug'ger-naut.  A  Hindu  god, 
Lord  of  the  World,  having  his 
temple  at  Puri,  in  Orissa  [322]. 

ju'no.  The  particular  guardian 
spirit  of  each  woman  [11]. 

Ju'no.  The  "venerable  ox-eyed" 
wife  of  Jupiter,  and  queen  of 
heaven,  of  Roman  mythology. 
She  is  identified  with  the  Greek 
Hera,  was  the  special  protectress 
of  marriage  and  of  woman,  and 
was  represented  as  a  war  god- 
dess. [6,  28-33,  37-38,  71-72,  81, 
95,  101,  112,  123,  143-145,  149- 
150,  160,  177,  211,  216,  218,  220, 
261,  277-279,  282,  287,  289] 

Ju'pi-ter,  from  Jovis  pater,  "fa- 


ther Jove."  Also  called  Jove 
and,  in  Greek  Zeus.  The  su- 
preme deity  of  classical  antiq- 
uity, father  of  gods  and  men; 
son  of  Saturn  and  Rhea  [4], 
brought  up  by  the  daughters  of 
King  Melisseus  of  Crete  [100] 
on  the  milk  of  the  goat  Amal- 
thea  [179],  escaped  the  fate  of 
his  brothers  and  sisters  who 
were  swallowed  by  their  father 
[5],  defeated  the  Titans  and 
banished  them  to  Tartarus  [52], 
and  installed  himself  with  his 
wife  Juno  [G]  on  Olympus  [3], 
where  Therms  (Law;  omipios  a 
place  near  his  throne  [9J.  He  is 
subject  to  Cupid  [53].  He  is  the 
father  of  Vulcan  by  Juno  [6],  of 
the  Muses  by  Mnemosyne  [8], 
of  Apollo  by  Latona  [21],  of 
Mercury  by  Mai  a  [49],  ot  Rha- 
damantus  and  Minos  by  Europa 
191],  of  Perseus  by  Danae  [116], 
of  Hercules  by  Alcmena  [143, 
177],  of  Castor,  Pollux,  Helen, 
and  Clytemnestra  by  Leda  [109, 
158],  of  Bacchus  by  Semele 
[160],  of  Amphion  by  Antiope 
[192],  etc.  etc.,  and  of  Minerva 
who  sprang  from  his  head  with- 
out a  mother  [7,  107,  211].  In 
his  flirtations,  as  with  lo  [29-31] 
and  Callisto  [32]  he  is  troubled 
by  Juno's  jealousy  and  appears 
often  in  the  shape  of  an  animal. 
He  carries  away  Europa  as  a 
bull  [91],  appears  before  Leda 
as  a  swan  [109,  158],  and  escapes 
the  monsters  in  the  shape  of  a 
ram  [123].  As  Jupiter  tonans  he 
wields  the  thunder  [40]  and  has 
used  it  to  kill  Phaeton  [44-45], 
Aesculapius  [127],  Capaneus 
[183],  arid  many  others.  He  has 
the  power  to  place  mortals 
among  the  stars  and  did  HO,  for 
instance,  in  the  case  of  Chiron 
[128],  Orpheus  [187],  and  the 
Pleiades  [206].  His  activities  are 
varied  and  numerous.  He  m>- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


919 


ated  woman  and  sent  her  as  a 
punishment  to  Prometheus  [13]; 
he  brought  about  the  Deucalian 
Flood  [15-16],  he  fastened  the 
floating  island  of  Delos  [38],  in- 
stituted the  Olympian  games 
[155],  etc  etc.  His  oracle  was  at 
Dodona  [296].  He  was  identified 
with  the  Egyptian  god  Amen  as 
Jupiter  Ammon  [296].  The  Si- 
bylline books  were  kept  in  his 
temple  at  Rome  [275].  His  sta- 
tue by  Phidias  [303]  is  known 
as  the  Olympian  Jupiter.  [8-9, 
13-16,  18,  21,  29-32,  38,  40,  44- 
45,  49-50,  52-53,  56,  91-92,  97, 
98,  100,  107,  109,  11 6-1  IS,  123, 
125,  127-128,  130,  143,  148,  150, 
153,  155,  158,  160,  172-173,  177, 
179-180,  182-183,  187,  192,  204, 
206-208,  210-211,  216-218,  220- 
221,  225-226,  232,  239-240,  245, 
259,  263,  268-269,  275,  287,  296, 
303] 
Justice,  see  THEMIS. 


Ka-dyri'ath.  Adviser  to  King 
Arthur  [564,  571]. 

Kal'ki.  The  tenth  avatar  of 
Vishnu  [321]. 

Kay,  Sir.  In  Arthurian  romance, 
son  of  Sir  Ector  and  footer- 
brother  of  King  Arthur,  who 
made  him  his  seneschal  or  stew- 
ard. He  is  represented  as  a  rude 
and  boastful  knight,  the  fir>t  to 
attempt  an  achievement,  but 
very  rarely  successful  [399,  406- 
408,  410-411,  418,  430-432,  435, 
440,  460,  481-482,  534,  547-548, 
611,  614] 

K«  da'li  on.  The  guide  of  Orion 
[205-206]. 

Ker'man,  desert  of  [320]  | 

Kie'va.  The  daughter  of  Gwynn 
Cloy  [597-604]. 

Kil'wich.  The  son  of  Kilydd 
[608-619]. 


Ki  •  lydd'.  Son  of  Prince  Kelyddon 
of  Wales  [608]. 

King  Ar'thur.  A  semimythical 
British  chieftain  of  the  sixth 
century.  He  became  the  central 
figure  of  a  great  cycle  of  ro- 
mance, in  which  he  appears  as 
living  in  state  with  his  wife 
Guinevere  at  Caerleon  on  the 
Usk.  He  was  fatally  wounded 
in  the  battle  of  Camlan  and  was 
buried  at  Glastonbury.  [375, 
390,  392,  394-417,  441-442,  444, 
461,  466,  484,  487,  508-521,  534, 
539,  516-549,  55 1,  564-569,  611- 
614,  622] 

Kneph.  In  Egyptian  mythology, 
the  spirit  or  breath,  issued,  with 
Hathor,  from  Amun.  From 
Kneph  and  Hathor  proceeded 
Osiris  and  IMS  [292]. 

knights,  training  and  life  of 
[369-371] 

Kriem'hild.  The  legendary  hero- 
ine of  the  Nibelungenhed,  sister 
of  Gunther,  wife  of  Siegfried 
and,  after  his  death,  of  Etzel, 
king  of  the  Huns.  To  take  re- 
venge on  Hagen,  the  slayer  of 
Siegfried,  she  invited  the  Nibe- 
lungs  to  her  court  and  caused  a 
dreadful  massacre.  She  herself 
was  slain  by  Hildebrand.  In 
Norse  sources  she  appears  as 
Gudrun,  in  Wagner's  Ring  as 
Gutrune  [352-353,  356]. 

Krish'na  (the  black  one).  One  of 
the  greatest  of  the  Hindu  deities, 
the  god  of  fire,  lightning,  storms, 
the  heavens,  and  the  sun,  usu- 
ally regarded  as  the  eighth  ava- 
tar of  Vishnu  [321]. 

Ky'ner.   The  father  of  Kai  [534]. 

Ky'non.  The  son  of  Clydno  [534- 
539]. 


Labors  of  Hercules.  The  twelve 
tasks  which  won  Hercules  im- 
mortality. They  were:  (1)  to 


920 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


slay  the  Nemean  lion  [144]; 
(2)  to  kill  the  Lernean  hydra 
[144];  (3)  to  catch  the  Arcadian 
stag,  (4)  to  destroy  the  Eryman- 
thian  boar;  (5)  to  cleanse  the 
stables  of  King  Augeas  [144]; 
(6)  to  destroy  the  cannibal  birds 
of  the  Lake  Stymphalis;  (7)  to 
capture  the  Cretan  bull;  (8)  to 
catch  the  horses  of  the  Thraeian 
Diomedes;  (9)  to  get  possession 
of  the  girdle  of  Queen  Hippolyta 
of  the  Amazons  [144-145];  (10) 
to  capture  the  oxen  of  the  mon- 
ster Geryon  [145];  (11)  to  get 
possession  of  the  apples  of  the 
Hesperides  [145-146];  (12)  to 
bring  up  from  Hades  the  mon- 
strous dog  Cerberus  [147]. 

Lab'y  •  rinth.  The  em  losed  maze 
of  passageways  where  roamed 
the  Minotaur  of  Crete.  He  was 
killed  by  Theseus  with  the  aid 
of  Ariadne  [152,  156]. 

Lach'e  sis.  One  of  the  three 
Fates,  daughter  of  Themis 
(Law).  Her  name  signifies  "dis- 
poser of  lots."  She  determines 
the  length  of  the  thread  of  hu- 
man life  [9]. 

Lady  of  the  Fountain.  A  tale 
told  by  Kynon  [534-553]. 

La-er'tes.  The  father  of  Ulysses 
[185]. 

Laes  •  try  go'ni  •  ans.  A  race  of 
cannibal  giants  visited  by  Ulysses 
in  their  northern  country  of  un- 
clear identity  but  described  as 
having  days  so  short  that  the 
shepherd  driving  his  flock  to 
pasture  in  the  morning  will  meet 
the  shepherd  coming  home  at 
night  [241]. 

La'ma.  A  holy  man  of  Tibet 
[327]. 

Lam  •  pe'ti  •  a.  Daughter  of  Hype- 
rion. With  her  sister  Phaethusa 
she  tended  her  father's  cattle  on 
the  island  of  Trinakia  [244]. 

Lance'lot  or  Launce'lot  du  Lac. 
The  most  famous  of  the  knights 


of  King  Arthur's  Round  Table. 
He  was  the  son  of  King  Ban  of 
Brittany  but  as  a  babe  was 
stolen  by  Vivien,  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake,  who  presented  him, 
when  grown  up,  to  Arthur.  Ho 
twice  caught  sight  of  the  Grail. 
Though  a  model  of  chivalry,  his 
adulterous  love  for  Guinevere 
caused  the  disruption  of  the 
Round  Table  and  Arthur's 
death.  Lancelot  was  the  father 
of  Sir  Galahad.  He  died  as  a 
repentant  hermit  [424-434,  430- 
414,  44(M  18,  103,  4(55-400,  4SS, 
491-494,  502-504,  507-514,  521- 
525]. 

La-oc'o-on.  A  son  of  Priam, 
priest  of  Apollo  at  Troy,  who, 
having  offended  the  god,  was 
.strangled  with  one  of  his  sons 
by  two  soi  pen t.s  while  offering  a 
sacrifice  to  Neptune  [230].  A 
marble  group,  discovered  in 
1500,  now  restored,  represents 
the  incident  [115]. 

La-o-da-mi'a.  The  wife  of  Pro- 
tesila'us,  who  was  slain  before 
Troy.  She  was  allowed  to  con- 
verse with  her  dead  husband  for 
three  hours.  When  the  respite 
was  over,  she  accompanied  the 
dead  hero  to  the  shades  [214]. 

La  •  od'e  •  gan.  King  of  Carmalide, 
helped  by  Arthur  and  Merlm 
[400-403]. 

La-om'e-don.  Son  of  Ilus  and 
Eurydice,  king  of  Troy,  and 
father  of  Priam  and  Tithorius 
[207]. 

Lap'i  •  thae.  Thessalonians,  whose 
king  had  invited  the  Centaurs 
to  his  daughter's  wedding  but 
wiio  attacked  them  for  offering 
violence  to  the  bride  [127,  106]. 

la' res  and  pe  •  na'tes.  Used  as  a 
collective  expression  for  home. 
In  ancient  Rome  the  lares  (sing. 
lar)  were  the  household  gods, 
usually  deified  ancestors  or  he- 
roes, the  penates  were  also 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


921 


guardian  deities  of  the  house- 
hold (and  the  State),  but  were 
more  in  the  nature  of  personifi- 
cations of  the  natural  powers, 
their  duty  being  to  bring  wealth 
and  plenty  [11]. 

lark'spur.  The  flower  that  grew 
from  the  blood  of  Ajax  [228]. 

La-ti'nus.  In  Roman  legend,  a 
king  of  Latium,  the  son  of 
Faunus  and  father  of  Lavinia. 
He  was  told  in  a  dream  by  his 
father  that  his  daughter's  union 
with  a  foreigner  would  produce 
a  race  destined  to  subdue  the 
world.  That  foreigner  was 
Aeneas  [276]. 

Lat'mos,  Mount.  The  mountain 
where  Kndyrmon  pastured  his 
flocks  when  Diana  fell  in  love 
with  him  [204]. 

La-to'na  (Greek  Leto).  Mother 
by  Jupiter  of  Apollo  and  Artemis 
[6].  In  her  flight  from  Juno, 
Jupiter's  jealous  wife,  she  was 
insulted  by  some  countrymen  of 
Lycia  and  changed  them  into 
croaking  frogs  [36-38].  She 
found  refuge  on  the  floating 
island  of  Dclos  which  Jupiter 
fastened  for  her.  [6,  36-38,  112- 
113] 

La'us.    A  king  of  Thebes  [123]. 

Lau'sus.  The  son  of  Mezentius 
[278].  He  was  a  valiant  warrior, 
whom  Aeneas  had  to  slay  in 
battle  although  he  would  have 
preferred  to  spare  his  life  [285]. 

La'vin'i-a.  The  daughter  of  La- 
tinus.  Wooed  by  Turnus  but 
reserved  by  her  father  for  a 
foreign-born  husband  because  in 
a  dream  he  had  been  promised 
that  from  such  a  union  would 
spring  a  race  destined  to  subdue 
the  world  [276].  After  a  long 
struggle  Turnus  was  killed  by 
Aeneas  who  obtained  Lavinia 
for  his  bride  [287]. 

l*a*vin'i*um.  An  ancient  Roman 
city;  according  to  tradition, 


founded  by  Aeneas  and  named 
for  his  bride  Lavinia  [287]. 

Law,  see  THEMIS. 

Le-an'der,  see  HERO  A.ND  LEAN- 

DER. 

Lear.  A  mythical  king  of  Britain. 
His  story  is  known  through 
Shakespeare's  King  Lear  [383- 
384]. 

Le  ba  dei'aor  Le-ba-de'a.  The 
modern  Livadia,  a  town  in 
Boeotia,  Greece;  noted  in  an- 
tiquity for  its  oracle  of  Tropho- 
mus  [298]. 

Le-byn'thos.  Aegean  island  [157]. 

Le'da.  Wife  of  Tyndareus  and 
mother  of  Helen,  Clytemnestra, 
Ca.stor  and  Pollux.  In  later  leg- 
ends the  father  of  her  children 
was  the  Swan,  under  which  dis- 
guise Jupiter  concealed  himself 
[109,  15S]. 

legends  of  Charlemagne  [647- 
872] 

Leir,  :>ee  LEAR. 

Le'laps.  A  dog  of  Cephalus 
While  running  after  a  fox,  both 
LelapM  and  the  fox  were  changed 
into  stone  [26-27].  Also  the 
name  of  one  of  the  dogs  pursuing 
Actaooii  whom  Diana  had 
changed  into  a  stag  [35]. 

Lem'nos.  The  island  in  the 
Aegean,  where  Vulcan  fell  when 
Jupiter  flung  him  out  of  heaven 
[6].  The  Argonauts  [130]  found 
the  place  an  "Adamless  Eden." 
As  a  result  of  their  stay  it  was 
repopulated.  It  was  here  that 
blinded  Orion  reached  the  forge 
of  Vulcan  [205]  and  that  Phi- 
loctetes  was  abandoned  by  his 
companions  because  of  the  smell 
of  his  festering  wound  [229]. 

lem'u  res.  The  name  given  by 
the  Romans  to  the  spirits  of  the 
dead,  especially  specters  which 
wandered  about  at  night-time  to 
terrify  the  living  ones  [11]. 

Le'o.   A  Roman  emperor  [409];  a 


922 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Greek  prince  [791,  793,  797, 
801];  a  constellation  [41]. 

Leth'e.  One  of  the  rivers  of  Ha- 
des, which  the  souls  of  all  the 
dead  taste,  that  they  may  forget 
everything  said  and  done  when 
alive.  Or.  letho,  latheo,  lanthano, 
to  cause  persons  not  to  know 
[72,  271]. 

Leto,  see  LATONA. 

Leu  ca'dia.  A  promontory  from 
which  Sappho,  disappointed  in 
her  love  to  Phaon,  threw  herself 
into  the  sea  [203]. 

Leu-co'the-a.  The  soa  goddess 
into  whom  the  gods  changed  Ino 
after,  fleeing  from  her  husband, 
she  had  hurled  herself  from  a 
cliff  into  the  sea  [174]. 

Lewis,  see  Louis. 

Li'ber.  In  Roman  mythology,  a 
god  of  wine.  In  course  of  time 
identified  with  Bacchus  [10-11]. 

Li'beth'ra.  The  place  in  Greece 
where  the  nightingales  sing  most 
sweetly  since  it  is  there  that  the 
Muses  buried  the  fragments  of 
Orpheus'  body  [187]. 

Lib'ya.  The  Greek  name  for  the 
continent  of  Africa  [145]. 

Lib'-yan  Desert.  It  dried  out 
when  Paethon  drove  his  father's 
chariot  [44]. 

Lib'yan  Oasis.  A  dove  flew 
there  to  proclaim  that  an  oracle 
of  Jupiter  was  to  be  erected 
[296]. 

Li'chas.  The  messenger  who 
brought  Hercules  the  robe  of 
Nessus  [148]. 

Li  mours',  Earl  of,  [580]. 

Li'nus.  Musical  instructor  of 
Hercules  who  struck  and  killed 
him  with  his  lyre  [193]. 

Li'on.   The  constellation  Leo  [41]. 

Li'o-nel.  A  knight  of  Arthur's 
Round  Table  [424-425,  430,  442- 
444,  497-501,  510,  512]. 

Little  Bear.  The  constellation 
known  also  as  Little  Dipper  or 
Ursa  Minor  [32-33,  42]. 


Llyr.  In  the  Welsh  Mabinogion,  a 
mythical  king  of  Britain,  father 
of  Bran  and  Bran  wen  [589]. 

Lo-crine'.  A  mythical  king  of 
England.  He  was  the  son  of 
Brut,  descendant  of  Aeneas.  Ho 
married  Guendolen  and  repudi- 
ated her  in  favor  of  the  fair 
German  captive  Estrildis,  where- 
upon Guendolen  killed  him,  his 
new  wife,  and  their  daughter 
Sabriiia  [381-382]. 

Lo-e'gri-a.  England  is  so  called 
by  Geoffrey  of  Moiimouth,  from 
Locrino  [450,  460,  468,  507]. 

Lo'ge*stil'la.  A  wise  lady  who 
entertained  Rogoro  and  his 
inends  [731,  739]. 

Lo'gi.  One  of  Utgard-Loki's  men, 
actually  fire  in  disguuse,  who 
managed  in  a  contest  at  Utgard 
to  eat  more  arid  faster  than  Loki 
[339,  342]. 

Lo'ki.  The  god  of  strife  and  spirit 
of  evil  in  Scandinavian  myth- 
ology, son  of  the  giant  Firbauti 
arid  Laufey,  or  Nal,  the  friend 
of  the  enemy  of  the  gods,  and 
father  of  the  Midgard  Seipent, 
Fcnrih,  and  Hoi  [332].  It  was  he 
who  artfully  contrived  the  death 
of  Balder  [344-346].  He  was 
finally  chained  to  a  rock  with 
ten  chains  [347]  and  will  so  con- 
tinue till  the  Twilight  of  the 
Gods.  [332,  334-335,  337,  339, 
344-347,  349,  352,  354-355] 

Lo'mond,  Lake,  [405]. 

Lon'don  [381,  387,  402,  403-404]. 

Lot.  In  Arthurian  romance,  King 
of  Orkney,  one  of  the  kings  sub- 
dued by  Arthur,  the  father  of 
Gawain,  Agravain,  Gaheris,  and 
Gareth  [403,  405,  407,  414]. 

Lo'tis.  A  nymph,  changed  to  a 
lotusplant  and  in  that  form 
plucked  by  Diyope  [64], 

Lo'tus-eaters  or  Lo  to  pha'gi. 
Name  of  a  people  who  ate  the 
fruit  of  a  plant  called  lotus.  The 
companions  of  Ulysses  who 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


923 


landed  among  them  and  partook 
of  their  food  lost  all  memory  of 
home  arid  had  to  be  dragged 
away  before  they  would  con- 
tinue their  voyage  [237]. 

Louis  (778-840).  Known  as  Em- 
peror Louis  I,  surnarned  le  De- 
bonnaire  or  le  Pieux.  Son  and 
successor  of  Charlemagne  [825]. 

Love.  Personification  of  love,  is- 
sued from  the  egg  of  Night,  who 
produced  life  and  joy  with  ar- 
rows and  torch  [4]. 

Lu'can.  One  of  King  Arthur's 
knights  [512,  517-518]. 

Lu-ci'na.  In  Roman  mythology, 
the  goddess  of  childbirth.  She 
was  often  confuted  with  Juno 
and  Diana  [10]. 

Lu'cius  Ti-be'ri'US.  Roman 
procurator  in  Britain  demand- 
ing tribute  from  Arthur  [409]. 

Lud.  A  mythical  king  of  Britain, 
founder  of  London  or  Lud's 
Town  [887]. 

Lud'gate.  The  city  gate  in  Lon- 
don where  Lud  was  buried  [387]. 

Lu'ned.  The  maiden  who  guided 
Owain  to  the  Lady  of  the  Foun- 
tain [541-546,  552]. 

Lyc'a-ha*.  A  turbulent  sailor 
[1021. 

Lyca'on.    A  son  of  Priam  [222]. 

Ly'ci  •  a.  A  division  of  Asia  Minor, 
bordering  on  Phrygia,  Pamphy- 
lia,  and  the  Mediterranean.  La- 
tona  passed  through  it  on  her 
flight  from  Juno  [36].  The  fire- 
breathing  Chimaera  made  great 
havoc  in  Lycia  [124],  which  ap- 
pears also  in  the  Iliad  as  the 
native  land  of  Sarpedon  and  the 
final  resting  place  of  this  Trojan 
hero  [220], 

Lye  o  me'des.  King  of  Scyros 
who  treacherously  slew  Theseus 
[154].  Also  the  king  among 
whose  daughters  Achilles  lived 
in  disguise  until  Ulysses  discov- 
ered him  and  made  him  join  his 


countrymen  in  the  Trojan  War 
[212]. 

Ly'cu».  Usurping  king  of  Thebes; 
husband  of  Dirce.  He  and  his 
wife  fell  victim  to  the  revenge  of 
Queen  Antiope  and  her  sons 
Amphion  and  Zethus  [192], 

Lyn'ceus.  Inseparable  companion 
of  his  brother  Idas;  bon  of 
Aphareus  and  Arene.  In  a  quar- 
rel with  their  cousins  Castor  and 
Pollux,  Idas  killed  Cantor;  Pol- 
lux killed  Lynceus;  and  Idas  was 
killed  by  Jupiter  [158]. 


M 

Mab-i-no'gi'on.  Plural  of  Ma- 
bi-no'gi.  A  series  of  Welsh 
tales,  chiefly  relating  to  Arthur 
and  the  Round  Table,  long  in- 
accessible because  of  the  diffi- 
culties in  the  language  but  now 
available  [,527-633]. 

Ma' bon.  In  Celtic  legend,  the  son 
of  Modron  [619,  624]. 

Ma  cha'on.  The  son  of  Aescula- 
pius [218-219,  229]. 

Ma'dan.  Son  of  Guendolen  by 
Locrine.  He  helped  his  mother 
gather  the  army  with  which  she 
defeated  her  husband  after  he 
had  repudiated  her  [382]. 

Ma 'doc.  A  forester  of  King 
Arthur  [554]. 

Ma'dor,  Sir.  In  Arthurian  legend, 
a  Scottish  knight  whom  Sir 
Lancelot  slew  because  of  his  at- 
tack on  Queen  Guinevere's  repu- 
tation [445-448]. 

Mael'gan  Gwyn'edd.  Uncle  of 
Elphin,  whose  boasts  about  his 
wife  and  his  bards  young  Elphin 
countered  by  boasting  about  his 
own  wife  and  his  bard  Tahesin. 
Maelgan  caused  Elphin  to  be 
thrown  into  a  prison  until  Ta- 
liesin  helped  him  to  prove  the 
truth  of  what  he  had  claimed 
[628-629]. 


924 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Mae  o'ni-a.  Ancient  Lydia  [162]. 

Ma'gi.  In  ancient  Persia,  the 
members  of  a  caste  of  priests, 
initiates  of  prophecy  and  the 
occult  arts  [319]. 

M  a  •  ha  •  de'va.  Sansk.,  "great 
Rod."  PA  widely  used  name  of 
Siva  [322]. 

Ma-hom'et,  see  MOHAMMED. 

Ma'ia.  One  of  the  daughters  of 
Atlas  and  Pleione,  and  the  eldest 
and  most  beautiful  of  the  Pleia- 
des [7]. 

mail  armor  [372-373], 

Ma  •  la  •  gi'gi.  In  Carlovingian  leg- 
end, a  great  magician,  one  of 
Charlemagne's  paladins  [656- 
GGG,  669-670,  673,  769,  804,  816- 
819]. 

Ma  le'a-gans.  The  false  knight 
who  sought  to  abduct  Queen 
Ouenevere  [436-441]. 

Mal-va'si-us.  A  king  of  Iceland 
[107]. 

Mam-bri'no.  A  pagan  king, 
owner  of  a  helmet  of  gold  which 
rendered  the  wearer  invulner- 
able and  was  taken  possession  of 
by  Rinaldo  of  Ariosto's  Orlando 
FurioKo  [780]. 

Man  •  a  •  wyd'dan.  The  brother  of 
King  Vran  of  London  [589,  596- 
605]. 

Man-dri-car'do.  In  Roiardo's 
and  Ariosto's  OrZam/o  poems,  the 
son  of  Agrican,  who  laid  siege  to 
Albracca  because  he  was  in  love 
with  Angelica.  He  was  slain  by 
Orlando  [698-701,  753-755,  760, 
765]. 

Man'tu-a.  A  city  in  Italy,  the 
birthplace  of  Virgil  [308]. 

Ma'nu.  Literally,  man.  In  Hindu 
mythology,  one  of  a  class  of 
progenitors  of  mankind.  The 
seventh  Manu,  from  whom  stem 
all  men  now  living,  is  compar- 
able to  Noah  in  that  he  survived 
the  deluge  in  an  ark  [321]. 

Ma'ra  thon.  Theseus  and  Piri- 
thous  met  on  the  plain  of  Ma- 


rathon and  became  undying 
friends  [153]. 

Mark.  King  of  Cornwall,  and 
husband  of  Isoude  the  Fair  [449- 
450,  452,  468,  471]. 

Mar'mo-ra,  Sea  of,  [106]. 

Ma'ro.  Puhlms  Virgilius  Maro. 
See  VIRGIL. 

Mar  •  phi'sa.  The  sister  of  Rogero 
[765-7GS]. 

Mars.  The  Roman  god  of  war; 
identified  in  certain  aspects  with 
the  Greek  Ares.  He  was  also  the 
patron  of  husbandmen  [6,  94, 
107,  131,  216,  224]. 

Mar-sil'i'us.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  a  Saracen  king 
who,  with  the  Christian  traitor 
Ganelon,  plotted  an  attack  upon 
Roland  under  the  very  tree  on 
which  he  was  hanged  later  on 
when  the  emperor  had  revenged 
the  death  of  his  paladin  [801- 
813]. 

Mar'syas.  The  inventor  of  the 
flute,  who  challenged  Apollo  to 
a  musical  competition,  and,  de- 
feated, was  flayed  alive  [193], 

Mats'ya.  Literally,  the  fish.  The 
first  avatar  or  incarnation  of 
Vishnu,  in  which,  in  the  form  of 
a  fish,  he  saved  Manu  by  pulling 
his  ark  to  a  high  crag  [321]. 

Max'i  mus.  The  Roman  general 
who  collaborated  with  Conan, 
the  lord  of  Miniadoc,  in  the  con- 
quest of  Armorica  [388]. 

Me-an'der.  The  modern  Men- 
deres  river  in  Asia  Minor.  It 
dried  up  when  Phaeton  drove 
the  sun  chariot  [44].  Its  pro- 
verbial windings  arc  comparable 
t®  the  labyrinth  of  Minos  [156], 

Me  de'a.  A  sorceress,  daughter 
of  Aeetes,  king  of  Colchis  and 
possessor  of  the  Golden  Fleece 
[131].  By  her  sorcery  she  helped 
Jason  to  secure  the  Golden 
Fleece  [131].  As  Jason's  wife, 
she  rejuvenated  her  father-in- 
law  Aeson  [135]  and  killed  Ja- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


925 


son's  uncle  Pelias  [136].  When 
Jason  deserted  her  to  marry  the 
Corinthian  princess  Creusa,  Me- 
dea sent  her  a  poisoned  robe, 
killed  her  own  and  Jason's  chil- 
dren, and,  after  setting  fire  to 
the  palace,  escaped  to  Athens, 
where  she  married  Aegeus,  the 
father  of  Theseus  [136].  As 
Aegens'  wife,  she  tried  to  make 
her  husband  poison  his  own  son 
[151].  Detected  in  her  scheming 
she  had  to  flee  to  Asia  [152] 
whore  the  country  called  Media 
still  bears  her  name  [117,  131- 
132,  131-137,  151-152] 

Med  •  i  •  ter  •  ra'ne  •  an  Sea  [1 ,  233]. 

Me-do'ro.  The  young  Moor  who 
won  Angelica  for  his  wife  [745- 
752]. 

Me-du'sa.  One  of  the  Gorgons. 
Once  a  beautiful  maiden,  a  god- 
dess punished  her  by  changing 
her  hair  into  serpents  and  herself 
into  a  frightful  monster  the  sight 
of  which  turned  all  living  things 
into  stone.  Perseus  cut  off  her 
head  which  was  then  fixed  in 
Minerva's  Aegis  [116-117].  From 
her  blood  sinking  into  the  earth, 
the  winged  horse  Pegasus  arose 
[124]. 

Me-gae'ra.  In  Greek  mythology, 
one  of  the  Furies  [9]. 

Me  •  lam'pus.  A  Spartan  dog  pur- 
suing Actaoon  whom  Diana  had 
changed  into  a  stag  [35].  Me- 
lampus  is  also  the  name  of  the 
first  mortal  endowed  with  pro- 
phetic powers  whioh  came  to 
him  when  young  serpents  licked 
his  ears  while  he  was  asleep  [193- 
194]. 

Me-lan'thus.  The  steersman  for 
Bacchus  [102]. 

Me-le-a'ger.  Son  of  Oeneus  of 
Calydon  and  Althaea,  distin- 
guished for  slaying  the  Calydo- 
nian  boar,  and  as  one  of  the 
Argonauts.  It  was  declared  by 
the  Fates  that  he  would  die  as 


soon  as  a  piece  of  wood  then  on 
the  fire  was  burnt  up;  his  mother 
snatched  the  log  from  the  fire 
and  extinguished  it;  but  after 
Meleager  had  slam  his  materna1 
uncles,  his  mother  threw  the 
brand  on  the  fire  again,  and 
Meleager  died  [138-141]. 

Me  •  li  •  a'dus.  Father  of  Tristram 
in  the  Arthurian  romances,  and 
King  of  Lyonesse  [149]. 

Mel  -i-cer'tes.  The  son  of  Ino 
and  Athamas.  Trying  to  escape 
her  frenzied  husband,  Ino 
drowned  herself  with  Melicerte3 
who  became  the  god  of  harbors 
[174]. 

Me-lis'sa.  The  prophetess  in 
Arioso's  Orlando  Furioso,  who 
lived  in  Merlin's  cave  [716,  727- 
731,  738,  779]. 

Me-lis'se-us.  The  Cretan  king 
whose  daughters  fed  the  infant 
Jupiter  [179]. 

Mel-pom'e-ne.  One  of  the  nine 
Muses,  the  patroness  of  tragedy 
[8]. 

Mem'non.  An  Ethiopian  prince 
[120],  son  of  Tithonus  and  Au- 
rora, ally  of  the  Trojans  in  their 
war  against  the  Greeks  [227]. 
lie  was  slain  by  Achilles  [207- 
208].  The  statue  of  Amenhotep 
III  at  |Thebes  was  associated 
with  him  and  is  known  as  vocal 
Mernnon  [208-209]. 

Mem'phis.  One  of  the  principal 
cities  in  Egypt  [295,  299]. 

Men  •  e  •  la'us.  King  of  Sparta  and 
husband  of  Helen  of  Troy,  one 
of  the  principal  figures  in  the 
Trojan  conflict  [212-213,  219, 
221,  232-233,  289]. 

Men-oe'ceus.  A  son  of  Creon, 
who  gave  his  life  voluntarily  so 
that  his  father's  war  might  be 
successful  [183]. 

Men'tor.  A  friend  of  Ulysses 
whose  form  Minerva  assumed 
when  she  accompanied  Tele- 


926 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


machus  in  his  search  for  his 
father  [246]. 

Mer'cu-ry.  The  Roman  equiva- 
lent of  the  Greek  Hermes,  son  of 
Maia  and  Jupiter,  to  whom  he 
acted  as  messenger.  He  was  the 
god  of  science  and  commerce, 
patron  of  travellers  and  rogues, 
vagabonds  and  thieves  [7,  13, 
18,  29,  31,  49-51,  56,  89,  116, 
123,  129,  147,  192,  214,  226,  242, 
245,  251,  263,  293,  301]. 

Mer'lin.  A  Welsh  or  British  bard, 
born,  towards  the  close  of  the 
5th  century,  bard  to  King  Ar- 
thur, whose  story  has  been 
mingled  with  that  of  the  en- 
chanter Merlin  of  the  Arthurian 
romances,  the  son  of  a  damsel 
seduced  by  a  fiend,  but  baptized 
by  Blaise,  and  so  rescued  from 
the  power  of  Satan.  He  became 
an  adept  in  necromancy.  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake  entangled  him 
in  a  thornbush  by  means  of 
spells,  and  there  he  still  sleeps, 
though  his  voice  may  sometimes 
be  heard  [389-393,  397,  399-403, 
412-413,  424,  467,  475,  715]. 

Mer'o-pe.  Daughter  of  King 
Oenopion  of  Chios,  sought  vainly 
in  marriage  by  Orion  [205]. 

Mes'mer-is.  ..  The  curative  or- 
acle of  Aesculapius  at  Epidaurus 
likened  by  Bulfmch  to  Mesmer- 
ism [298]. 

Met'a-bus.  In  Virgil's  Afneid,  a 
king  of  Privernurn,  whose  daugh- 
ter Camilla,  the  virgin  queen  of 
the  Volscians,  was  slain  by 
Aruns  [278]. 

Met-a-mor'pho'ses.  A  series  of 
tales  in  Latin  verse  by  Ovid, 
chiefly  mythological,  beginning 
with  the  creation  of  the  world, 
and  ending  with  the  deification 
of  Caesar  and  the  reign  of  Au- 
gustus [309]. 

Met-a-ni'ra.  Wife  of  Celeus. 
She  and  her  husband  were  kind 
to  Ceres  while  she  was  bewailing 


the  loss  of  her  daughter  Proser- 
pine. For  this  the  goddess  cured 
their  son  and  let  him  become  the 
teacher  of  men  in  the  use  of  the 
plough  [54]. 

me  temp  sycho'sis  [272]. 

Me'tis.  Also  called  Prudence,  a 
spouse  of  Jupiter  [5]. 

metrical  romances  [376-378]. 

Me •  zen'ti  •  us.  A  mythical  Etrus- 
can king,  driven  out  by  his 
people  because  of  his  detestable 
cruelty.  He  joined  Turnus  in  an 
alliance  against  Aeneas  [278, 
281]  He  was  felled  in  buttle  by 
Aeneas  together  with  his  brave 
son  Lausus  [285-286]. 

Mi'das.  A  king  of  Phrygia,  son  of 
Gordius  and  Cybele.  He  assisted 
Bacchus'  teacher  Silenus,  whoie- 
upon  the  grateful  god  grunted 
his  wish  that  everything  he 
touched  should  turn  into  gold. 
When  he  found  that  even  his 
food  was  not  exempt  from  his 
new  influence,  he  managed  to 
have  it  transferred  to  the  river 
Pactolus  [46-47].  In  a  contest 
between  Apollo  and  Pan,  Midas 
insisted  that  the  prize  should  go 
to  Pan.  Theieupon  Apollo  had 
his  ears  changed  into  asses'  cars 
[47-48]. 

Mid'gard.  Literally,  the  yard  in 
the  middle.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  abode  of  man,  situated  be- 
tween Niffleheim  and  Asgard, 
and  fashioned  by  Odin,  Vili,  and 
Ve  out  of  the  brow  of  the  giant 
Ymir  whom  they  had  killed 
[329-330,  348]. 

Mid'gard  serpent.  Also  known 
as  Midgardsorm  (the  worm  or 
serpent  of  Midgard).  In  Norse 
mythology,  with  Fenrir  and 
Hel,  offspring  of  Loki  [332]  and 
the  giantess  Angerboda  [344]. 
Odin  threw  the  serpent  into  the 
sea,  where  it  encircles  the  earth 
[333].  At  Utgard,  Thor  almost 
managed  to  lift  the  serpent  off 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


927 


the  ground  [341,  343].  When  the 
twilight  of  the  gods  comes,  the 
Midgard  serpent  will  repair  to 
the  battlefield  of  Vigrid.  There 
it  will  be  killed  by  Thor,  but  its 
venom  will  be  vomited  over  him 
and  he  will  not  survive  [349]. 

Milky  Way.  The  starred  path 
across  the  sky,  the  road  to  the 
palace  of  the  gods  [15]. 

Mi'lo.  A  Greek  athlete  of  the  last 
part  of  the  sixth  century  B  C. 
He  was  borri  in  Crotona  and  led 
the  triumphant  army  of  his  na- 
tive city  against  the  city  of 
Sybaris  in  510  B  C.  Ho  won  six 
prizes  as  a  wrestler  at  the  Olym- 
pic games,  six  more  at  the  Py- 
thian games,  and  crowned  his 
glories  by  carrying  a  four-year- 
old  heifer  through  a  huge  sta- 
dium, then  killing  it  and  eating 
it  all  in  a  single  day.  He  was 
eaten  by  wolves  while  his  hands 
were  caught  in  a  split  tree  which 
he  had  tried  to  tear  apart  [292]. 

Mi'lon  or  Mi-lo'ne.  An  Italian 
knight,  distantly  related  to 
Charlemagne.  Ho  married  the 
Emperor's  daughter  Bertha 
against  her  father's  will  and  be- 
came by  her  the  father  of  Or- 
lando (Roland)  [656]. 

Milton,  John  (1608-1674)   [378]. 

Mi'me.  In  Wagner's  King,  the 
smith  who  helps  Siegfried  to  win 
the  golden  hoard.  He  is  a  dwai  f 
and  the  brother  of  Alberich. 
Finally  he  is  slain  by  Siegfried 
for  his  treachery  [354,  356]. 

Mi'mir.  In  Norse  mythology,  a 
giant  water  demon.  He  dwells 
at  "Mimir's  Well,"  the  source  of 
all  wisdom,  under  Yggdrasill  in 
Jotunnheim.  When  Odin  wanted 
to  drink  from  the  well,  he  had  to 
leave  one  of  his  eyes  in  pawn. 
(Bulfinch  identifies  Mimir  with 
Ymir.)  [330]. 

Mi«ner'va.  The  Roman  goddess 
of  wisdom,  patroness  of  the  arts 


and  trades,  sprung  fully  armed 
from  the  head  of  Jupiter.  She  is 
identified  with  the  Greek  Athene, 
and  was  one  of  the  three  chief 
deities,  the  others  being  Jupiter 
and  Juno  [3-4,  7,  13,  50,  53,  107- 
111,  116-117,  123-125,  147,  153- 
154,  157,  183,  193,  211,  216,  229- 
230,  235,  246-251,  254].  The 
most  famous  statue  of  this  god- 
dess was  by  Phidias,  and  was 
anciently  one  of  the  Seven  Won- 
ders of  the  World  [304]. 

Mi'nos.  A  legendary  king  and 
lawgiver  of  Crete,  the  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Kuropa,  who  became 
after  his  death  one  of  the  judges 
in  the  under  world  [268].  He  is 
often  identified  with  his  grand- 
son, the  father  of  Ariadne  and 
Phaedra  [154],  who  built  the 
labyrinth  for  the  Minotaur  |lo6] 
and  exacted  a  tribute  from  the 
Athenians  until  Theseus  inter- 
vened and  killed  the  monster 
[152].  The  word  Minos  is  now 
generally  considered  to  have 
been  a  title  rather  than  a  proper 
name.  [95,  98-100,  152,  154,  156, 
165,  268] 

Min'o'taur.  A  monster,  half  bull 
and  half  man,  offspring  of  a  bull 
sent  by  Neptune  and  Pasiphae, 
the  wife  of  King  Minos  of  Crete. 
Hence  the  name  (Gr.  tauros,  "a 
bull").  Minos  kept  it  in  the 
labyrinth  built  by  Daedalus  and 
fed  it  human  bodies  exacted  as 
a  tribute  from  the  Athenians. 
When  Theseus  arrived  as  one  of 
the  victims,  he  managed  to  kill 
the  monster  with  the  help  of 
Minos'  daughter  Ariadne  who 
had  fallen  in  love  with  him  [152]. 

mistletoe.  When  Baldur's  life 
seemed  threatened,  all  things 
were  asked  by  Frigga  to  swear 
an  oath  that  they  would  do  no 
harm  to  the  god  of  light  and 
beauty.  She  passed  by  the  mis- 
tletoe which  seemed  too  insig- 


m 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


nificant.  Loki  induced  blind 
Hodur  to  throw  a  mistletoe  at 
Baldur  in  playful  fun,  and  Bal- 
dur  was  killed  [344].  The  Celtic 
druids  sought  the  mistletoe  as  a 
cure-all.  It  had  magic  virtues 
when  it  grew  on  oak  trees  and 
was  plucked  on  the  sixth  day  of 
the  moon  [360]. 

Vine  •  mos'y  -  ne.  G  oddess  of 
memory  and  mother  by  Zeus  of 
the  nine  Muses.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Heaven  and  Earth 
(Uranus  and  Ge)  [4,  8]. 

Wo'dred.  In  Arthurian  romance, 
a  knight  of  the  Round  Table, 
nephew  and  betrayer  of  the 
king.  He  seduced  Guinevere, 
was  mortally  wounded  at  Cam- 
Ian  and  buried  in  the  island  of 
Avalon  [395,  409,  508,  515-518]. 

Mo-ham'med.  Great  prophet  of 
Arabia,  born  in  Mecca,  571  A.D., 
proclaimed  worship  of  God  in- 
stead of  idols,  spread  his  religion 
through  disciples  and  then  by 
force  till  it  prevailed,  with  Ara- 
bian domination,  over  vast  re- 
gions in  Asia,  Africa,  and  Spain 
in  Europe  [647]. 

Moi'rae.  The  Greek  name  for  the 
Fates.  It  is  from  Greek  meros, 
"a  lot."  See  FATES. 

Mo'ly.  The  mythical  herb  given 
by  Hermes  to  Ulysses  as  an  anti- 
dote against  the  sorceries  of 
Circe  [242]. 

Mo'mus.  The  god  of  censure, 
mockery  and  laughter  [9].  It 
was  his  delight  to  jeer  bitterly 
at  gods  and  men. 

monsters  [122-129]. 

Mont-al'ban.  Rinaldo's  castle 
[664]. 

Month.  One  of  the  attendants — 
the  others  being  Year,  Day, 
Hours — of  the  sun  god  Phoebus 
Apollo  [39]. 

Mo  Taunt.  In  Arthurian  legend, 
an  Irish  champion  [450,  468]. 

Mor-ga'na.       An      enchantress, 


identified  with  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake  in  Orlando  Furioso,  and 
also  with  Morgane  Le  Fay,  the 
fairy  sister  of  King  Arthur  [414, 
689,  690-692,  869]. 

Mor  -  gan'  le  Fay.  The  fairy  sister 
of  King  Arthur;  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal characters  in  Arthurian 
romance  and  in  Celtic  legend 
generally;  also  known  as  Mor- 
gaine  and  Morgana  [426-427, 
521], 

Mor'gan  Tud.  King  Arthur's 
chief  physician  [566]. 

Mor'pheus.  Ovid's  name  for  the 
son  of  Sleep,  and  god  of  dreams; 
so  called  from  Gr.  morphe,  form, 
because  he  gives  these  airy  noth- 
ings their  form  and  fashion  [72- 
73]. 

Morte  d'Arthur.  A  famous  vol- 
ume of  Arthurian  legends  by  Sir 
Thomas  Malory,  printed  by 
William  Caxton  in  1471  [378]. 

Mul'ci-ber.  Literally,  "the  sof- 
tener." A  Latin  surname  of 
Vulcan  [10]. 

Mull.  One  of  the  islands  of  the 
Inner  Hebrides  [362]. 

Mu'nin.  One  of  the  two  ravens 
which  sit  on  Odin's  shoulders 
when  he  is  seated  on  his  throne. 
Every  day  they  fly  out  into  the 
world  and  report  to  their  master 
all  they  have  heard  and  seen 
[330].  The  name  of  the  second 
raven  is  Hugin. 

Mu'sae'us.  A  legendary  Greek 
poet;  to  him  were  ascribed  a 
number  of  poems  about  the 
Eleusinian  mysteries  over  which 
he  presided  [194]. 

Mu'ses.  Daughters  of  Jupiter  and 
Mnemosyne  (Memory)  [8]. 
They  were  goddesses  of  memory 
and  later  of  the  arts  and  sci- 
ences. Their  number  came 
eventually  to  be  fixed  as  nine. 
They  lived  on  Mt.  Helicon  [43] 
and  were  put  in  charge  of  Pega- 
sus by  Minerva  [124].  Their 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


929 


names  and  special  domains  were: 
Calliope — epic  poetry;  Clio — 
history;  Erato — love  poetry; 
Euterpe — lyric  poetry;  Melpo- 
mene—  tragedy;  Polymnia  — 
sacred  poetry ;  Terpsichore — 
choral  dance;  Thalia — comedy; 
and  Urania — astronomy.  Apollo 
was  their  guardian  and  leader 
and  was  hence  called  Musagetes 
[3,  8,  43,  124,  126,  1ST,  193] 

Mus'pellsheim  or  Muspelheim. 
In  Norse  mythology,  one  of  the 
nine  worlds.  It  is  a  realm  of  fire 
and  warmth,  and  at  Ragnarok 
its  sons,  fighting  the  gods,  will 
devastate  the  rainbow  bridge 
Bifrost  leading  to  Asgard  [349]. 

Myce'nae.  Ancient  Greek  city, 
capital  of  Agamemnon's  king- 
dom [213,  235]. 

Myrd'din,  see  MERLIN. 

Myr'mi  dons.  A  people  of  Thes- 
saly  who  followed  Achilles  to  the 
siege  of  Troy,  and  were  distin- 
guished for  their  savage  brutal- 
ity and  thirst  for  rapine.  They 
were  originally  ants,  turned  into 
human  beings  by  Jupiter  to 
populate  the  island  of  Oenone 
[95-98,  2191. 

Mys'i-a.  Greek  district  on  the 
northwest  coast  of  Asia  Minor 
[130,  133]. 

mythology,  origin  of,  collected 
myths,  describing  gods  of  early 
peoples  [300-303]. 


N 

na'iad.  A  nymph  of  a  lake,  river, 
fountain,  etc.  The  naiads  de- 
rived their  vitality  and  in  turn 
gave  life  to  the  water  in  which 
they  dwelled  [36,  45,  167,  174, 
178,  209]. 

Na'mo.  Duke  of  Bavaria,  one  of 
Charlemagne's  knights.  [656, 
827ff] 


Nan'na.  Wife  of  Balder.  When 
the  blind  Hodur  slew  her  hus- 
band, she  threw  herself  upon  his 
funeral  pile  [347]. 

Nan'ters.    A   British   king   [403]. 

Nantes.  The  site  of  Caradoc's 
castle  [419]. 

Na'pe.  One  of  the  dogs  pursuing 
Actaeon  when  Diana  had 
changed  him  into  a  stag  [35]. 

Nar -cis'sus.  The  son  of  Cephisus; 
a  beautiful  youth  who  saw  his 
reflection  in  a  fountain,  and 
thought  it  the  presiding  nymph 
of  the  place.  He  gradually  pined 
away  for  love  of  this  unattain- 
able spirit,  and  nothing  remained 
but  a  flower  which  the  nymphs 
called  by  his  name.  He  was  be- 
loved by  Echo  and  his  fate  was 
a  punishment  for  his  cruel  indif- 
ference to  her  passion  [101-103]. 

Nau  sic'a  a.  In  Homer's  Odys- 
sey, daughter  of  Alcinous,  king 
of  the  Phaea'cians,  who  con- 
ducted Ulysses  to  the  court  of 
her  fafher  when  he  was  ship- 
wrecked on  the  coast  [248-249]. 

Nau-sith'o-us.  King  of  the 
Phaeacians,  who  took  his  people 
away  from  the  neighborhood  of 
the  savage  Cyclopes  to  the  is- 
land of  Scheria  [247].  He  was 
succeeded  by  his  son  Alcinous 
[248],  under  whose  realm  Ulysses 
stayed  with  the  Phaeacians. 

Na'xoa.  The  largest  island  of  the 
Cyclades  group  in  the  Aegean 
Sea.  It  is  celebrated  for  its  wine 
and  appears  in  legend  as  Bac- 
chus' favorite  island.  It  was 
here  that  Theseus  deserted 
Ariadne  [152]  whom  the  god 
found,  consoled,  and  married 
[165].  The  island  figures  promi- 
nently in  the  account  of  Acetes, 
the  Tyrrhenian  mariner,  who 
alone  among  his  fellows  did  not 
conspire  to  abduct  Bacchus  to 
Egypt  and  subsequently  became 
a  Bacchanal  on  Naxos  [163-164]. 


930 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


nee' tar.  Celestial  beverage  used 
by  the  gods  of  Olympus  [3J. 

Ne'gus.  An  Amharic  word  mean- 
ing king.  The  title  of  the  ruler 
of  Abyssinia.  Identified  in  the 
fifteenth  century  with  Prester 
John  [328], 

Ne-me'a.  A  forest  devastated  by 
a  lion,  the  Nemean  Lion,  which 
was  killed  by  Hercules  [144]. 
The  Nemean  games  were  held  in 
honor  of  Jupiter  and  Hercules 
[155]. 

Nem'e-sis.  The  goddess  of  just 
distribution.  Because  of  her 
persecution  of  the  excessively 
rich  or  proud,  she  came  to  be 
regarded  as  a  goddess  of  retribu- 
tive justice.  She  was  represented 
with  winfj;s,  the  wheel  of  fortune, 
in  a  chariot  drawn  by  griffins, 
and  was  often  confused  with 
Adrastea,  the  goddess  of  the 
inevitable  [9]. 

Nen'ni-us.  Brother  of  Cassibel- 
luuii,  opponent  of  the  Romans, 
conquered  by  Caesar  [387]. 

Ne'op-tol'e-mus  or  Pyr'rhus. 
Ron  of  Achilles;  called  Pyrrhus 
from  his  yellow  hair,  and  Nc- 
optolemus  because  he  was  a  new 
soldier.  It  was  he  who  slew 
Priam.  He  married  Hermione, 
daughter  of  Helen  and  Merie- 
laus.  On  his  return  home  he  was 
murdered  by  Orestes  [233]. 

ne- pen' the  or  ne  pen'thes 
(Gr.  ne,  not,  and  penthos,  grief). 
An  Egyptian  drug  fabled  to 
drive  away  care  and  make  per- 
sons forget  their  woes.  Poly- 
damna,  queen  of  Egypt,  gave  it 
to  Helen  [233]. 

Neph'e  •  le.  The  mother  of  Phryx- 
us  and  Helle  [34,  129]. 

Neph'thy*.  An  Egyptian  goddess 
[294]. 

Nep'tune.  The  Roman  god  of  the 
sea,  corresponding  with  the 
Greek  Poseidon  [4-5,  16,  44,  107, 
109,  132,  144,  154,  171-174,  190, 


199,  205,  216-218,  223,  230,  244, 
252,  261,  264,  297,  379]. 

Ne're  •  ids.  Sea  nymphs,  beautiful 
daughters  of  Nereus  and  Doris. 
They  were  fifty  (or  one  hundred) 
in  number;  they  played,  danced, 
and  were  wooed  by  the  Tritons. 
The  most  famous  were  Amphi- 
trite,  Thetis,  and  Galatea.  [44, 
167,  173,  196]. 

Ne're •  us.  The  father  of  the  water 
nymphs,  a  very  old  prophetic 
god  of  great  kindliness.  His 
scalp,  chin,  and  breast  were  cov- 
ered with  seaweed  instead  of 
hair  [40,  173-174,  209]. 

Nes'sus.  A  centaur  killed  by  Her- 
cules, whose  jealous  wife  sent 
him  a  robe  or  shirt  steeped  in  the 
blood  of  Nessus,  which  poisoned 
him  [147]. 

Nes'tor.  A  king  of  Pylos,  son  of 
Neleus,  renowned  for  his  wis- 
dom, justice,  and  knowledge  of 
war,  the  oldest  councilor  of  the 
Greeks  before  Tioy.  See  also 
HILDERKAND  [130,  138-139,  208, 
213,  217-219,  335] 

Ni'be-lun'gen  Hoard.  A  treas- 
ure seized  by  Siegfried  from  the 
dwarf  Albcrich.  After  killing 
Siegfried,  Hagen  took  possession 
of  it,  and  buried  it  in  the  Rhine, 
where  it  was  lost  after  Hagen 
was  killed  by  Kriemhild.  This 
treasure  is  the  theme  of  Wag- 
ner '.s  Riny  [353]. 

Ni'be-lun'genlied.  A  Middle 
High  German  epic,  giving  essen- 
tially the  same  stories  as  the 
Norse  Volsunga  Saga  [352,  354]. 

Nibelungen  Ring,  see  RING  DES 

NlBELUNGEN. 

Ni'be- lungs.  In  Teutonic  myth- 
ology, originally  a  race  of  dwarfs, 
whose  hoard  was  conquered  by 
Siegfried.  The  name  came  to  be 
applied  to  the  followers  of  Sieg- 
fiied  and  was  finally  used  as  a 
synonym  of  Burgundians  [353- 
3541. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


931 


Nid'hog'ge,  see  NITHHOGO. 
Niffle'heim,  see  NIFL'HEIM. 
Nifl'heim.    In  Norse  mythology, 
that  one   of    the    Nine   Worlds 
which  lies  in  the  north  and  is  a 
cold  world  of  fog.    One  of  the 
roots  of  the  ash  tree  Yggdrasili 
extends  into  it,  being  gnawed  at 
continuously  by  the  adder  Nith- 
hogg.  [330,  333,  335,  348] 
Night,  see  Nox. 

Nile.  The  river  Nile  dried  up 
when  Phaoton  drove  the  chariot 
of  the  sun  [44].  When  To,  in  the 
form  of  a  heifer,  was  chased  all 
over  the  world  by  Juno's  gadfly, 
she  finally  found  safety  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nile  [31]. 
Nim'rod's  tower  [301]. 
Ni'nus.  Son  of  Belus,  husband  of 
Semir'amis,  and  the  reputed 
builder  of  Nineveh.  It  is  at  his 
tomb  that  Pyramus  and  Thisbe 
meet  [24]. 

Ni'o-be.  Daughter  of  Tantalus, 
proud  Queen  of  Thebes,  whose 
seven  sons  and  seven  daughters 
were  killed  by  Apollo  and  Diana, 
at  which  Amphion,  her  husband, 
killed  himself,  and  Niobe  wept 
until  she  was  turned  to  stone 
[111-115]. 

Ni'sus.  A  king  of  Megara,  father 
of  Scylla.  He  was  changed  to  an 
eagle  [98-101].  Another  Nisus 
and  his  friend  Euryalus  accom- 
panied Aeneas,  from  Troy,  and 
won  great  distinction  in  the  war 
with  Turnus.  They  entered  the 
enemy's  camp  at  dead  of  night. 
Euryalus  was  slain,  and  Nisus, 
trying  to  save  his  friend,  per- 
ished also  [2S2-2S4]. 
Nith'hogg.  In  Norse  mythology, 
a  serpent  in  the  world  of  Nifl- 
heim.  It  feeds  on  one  of  the 
roots  of  the  ash  tree  Yggdrasili 
[330]. 

No'ah.  In  legend,  through  his  son 
Japhet,  his  grandson  Histion, 
and  his  great-grandsons  Francus, 


Britto,  Romanus,  and  Aleman- 
nus,  the  ancestor  of  the  French, 
British,  Romans,  and  Germans 
[379]. 

No'man.  The  name  assumed  by 
Ulysses  in  the  cave  of  the  Cy- 
clops [239]. 

Norns.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 
three  Fates  Urth  (Past),  Ver- 
thandi  (Present),  and  Skuld 
(Future),  who  dwell  at  the  sa- 
cred well  Urtharbrunn  at  the 
foot  of  the  mighty  ash  tree 
Yggdrasili  tending  carefully  the 
root  extending  into  Abgard  [330], 

northern  mythology  [328-357]. 

No'thung.  The  magic  sword  of 
Wotan,  which  Siegmund,  and 
later  Siegfried,  gained  possession 
of  [355-356]. 

No'tus.  In  Roman  mythology,  a 
personification  of  the  south 
\vind;  identical  with  Auster 
[17G]. 

Nox  (Greek  Nyx).  A  goddess,  night 
porbonified.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  Chaos,  sister  of  Erebus, 
and  mother  of  Day  and  Light 
[4]. 

Nu'ma  Pom-pil'i'us.  The  leg- 
endary second  king  of  Rome 
(715-672  B.C.).  The  nymph 
Egeria  favored  him  with  secret 
interviews  and  taught  the  les- 
sons of  wisdom  and  law  which 
he  embodied  in  the  institutions 
of  his  nation.  These  include  the 
temple  of  Janus,  the  worship  of 
Terminus,  the  vestal  virgins, 
etc.  [11,  175]. 

nymphs.  Beautiful  maidens,  less- 
er divinities  of  nature:  dryads 
and  hamadryads,  tree-nymphs; 
naiads,  spring-,  brook-,  and 
river-nymphs;  Nereids,  sea- 
nymphs;  oreads,  mountain-  or 
hill-nymphs.  [44,  79,  208] 
Ny  •  sae'an  nymphs.  Jupiter  gave 
the  infant  Bacchus  into  their 
charge  [1601. 
Nyx,  see  Nox. 


932 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


O  ce'a-nus.  A  Titan  ruling  the 
watery  elements  [4,  32,  59,  172, 
174]. 

O-cyr'o-e.  A  prophetess,  daugh- 
ter of  the  Centaur  Chiron  [127]. 

Od'er-ic.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando 
Furioso,  the  false  knight  who, 
under  pretense  of  escorting 
Isabella,  sold  her  as  a  slave  [743]. 

O'din.  The  Scandinavian  name 
of  the  god  called  by  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  Woden;  the  god  of  wis- 
dom, poetry,  war,  and  agricul- 
ture. He  became  the  All-wise 
by  drinking  from  Mimir's  foun- 
tain at  the  cost  of  one  eye.  His 
remaining  eye  is  the  Sun.  The 
father  of  Odin  was  Bor.  His 
brothers  are  Vili  and  Ve.  His 
wife  is  Frigga.  His  sons,  Thor 
arid  Balder.  His  mansion  is 
Gladsheim.  His  court,  Valhalla. 
His  two  black  ravens  are  Hugin 
(thought)  and  Munin  (memory). 
His  steed,  Sleipnir.  His  ships, 
Skidbladnir  and  Naglfar.  His 
spear,  Gungnir,  which  never 
fails  to  hit  the  mark  aimed  at. 
His  throne  is  Hlidskjalf.  His 
wolves,  Geri  and  Freki.  He  will 
be  ultimately  swallowed  up  by 
the  Fenris  wolf  at  Ragnarok. 
[329-331,  344,  347,  349,  351] 

Od'yar.  In  the  Welsh  Mabinogion, 
a  famous  Frankish  hero  [570]. 

O-dys'seus,  see  ULYSSES. 

Od'ys-sey.  Homer's  epic  poem, 
relating  the  wandering  of  Ulysses 
from  the  end  of  the  Trojan  War 
until  his  return  to  Ithaca  [3, 
227,  236]. 

Oed'i-pus.  Theban  hero,  who 
guessed  the  riddle  of  the  Sphinx 
and  became  king  of  Thebes 
[123-124,  182]. 

Oe'neus.  A  king  of  Calydon, 
father  of  Meleager  [138-140]. 

Oe-no'ne.   A  nymph,  married  by 


Paris  in  his  youth,  and  aban- 
doned for  Helen  [229]. 

Oe'no'pi-on.  King  of  Chios, 
father  of  Merope.  He  deprived 
Orion  of  his  sight  for  having 
tried  to  abduct  his  daughter 
[205]. 

Oe'ta,  Mount.  The  scene  of 
Hercules'  death  [148]. 

O'gier  the  Dane.  One  of  the 
great  heroes  of  medieval  ro- 
mance; a  paladin  of  Charle- 
magne, and  son  of  Geoffrey, 
king  of  Denmark,  of  which 
country  (as  Holger  Danske)  he 
is  still  the  national  hero  [653- 
654,  656,  848,  872]. 

Ol'i-ver.  Charlemagne's  favorite 
paladin,  who,  with  Roland,  rode 
by  his  side.  He  was  the  son  of 
Regnier  of  Genoa  and  brother  of 
the  beautiful  Aude.  His  sword 
was  Hauteclaire,  his  horse  Fer- 
rant  d'Espagtic.  Ho  was  killed 
with  his  friend  Roland  at 
Roncesvalles  [657,  659-660,  783- 
789]. 

OK  wen.  The  wife  of  Kilwich  [609, 
615]. 

O'lym'pia.  A  valley  in  Elis,  cele- 
brated for  the  sanctuary  of  Zeus 
erected  there,  and  the  Olympic 
games  held  there  every  four 
years  [155]. 

O  •  lym'pi  •  ad.  Among  the  ancient 
Greeks,  a  period  of  four  years, 
the  interval  between  the  cele- 
brations of  the  Olympic  Games 
[155].  The  first  Olympiad  began 
in  776  B.C.,  the  last  in  393  A.D. 

Olympian  Zeus  or  Jupiter.  A 
colossal  statue  by  Phidias  of 
Jupiter  in  the  temple  at  Olym- 
pia.  It  was  "chryselephantine," 
that  is,  composed  of  gold  and 
ivory,  and  was  removed  to  Con- 
stantinople in  the  fifth  century 
A.D.  and  burned  in  476.  Known 
only  through  secondary  sources 
[304-305]. 

Olympic  games  [155]. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


933 


O  •  lym'pus.  The  dwelling-place 
of  the  dynasty  of  gods  of  which 
Zeus  or  Jupiter  was  the  head, 
corresponding  to  the  Norse  Val- 
halla [1,  3,  5,  43,  94,  218,  280]. 

Om'pha-le.  The  masculine  but 
attractive  Queen  of  Lydia,  to 
whom  Hercules  was  bound  a 
slave  for  three  years.  He  fell  in 
love  with  her,  and  led  an  effemi- 
nate life,  while  she  wore  the 
lion's  skin  and  was  lady  para- 
mount [147]. 

O  •  phi'on.  The  king  of  the  Titans 
who  ruled  Olympus  until  do- 
throned  by  the  gods  Saturn  and 
Rhea  [4-5]. 

Op*,  see  HHEA. 

or'a-cles.  Answers  from  the  goda 
to  questions  from  mortals  seek- 
ing knowledge  or  advice  on  the 
future.  They  were  usually  given 
in  equivocal  form  so  as  to  fit  any 
event.  Also,  the  places  where 
such  answers  were  given  forth 
by  a  priest  or  priestess  [269-300]. 

Ore.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso, 
a  sea  monster  that  devoured 
men  and  women.  Rogero  res- 
cued the  fair  Angelica  from  the 
Ore  by  means  of  a  burnished 
shield  whose  brightness  was  fatal 
to  man  and  beast  [732-735]. 

O're-ad.  A  mountain  or  hill 
nymph.  The  name  is  related  to 
the  word  "origin"  and  suggests 
"a  becoming  visible,  appearing." 
[167,  170J 

O- res' tea.  The  son  of  Agamem- 
non and  Clytemnestra.  Because 
of  his  crime  in  killing  his  mother 
he  was  pursued  by  the  Furies 
until  purified  by  Minerva  [234- 
235]. 

O-ri'on.  A  giant  and  hunter  [122], 
Bon  of  Neptune.  In  the  attempt 
to  gain  possession  of  Merope, 
he  was  blinded  by  her  father 
Oenopion  but  restored  to  sight 
by  Apollo  [205-206].  He  became 
a  favorite  with  Diana  whose 


brother  Apollo  made  her  kill 
him  inadvertently  [206].  Diana 
placed  him  among  the  stars 
where  he  appears  as  the  con- 
stellation Orion  with  dog  Sirius 
following  him. 

O'rith'yi'a-  The  nymph  whom 
the  north  wind  Boreas  loved. 
She  bore  him  two  sons,  Zetes 
and  Calais,  who  became  famous 
as  winged  warriors  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  Argonauts  [176]. 

Or-lan'do  or  Roland.  Nephew 
of  Charlemagne,  and  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  knights  in  me- 
dieval romance.  His  exploits  are 
described  in  the  Chanson  de 
Roland  and  Orlando  Furioso, 
and  he  appears  in  Bishop  Tur- 
pin's  Chronicles .  He  perished  in 
the  battle  of  Roncesvalles  (778). 
[651-653,  656-660,  666-669,  674- 
683,  685-693,  704-705,  737-745, 
753-759,  763,  773,  782-788,  789- 
792,  803-813] 

Or'mazd  or  A'hu  •  ra-Maz"da. 
Also  Or'muzd.  In  Zoroastrian- 
ism,  the  supreme  deity,  prin- 
ciple of  good,  and  creator  of  the 
world.  Destined  to  prevail 
finally  over  Ahriman,  the  prin- 
ciple of  evil,  who  is  either  con- 
ceived as  the  product  of  a  mo- 
ment of  uncertainty  on  the  part 
of  Ormazd  or  as  having  sprung, 
together  with  Ormazd,  from 
their  common  father  Eternity 
[318]. 

O  •  ro  •  mas'des.  Greek  form  of 
Ormazd  [318], 

Or'phe  •  us.  A  Thracian  poet,  son 
of  Apollo  and  Calliope,  whose 
music  moved  even  inanimate 
objects.  He  took  part  in  the 
Argonautic  expedition  [130]  and 
appeased  a  storm  [158].  When 
his  wife  Eurydice  died,  he 
charmed  Pluto  who  released  her 
on  condition  that  he  would  not 
look  back.  He  did  turn  round 
and  lost  her  again  [185-188].  He 


934 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


perished,  torn  to  pieces  by  infu- 
riated Thracian  maenads.  [130, 
133,  158,  185-188,  191,  194,  271] 

O-si'ris.  One  of  the  chief  gods  of 
Egyptian  mythology;  husband 
of  Isis,  judge  of  the  dead,  ruler 
of  the  kingdom  of  ghosts,  the 
Creator,  the  god  of  the  Nile,  and 
the  constant  foe  of  his  brother 
(or  son),  Set,  tho  principle  of 
evil  [292-294]. 

Os'sa.  Mountain  of  Thessaly  [43, 
123].  See  also  PELION. 

Os'sian.  A  legendary  Gaelic  bard 
and  warrior  of  about  tho  end  of 
the  3rd  century,  tho  son  of  Finn 
or  Fingal  [361]. 

Ov'id  (43  B.C.-17  A.D.).  A  Latin 
poet  in  the  time  of  Augustus 
who  wrote  the  poetical  fables 
called  Metamorphoses  [98,  275, 
289,  308]. 

O-wain'.  A  knight  of  King  Ar- 
thur's court  [534,  539-54G,  548- 
549,  550-553]. 

O'zan'na.  A  knight  of  King 
Arthur's  Round  Table  [435]. 


Pac-to'Ius.  A  small  river  of 
Lydia  in  Asia  Minor,  a  tributary 
of  the  Hermus.  The  fact  that  it 
carried  gold  was  explained  by 
the  story  of  Midas  whose  ability 
— given  him  by  Bacchus — to 
turn  everything  he  touched  into 
gold  proved  fatal  when  it  af- 
fected also  his  food  and  was 
mercifully  transferred  to  the 
waters  of  the  river  [47].  By  the 
time  of  Augustus  the  Pactolus 
had  ceased  to  produce  gold. 

Pae'on.  A  name  for  both  Apollo 
and  Aesculapius,  gods  of  medi- 
cine [174]. 

Pa'la-dins.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  the  twelve  Peers 
or  douzepers  who  formed  the 
king's  immediate  entourage 
[656]. 


Pa  •  lae'mon.  The  son  of  Athamafl 
and  Ino  [174]. 

Pal-a  me'des.  In  Greek  legend, 
a  warrior  against  Troy,  who 
served  as  messenger  to  call 
Ulysses  to  the  fight  [212].  He 
was  finally  killed  through  the 
machinations  of  Ulysses.  In 
Arthurian  romance,  Sir  Pala- 
medes  is  a  Saracen  knight  who 
was  overcome  in  single  combat 
and  converted  to  the  Christian 
faith  by  Tristram  [451,  455,  464, 
472,  474,  510]. 

Pal'a  •  tine.  One  of  Rome's  Seven 
Hills  [281]. 

Pal-la'di'um.  Properly,  any  im- 
age of  Pallas  Athene,  but  espe- 
cially applied  to  an  image  at 
Troy  which  was  stolen  by  Ulys- 
ses and  Diomeclcs  [229,  232]. 

Pa'les.  In  Roman  mythology,  a 
goddess  presiding  over  cattle, 
flocks,  and  pastures  [10,  11]. 

Pa-li-nu'rus.  The  faithful  pilot 
of  Aeneas.  Sleeping  at  the  helm, 
he  fell  into  the  sea  and  was 
drowned  [2G4,  207]. 

Pal  •  la'di  •  um.  Properly,  any  im- 
age of  Pallas  Athene  or  Minerva, 
but  specially  applied  to  the  im- 
age at  Troy,  which  was  stolon 
by  Ulysses  and  Diomedes  [229, 
267]. 

Pal'las.  The  son  of  Evandcr  [279- 
282,  280-287]. 

Pal'las  A-the'ne,  see  MINERVA. 

Pam'pha  •  gus.  One  of  the  dogs 
pursuing  Actaeon  whom  Diana 
had  changed  into  a  stag  [35]. 

Pan.  Called  Faunus  by  the  Ro- 
mans, the  Greek  god  of  nature 
and  the  universe  [9,  30-31,  47, 
76,  166-168]. 

Pan  ath  e  nae'a.  A  festival  in 
honor  of  Pallas  Athene,  the  Ro- 
man Minerva  [154]. 

Pan  de'an  Pipes.  A  musical  in- 
strument of  reeds,  made  by  Pan 
in  memory  of  Syrinx  [30]. 

Pan  do'ra.      Literally,     the    all- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


935 


gifted.  The  first  woman,  dow- 
ered with  gifts  by  every  god, 
yet  entrusted  with  a  box  she 
was  cautioned  not  to  open. 
Curious,  she  opened  it  and  out 
flew  all  the  ills  of  humanity, 
leaving  behind  only  hope,  which 
remained  [13-14].  She  is  to  be 
compared  with  Eve  [17-18]. 
Pan-dra'sus.  A  king  of  Greece 
who  persecuted  the  Trojan  exiles 
under  Brutus,  the  great-grand- 
son of  Aeneas.  The  Trojans 
fought  and  captured  him,  and, 
with  his  daughter  Imogen  as 
Brutus'  wife,  emigrated  to  Al- 
bion, later  called  Britain  [379- 
380], 

Pan'o-pe,  plain  of.  The  site  of 
the  city  of  Thebes,  to  which 
Cadmus  was  led  by  a  sacred 
cow  [92]. 

Pan'thus.    The  alleged  earlier  in- 
carnation of  Pythagoras  [289]. 
Paph-la'go'ni-a.       An     ancient 
country   of   Asia   Minor,   south 
of  the  Black  Sea  [208]. 
Pa'phos.    The  daughter  of  Pyg- 
malion and  Galatea  [63,  60]. 
Par'cae.    The  Latin  name  for  the 
Fates.     It  is  from  pars,  a  lot. 
See  FATES. 
Pa-ri'ahs.     The  lowest   caste  of 

the  Hindus  [324]. 

Par'is.  The  son  of  Priam,  King  of 
Troy,  and  Hecuba;  through  his 
abduction  of  Helen  he  is  the 
cause  of  the  Trojan  War.  It  was 
he  who  awarded  the  Apple  of 
Discord  and  the  title  of  "Fair- 
est" to  Venus,  who  in  return 
assisted  him  to  carry  off  Helen, 
for  whom  he  deserted  his  wife 
Oenone  [211-213].  At  Troy, 
Paris  earned  the  contempt  of  all 
by  his  cowardice;  he  killed 
Achilles  with  a  poisoned  arrow 
[228]  and  suffered  the  same  fate 
at  the  hands  of  Philoctetes  when 
the  city  was  taken.  [211-213, 
216,  218,  228-229.  232.  261] 


Pa'ris.  Besieged  by  King  Arthur 
[405]. 

Par  •  nas'sian  laurel.  A  wreath  of 
laurel  from  Parnassus,  awarded 
to  the  winner  of  the  poetic  con- 
tests in  ancient  Greece  [47]. 

Par-nas'sus.  A  mountain  near 
Delphi,  Greece,  with  two  sum- 
mits, one  of  which  was  conse- 
crated to  Apollo  and  the  Muses, 
the  other  to  Bacchus  [16,  19-20, 
43,  297]. 

Par'sees  or  Par'sis.  Descendants 
of  Persian  Ghcbcrs  who  fled  to 
India  during  the  Mohammedan 
persecutions  of  the  7th  and  8th 
centuries.  The  word  means 
People  of  Pars— i.e.  Persia  [320]. 

Par'the-non.  The  great  temple 
on  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  to 
Athene  Parthenos  (i.e.  the  Vir- 
gin), many  of  the  sculptured 
friezes  and  fragments  of  pedi- 
ments of  which  are  now  in  the 
British  Museum  among  the  El- 
gin Marbles.  The  Temple  was 
begun  by  the  architect  Ictinus 
about  450  B.C.,  and  the  embel- 
lishment of  it  was  mainly  the 
work  of  Phidias,  whose  colossal 
chryselephantine  statue  of  Athe- 
ne was  its  chief  treasure  [155, 
304]. 

Passe  •  breul.  Sir  Tristram's  horse 
[462]. 

Pa-troc'lus.  The  loyal  friend  of 
Achilles.  When  Achilles  refused 
to  fight  to  annoy  Agarnem'non, 
he  sent  Patroclus  m  his  own 
armor  to  the  battle.  Patroclus 
was  slain  by  Hector  [218-221, 
225]. 
Pe'cheur,  King.  The  uncle  of 

Perceval  or  Parzival  [483]. 
Peers.  The  twelve  most  illustrious 
knights  or  paladins  of  Charle- 
magne. Also  known  as  douzepers 
[656].  Their  names  are  not  al- 
ways given  alike.  In  the  Chan- 
son de  Roland  they  are:  Roland 
(or  Orlando),  Oliver,  I  von, 


936 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Ivory,  Oton,  Borengier,  Samson, 
Anseis,  Gerin,  Gerier,  Engelier, 
and  Gerard  de  Rousillon. 
Peg'a<«u8.  The  winged  horse  of 
the  Muses,  born  of  the  sea  foam 
and  the  blood  of  the  slaughtered 
Medusa.  He  was  caught  by 
Bellerophon,  who  mounted  him 
and  destroyed  the  Chimaera; 
when  Bellerophon  attempted  to 
ascend  to  heaven,  he  was  thrown 
from  the  horse,  and  Pegasus 
mounted  alone  to  the  skies  to 
become  the  constellation  of  the 
same  name.  When  the  Muses 
contended  with  the  daughters  of 
Pi'eros,  Mount  Helicon  rose 
heavenward,  Pegasus  gave  it  a 
kick  and  brought  out  of  the 
mountain  the  soul -inspiring  wa- 
ters of  the  fountain  Hippocrene 
[124-126]. 

Pe'leus.  King  of  the  Myrmidons 
and  father  of  Achilles  by  Thetis. 
He  gave  his  son  the  Pelian  spear 
[138,  173,  211]. 

Pe'li-as.  Jason's  uncle,  who 
usurped  the  Argonaut's  king- 
dom, promising  to  return  it  to 
him  if  Jason  would  bring  him 
the  Golden  Fleece  [130,  132, 
136,  180]. 

Pel'i'on.  When  the  giants  tried 
to  scale  heaven,  they  placed 
Mount  Pelion  upon  Mount  Ossa, 
two  peaks  in  Thessaly,  for  a 
scaling  ladder  [123,  133]. 

Pel'le-as.  In  Arthurian  romance, 
one  of  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  [435]. 

pe-na'tes,  see  LARES  AND  PE- 
NATES. 

Pe  •  nel'o  •  pe.  The  wife  of  Ulysses, 
who,  waiting  twenty  years  for 
his  return  from  the  Trojan  War, 
put  off  the  suitors  for  her  hand 
by  promising  to  choose  one 
when  her  weaving  was  done,  but 
unravelled  at  night  what  she 
had  woven  by  day  [77,  184-185, 
212,  254,  256]. 


Pe-ne'us.  A  river  god,  father 
of  the  nymph  Daphne  [20]. 
Also  the  name  of  one  of  the 
rivers  which  Hercules  brought 
through  the  Augean  stables  in 
the  endeavor  to  clean  them 
[144]. 

Pen-the-si-le'a.  The  Queen  of 
the  Amazons,  slain  by  Achilles 
when  she  came  to  the  aid  of  the 
Trojans  after  the  death  of  Hec- 
tor. Her  beauty  and  courage 
won  for  her  a  sincere  lament 
from  her  slayer  [228]. 
Pen'thc-us.  Grandson  of  Cud- 
mus  [94].  As  a  king  of  Thebes 
he  tried  to  stop  a  Bacchic  festi- 
val and  was  torn  to  pieces  by 
his  mother  Agave  and  his  aunts 
Ino  and  Autonoe,  whom  the  god 
had  blinded  so  that  they  saw  in 
him  a  wild  boar  [161-164]. 
pe  nus.  The  pantry  in  a  Roman 
house,  giving  its  name  to  the 
Penates,  the  housegods  [11]. 
Pep'in.  The  father  of  Charle- 
magne [650]. 

Pep'lus.  The  sacred  robe  of  Mi- 
nerva [155]. 

Per'ci-val,  Sir.  A  knight  of  the 
Round  Table  who  finally  won  a 
sight  of  the  Holy  Grail.  Ho  was 
the  son  of  Sir  Pellinore  and 
brother  of  Sir  Lamerocko,  and 
was  brought  up  in  innocence  in 
the  forest.  After  his  initial  ex- 
periences at  the  court  of  King 
Arthur  [479-485],  he  joined 
Galahad  in  the  quest  of  the  Holy 
Grail  [504-506],  In  the  English 
legend,  ho  catches  a  glimpse  of 
the  Grail.  In  German  versions, 
under  the  name  Parzival  he  is 
completely  successful.  [479-485, 
494-497,  504-507,  570] 
Per'dix.  The  skillful  nephew  and 
apprentice  of  Daedalus.  He  in- 
vented the  saw  and  made  the 
first  pair  of  compasses.  When 
his  jealous  uncle  tried  to  kill  him 
by  pushing  him  off  a  high  tower, 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


937 


Minerva  saved  his  life  by  chang- 
ing him  Into  a  partridge  [157]. 
Latin  perdix,  "partridge." 

P«r  •  i  •  an'der.  A  king  of  Corinth, 
usually  counted  among  the 
seven  wise  men  of  Greece.  Host 
of  Arion  [195-198]. 

Per-i-phe'tes.  The  son  of  Vul- 
can, killed  by  Theseus  [151]. 

Pei"seph'o-ne,  see  PROSERPINE. 

Per'seus.  Son  of  Jupiter  and 
Danae,  slayer  of  the  Gorgon 
Medusa,  and  deliverer  of  An- 
dromeda from  the  sea-monster 
[116-122,  124,  202]. 

Phae  a'ci-ans.  A  god-like  peo- 
ple, who  received  the  wandering 
Ulysses  hospitably  [247-253]. 

Phae'dra.  The  daughter  of  Pasi- 
phae  and  King  Minos  of  Crete; 
sistei  of  Ariadne.  She  became 
the  wife  of  Theseus  and  fell  in 
love  with  her  stepson  Hippoly- 
tus.  When  her  advances  were 
repulsed,  she  aroused  the  jeal- 
ousy of  her  infatuated  husband 
and  Hippolytus  was  killed  [153- 
154].  When  his  innocence  be- 
came evident,  Phaedra  com- 
mitted suicide  and  Aesculapius 
with  the  help  of  Diana  restored 
Hippolytus  to  life. 

Pha'e  •  thon.  The  son  of  Phoebus, 
who  undertook  to  drive  his 
father's  chariot,  but  was  upset 
and  would  have  set  the  world  on 
fire  had  not  Zeus  transfixed  him 
with  a  thunderbolt  [38-45]. 

Pha  isj-thu'sa.  Sister  of  Phaethon 
(or  Helios)  and  Lampetia; 
daughter  of  Hyperion,  whose 
cattle  she  tended  with  her  sister 
on  the  island  of  Thrinakia  [244]. 

Phan'ta-sos.  A  son  of  Somnus, 
bringing  strange  images  to  sleep- 
ing men  [72]. 

Pha'on.  A  boatman  of  Mytilene, 
beloved  by  the  poetess  Sappho 
who  failed  to  obtain  a  return  of 
affection  [203]. 

Phe'lot.    A  treacherous  knight  of 


Wales,  who  sought  to  kill  Sir 
Launcelot  [433-434]. 

Pher'e  din.  A  friend  of  Sir  Tris- 
tram, also  in  love  with  Isoude 
the  Fair  [457-458]. 

Phid  i  as  (500?-?430  B.C.).  Fa- 
mous Greek  sculptor.  His  great- 
est works  were  the  statue  of  the 
Olympian  Zeus  (Jupiter)  at  Ehs 
and  the  Athene  Parthenoa 
(Minerva)  at  Athens  [303-305], 

Phi-le'mon  and  Bau'cis.  Poor 
cottagers  of  Phrygia,  husband 
and  wife,  who  entertained  Ju- 
piter so  hospitably  that  he  prom- 
ised to  grant  them  whatever  re- 
quest they  made.  They  asked 
that  both  might  die  together. 
Philemon  became  an  oak,  Baucis 
a  linden  tree,  and  their  branches 
intertwined  at  the  top  [49-51]. 

Phil  •  oc  •  te'tes.  A  famous  archer, 
to  whom  Hercules,  at  death, 
gave  his  arrows  [148].  He  joined 
the  Greeks  against  Troy  but  was 
left  behind  on  Lemnos  because 
of  the  offensive  smell  of  a  fester- 
ing wound.  An  oracle  having  de- 
clared that  only  the  arrows  of 
Hercules  could  fell  Troy,  Phil- 
octetes  was  sent  for.  He  went 
to  Troy,  slew  Paris,  and  the 
prophecy  came  true  [229]. 

Phil'o-e.  The  burial-place  of 
Osiris  [294]. 

Phin'e  us.  The  betrothed  of 
Andromeda  [120-121],  whom  his 
rival  Perseus  turned  into  stone 
with  the  help  of  the  Gorgon's 
head.  Phineus  was  also  the 
name  of  the  sage  at  Thrace  who 
advised  the  Argonauts  on  how 
to  pass  the  Symplegades  [130- 
131],  and  of  one  of  the  victims 
of  the  Harpies,  whose  food  they 
were  ordered  by  Jupiter  to 
snatch  away  [259]. 

Phleg'e-  thon.  A  fiery  river  in 
Hades  [269]. 

P hoc  is.  An  ancient  Greek  state, 
between  Boeotia  and  Locris. 


938 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Orestes  was  sent  there  by  hit 
elder  sister  Electra  [234-235]. 

Phoe'bus  (from  Greek  phoibos, 
"bright1 ') .  An  epithet  of  Apollo, 
particularly  in  his  quality  as  the 
sun  god.  See  APOLLO.  The  name 
often  stands  for  the  sun  personi- 
fied. [6,  22,  34,  38,  39-41,  08,  71, 
92,  220] 

Phoe  ni'cia  [91,  233,  295,  301] 

Phoe  •  ni'ci  •  ans.  A  seafaring  race 
of  ancient  times  [94,  296,  358], 

Phoe'nix.  A  messenger  to  Achil- 
les [217];  also,  a  miraculous  bird, 
dying  in  fire  by  its  own  act  and 
springing  up  alive  from  its  own 
ashes  [310-312]. 

Phor'bas.  A  companion  of  Ae- 
neas. Neptune  assumed  his 
form  when  he  lured  Palinurus, 
the  helmsman,  from  his  post 
[264]. 

Phryg'i-a  [48-49,  112,  160] 

Phryx'us.  The  brother  of  Hello. 
Both  children  escaped  the  cru- 
elty of  their  father  on  a  golden 
ram  [130]. 

Pillars  of  Hercules.  Two  moun- 
tains facing  each  other;  one, 
Calpe  (now  the  Rock  of  Gibral- 
tar), on  the  southwest  corner  of 
Spain  in  Kurope,  the  other, 
Abyla,  on  the  northern  coast  of 
Africa  [145]. 

Pin'a-bel.  A  perfidous  knight, 
enemy  of  the  house  of  Clermont, 
who,  serving  as  guide  to  Brada- 
marite  in  her  search  for  Rogero, 
tried  to  kill  her  [713-714]. 

Pin'dar  (522?-?443  B.C.).  Great- 
est lyric  poet  of  ancient  Greece. 
Especially  known  for  his  odes 
[273]. 

Pin'dus.  A  mountain  in  Greece 
[43]. 

Pi-re'ne.  A  celebrated  fountain 
in  Corinth  [125]. 

Pi-rith'o-us.  King  of  the  Lapi- 
thae  in  Thessaly,  and  friend  of 
Theseus.  He  was  the  husband 
of  Hippodamia,  at  whose  wed- 


ding feast  the  Centaurs  offered 
violence  to  the  bride,  thus  caus- 
ing a  great  battle  [127,  138,  153, 
158,  166]. 

Pleasure.  Daughter  of  Cupid  and 
Psyche  [89]. 

Ple'ia-des.  Seven  of  Diana's 
nymphs  who  were  changed  into 
stars  [206,  208]. 

Plex-ip'pus.  The  brother  of 
Althea  [139]. 

Pli'ny  (23-79  A.D.).  Calus  Pli- 
nius  Secundus,  known  as 
Pliny  the  Elder.  Famous  Ro- 
man naturalist  of  whose  works 
only  the  37  books  of  his  Natu- 
rals histona  have  been,  pre- 
served [313,  315,  317]. 

Plu'to.  Identical  with  Hades  and 
Dis.  The  ruler  of  the  infernal 
regions,  son  of  Saturn,  brother 
of  Jupiter  and  Neptune,  and 
husband  of  Proserpine  [5,  8-9, 
52-56,  58,  88,  127,  135,  147,  153, 
180,  186,  265,  267]. 

Plu'tus.  In  Greek  mythology, 
the  son  of  lasion  and  Demeter. 
He  was  associated  with  Irene, 
the  goddess  of  peace.  Jupiter 
blinded  him  to  make  sure  that 
he  would  bestow  his  gifts  indis- 
criminately on  good  men  and 
bad  [9]. 

Po.  A  river  in  northern  Italy 
1271]. 

poets  of  mythology  [306-310]. 

Poi'tiers.    Sec  Touus. 

Po-li'tes.  The  youngest  son  of 
Priam  of  Troy.  He  was  killed 
by  Pyrrhus,  one  of  the  men  who 
entered  the  city  in  the  wooden 
horse  [232]. 

Pol'lux.  See  CASTOK  AND  POLLUX. 

Pol-ydec'tes.  King  of  Seriphus, 
who  gave  shelter  to  Danae  and 
her  infant  son  Perseus  after  her 
father  Acrisius  had  set  them 
both  adrift  at  sea  [116,  202]. 

Pol  -y  do' re.  A  murdered  kins- 
man of  Aeneas,  whose  blood 
nourished  a  bush  grown  from 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


939 


the  arrows  that  murdered  him 
[258]. 

Po  •  ly'i  •  dus.  The  soothsayer  who 
advised  Bellerophon  to  procure 
the  horse  Pegasus  for  his  conflict 
with  the  Chimaera  [125]. 
Po  •  lym'ni  •  a     or     Po  •  ly  •  hym'- 
ni-a.    One  of  the  nine  Muses, 
the    patroness    of    the    sublime 
hymn    and    of    the    faculty    of 
learning    and   remembering    [8]. 
Po'Iyni'ces.    See  KTEOCLKH. 
Pol-y  -phe'mus.    One  of  the  Cy- 
clops, a  giant  with  only  one  eye 
in  the  middle  of  his  forehead, 
who  lived  in  Sicily     He  was  in 
love    with    Galatea    [173]    and 
crushed  his  successful  rival  Ans 
with  a  rock  [209-211]     He  uus 
blinded  by  Ulysses  whom  he  had 
taken  prisoner  with  twelve  mem- 
bers of  his  crew  [237-2.18,  260]. 
Po-lyx'e-na.    One  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  King  Priam  of  Troy  and 
his  wife  Hecuba.  She  was  wooed 
by  Achilles,  who,  while  negotiat- 
ing the  marriage  in  the  temple 
of  Apollo,  was  fatally  wounded 
by  her  brother  Pans  [228].  Later 
Polyxena  was  sacrificed  to  Achil- 
les to  appease  his  shade  [282]. 
Po'mo'na.     In    Roman   mythol- 
ogy, the  goddess  of  fruit  trees 
[10,  11,  2G]     She  was  one  of  the 
wood  nymph*  and  accepted  the 
love    of    her   suitor    Vertumnus 
after  he  had   told  her  the  sad 
story   of    Iphis    and   Anaxarotc 
[70-79]. 

Por'rex,  see  FERKEX  AND  POIIUEX. 

Por-tu'nus.     The   Roman   name 

for  Palaernon,  the  son  of  Atha- 

mas  and  Ino,  who  was  made  into 

a  sea-god  [174]. 

Po-sei'don.  The  Greek  god  of 
the  sea  [5];  son  of  Cronus  and 
Rhea,  brother  of  Zeus  and  Pluto, 
husband  of  Amphitrite.  In  Ro- 
man mythology,  he  became  as- 
similated to  Neptune.  See 
NEPTUNE. 


Pres'ter  John.  A  rumored  priest 
or  presbyter,  a  Christian  pontiff 
in  Upper  Asia,  believed  in  but 
never  found  [327-328]. 
Pri'am.  In  Greek  legend,  king  of 
Troy  when  that  city  was  sacked 
by  the  Greeks,  husband  of 
Hec'uba  [224],  and  father  of  fifty 
sons  and  many  daughters,  among 
whom  were  Hector,  Helen  us, 
Paris,  Deiphobus,  Agenor  [223], 
Polyxena  [228],  Troilus,  Cassan- 
dra and  Polydorus.  \S  hen  He<v 
tor  was  slain,  the  old  King  went 
to  the  tent  of  Achilles  and  made 
a  successful  plea  for  the  body  of 
his  dead  son  [225-226].  After  the 
gates  of  Troy  were  thrown  open 
by  the  Greeks  concealed  in  the 
\\ooden  horse,  Pyrrhus  [232], the 
son  of  Achilles,  slew  the  aged 
Priam.  [207,  213,  223-226,  228, 
232] 
Pri'wen.  The  name  of  King 

Arthur's  shield  [400]. 
Pro'cris.      Beloved    but    jealous 
wife  of  Cephalus  who  slew  her 
accidentally  while  hunting  [26- 
28]. 

Pro-crus'tes.  A  robber  of  Attica, 
who  seized  travelers  and  bound 
them  on  his  iron  bed,  stretching 
the  short  ones  and  cutting  short 
the  tall.  Thus  he  was  served 
himself  by  Theseus  [151]. 
Proe'tus.  Son-in-law  of  king 
lobates  of  Lycia.  Incited  by 
jealousy  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
lobatos  to  kill  the  bearer, 
Bellerophon  [125]. 
Pro-me'theus.  Literally,  "fore- 
thought." One  of  the  Titans, 
son  of  lapetus  and  Clymene. 
Jupiter  entrusted  him  with  the 
task  of  making  men  out  of  mud 
and  water.  Out  of  pity  for  their 
state,  he  gave  them  fire,  stealing 
it  from  heaven,  and  was  pun- 
ished by  being  chained  to  Mount 
Caucasus,  where  an  eagle  preyed 
on  his  liver.  He  was  finally  re^ 


940 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


leased  by  Hercules  [12-13, 16-18, 
173]. 

Pros'er'pine  (Greek  Per-seph'- 
o-ne).  One  of  the  greater  god- 
desses; daughter  of  Ceres  and 
wife  of  Pluto  [8J,  who  carried 
her  off  to  his  realm  against  the 
will  of  her  mother  and,  by  inter- 
vention of  Jupiter,  had  to  agree 
to  a  compromise  by  which  she 
was  to  pass  half  the  time  (winter) 
with  her  husband  and  the  other 
half  (summer)  with  her  mother 
[52-57].  At  times  she  was  identi- 
fied with  Hecate  [134ri].  While 
queen  of  the  infernal  regions, 
Theseus  tried  to  carry  her  off 
[147].  When  Venus  sent  Psyche 
to  her  to  fetch  some  of  her 
beauty  in  a  littlo  box  [87-89],  it 
developed  to  he  a  bit  of  Stygian 
sleep.  [8,  11,  52-57,  88,  134n, 
147,  18G,  265,  2(>6] 

Pro-te-ai-la'us.  The  first  of  the 
Greeks  to  fall  in  the  Trojan  War. 
Slam  by  Hector,  he  was  allowed 
by  the  gods  to  return  for  three 
hours  to  talk  to  his  widow 
Laodamia  [214]. 

Pro'teus.  Neptune's  herdsman, 
an  old  man  and  a  prophet,  fa- 
mous for  his  power  of  assuming 
different  shapes  at  will  [60,  173, 
190-191]. 

Pru'dence,  see  METIS. 

Pry'deri.    Son  of  Pwyll  [597-607]. 

Psy'che.  A  beautiful  maiden, 
personification  of  the  human 
soul,  sought  by  Cupid  (Love), 
to  whom  she  responded.  She 
lost  him  through  curiosity, 
wanting  to  see  him  though  he 
only  came  to  her  by  night,  but 
was  finally,  through  his  prayers, 
made  immortal,  and  restored  to 
him.  Psyche  is  a  symbol  of  im- 
mortality [80-91]. 

Pu-ra'nas.  Literally,  "old  sto- 
ries." A  class  of  Sanskrit  works, 
serving  as  the  Scriptures  of 
Hinduism,  and  containing  the 


history  and  legends  of  the  gods 
[322]. 

Pwyll.  A  hero  of  the  Welsh  Mabi- 
nogion,  Prince  of  Dyfed  [583- 
588]. 

Pyg-ma'li*on.  A  sculptor,  in 
love  with  a  statue  he  had  made, 
which  was  brought  to  life  by 
Venus  [62-63] ;  also,  a  brother  of 
the  Queen  Dido  [262]. 

Pyg'mies.  The  name  used  by 
Homer  for  a  race  of  dwarfs  said 
to  dwell  somewhere  in  Ethiopia; 
from  Gr.  pugme,  the  length  of 
the  arm  from  elbow  to  knuckles. 
Every  spring  the  cranes  made 
war  on  them,  and  devoured  them. 
They  used  an  axe  to  cut  down 
corn-stalks,  when  Hercules  went 
to  the  country  they  climbed  up 
his  goblet  by  ladders  to  drink 
from  it  [128]. 

Pyl'a-des.  Nephew  of  Agamem- 
non, cousin  and  faithful  friend 
of  Orestes  whose  sister  Electra 
he  married  afterwards  [234]. 

Pyr'a*mu8.  Lover  of  Thisbe,  his 
nextdoor  neighbor.  Their  par- 
ents opposing,  they  talked 
through  cracks  in  the  house- 
wall,  and  agreed  to  meet  in  the 
near-by  woods?.  There  Pyramus, 
finding  a  bloody  veil  and  think- 
ing Thisbe  slain,  killed  himself, 
and  she,  seeing  his  body,  killed 
herself.  (Burlesqued  in  Shakes- 
peare's Midsummer  Night's 
Dream)  [23-26]. 

Pyr'rha.  The  wife  of  Deucalion, 
who  survived  with  him  on 
Mount  Parnassus  after  the 
deluge  sent  by  Zeus  [16-17]. 

Pyr'rhus  or  Ne  •  op  •  tol'e  •  mus. 
A  son  of  Achilles.  At  the  siege 
of  Troy  he  was  one  of  the  band 
of  warriors  in  the  wooden  horse. 
He  slew  Priam  and  his  youngest 
son  Polites  [2321.  He  married 
Hector's  wife  Andromache  and 
later  Hermione,  the  daughter  of 
Menelaus  and  Helen.  He  was 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


941 


worshiped  at  the  shrine  of 
Delphi  as  a  hero. 

Py  •  thag'o  •  ras.  Greek  philoso- 
pher (640  B.C.),  who  thought 
numbers  to  be  the  essence  and 
principle  of  all  things,  and 
taught  transmigration  of  souls 
of  the  dead  into  new  life  as  hu- 
man or  animal  beings  [288]. 

Pyth'i-a.  The  priestess  of  Apollo 
at  his  oracle  in  Delphi.  The 
Pythia  officiated  and  uttered  the 
words  of  the  oracle  [297], 

Pyth'i-an  games.  One  of  the 
four  great  national  festivals  cele- 
brated every  four  years  at 
Delphi  in  honor  of  Apollo  [1551. 
An  earlier  name  of  Delphi  was 
Pytho.  The  games  were  insti- 
tuted by  Apollo  in  commemora- 
tion of  his  slaying  of  the  serpent 
Python  [19]. 

Pyth'i-an  oracle.  The  oracle  at 
Pytho,  or,  as  it  was  called  later 
on,  at  Delphi  [84]. 

Pyth'on.  A  monstrous  serpent 
which  arose  from  the  mud  left 
by  the  deluge  of  Deucalion.  It 
lurked  in  the  caves  of  Mount 
Parnassus  and  was  slain  by 
Apollo  [19]. 


Qui-ri'nus.  From  Latin  quiris, 
"a  lance."  A  Roman  divinity  of 
warfare,  said  to  be  identical  with 
Romulus  [10]  and  assimilated  to 
Mars. 


Rab'i-can.  A  famous  horse  in  the 
legends  of  Charlemagne.  His 
first  owner  was  Argalia;  later  he 
came  into  the  possession  of  Ri- 
naldo.  Rabican  fed  on  air  alone 
and  was  unsurpassed  for  speed 
[684-685,  730,  739-741,  766]. 


Rag'na-rok'.  The  twilight  of  the 
gods,  known  in  German  as  Gbt- 
terddmmerung.  It  will  result  in 
the  destruction  of  the  universe. 
Loki  and  his  offspring,  Hel, 
Fenrir,  and  the  Midgard  ser- 
pent, will  break  their  bonds  and 
kill,  and  be  killed  by,  the  gods 
on  the  battlefield  of  Vigrid. 
Ragnarok  will  be  followed  by 
the  regeneration  of  all  things.  A 
new  earth  will  arise  and  sons  of 
Odin  and  Thor  together  with 
Baldur  and  Hodur  will  people  it 
[348-349]. 

Raj'puts.  One  of  the  minor 
Hindu  castes  [324]. 

Re'gan.  The  second  daughter  of 
King  Lear  [383-384]. 

Re-gil'lus.  A  lake  in  Latium, 
noted  for  the  battle  fought  near 
by  between  the  Romans  and  the 
Latins  [158]. 

Re'mus.  Twin  brother  of  Romu- 
lus [287].  See  ROMULUS. 

Rha-da-man'thus.  The  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Europa.  He  reigned 
in  the  Cyclades  with  such  im- 
partiality, that  at  death  ho  was 
made  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
infernal  regions  [269,  273]. 

Rhe'a.  A  female  Titan,  wife  of 
Cronus,  her  brother,  arid 
"Mother  of  the  Gods,"  i.e.,  of 
Jupiter,  Neptune,  Juno,  Ceres, 
etc.  She  became  identified  with 
the  Asiatic  Cybele  [4,  5,  8,  143, 
161,  179]. 

Rhi  an'non.  Wife  of  Pwyll  [584- 
588]. 

Rhine.  The  river  beneath  which 
the  hoard  of  the  Nibelungs  was 
buried  [353,  355,  357]. 

Rhine'daugh  •  ters.  In  Wagner's 
Ring  (not  in  actual  mythology), 
the  three  innocent  nymphs 
Flosshilda,  Woglinda,  and  Well- 
gunda,  set  to  guard  the  Nibe- 
lungen  Hoard  in  the  Rhine  [354- 
355]. 
Rhodes.  One  of  the  seven  cities 


942 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


claiming  to  be  Homer's  birth- 
place [307]. 

Rho'dope.  A  mountain  range  in 
Thrace,  which  lost  its  snow 
when  PhaSthon  drove  the  char- 
iot of  the  sun  [43]. 

Rhoe'cus.  A  youth,  beloved  by 
a  dryad,  who  brushed  away  a 
bee  sent  by  her  to  call  him  to 
her.  The  incensed  dryad  pun- 
ished him  with  blindness  [172J. 

Rhon'gom'yant.  King  Arthur's 
lance  [612].  See  also  BON. 

Rhun.  A  graceless  man  who  was 
ready  to  bring  disgrace  upon 
Elphin's  wife  but  was  thwarted 
in  his  attempt  by  Taliesm  who 
cunningly  substituted  a  servant 
for  the  lady  [629-630]. 

Ri'nal'do.  One  of  the  great  he- 
roes of  medieval  romance  (also 
called  Renault  of  Montauban, 
Regnault,  etc.),  a  paladin  of 
Charlemagne,  cousin  of  Orlando, 
and  one  of  the  four  sons  of  Ay- 
mon.  He  was  the  owner  of  the 
famous  hor.se  Bayard,  and  is 
always  painted  with  the  charac- 
teristics of  a  borderer — valiant, 
ingenious,  rapacious  and  un- 
scrupulous. [653,  656,  660-664, 
668,  670-673,  683-686,  692-693, 
695,  703,  705,  708-711,  745,  768- 
769,  780-781,  789-792,  814-825] 

Ring  des  Nibelungen,  Der. 
Gorman  title  of  Richard  Wag- 
ner's The  Ring  of  the  Nibeluny, 
a  mythological  music  drama  in 
four  parts  (1869-1876),  based 
loosely  on  northern  lore  and  in 
story  and  action  not  at  all  coin- 
cident with  the  Nibelungenlied 
[354-357]. 

Ro-bert  de  Beau-vais.  Norrnan 
poet  of  the  thirteenth  century 
[377]. 

Rob'in  Hood.  A  famous  outlaw 
in  English  legend,  about  the 
time  of  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion 
[643-646]. 

Rock'ing-ham  Forest  [399]. 


Rod'o-mont.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  a  Saracen  king  of 
Algiers,  called  the  "Mars  of 
Africa"  [693,  695-697,  761]. 

Ro-ge'ro  or  Ruggiero.  One  of 
the  principal  figures  m  Carlo- 
vingian  legend,  a  hero  of  the 
Saracen  army.  He  deserted  to 
Charlemagne,  was  baptized,  and 
married  Bradamant,  Charle- 
magne's niece.  [693-698,  702, 
721-731,  733,  740,  764-765,  779- 
781,  788-801] 

Ro'land,  see  OHL\NDO. 

romances  [374-378] . 

Roman  divinities  [9-11]. 

Ro-ma'nus.  In  legend,  the  son 
of  Histion,  grandson  of  Japhet, 
greatgrandson  of  Noah,  and  an- 
cestor of  the  Romans  [379]. 

Ro'mu  •  lus.  With  his  twin  broth- 
er, Remus,  the  legendary  found- 
er of  Rome.  I1  hey  were  sons 
of  Mars  and  Rhea  Silvia.  They 
were  suckled  by  a  she-wolf,  and 
eventually  set  about  founding  a 
city  but  quar rolled  over  the 
plans,  and  Remus  was  slain  by 
his  brother.  Romulus  was  taken 
to  the  heavens  by  his  father  in  a 
fiery  chariot,  and  was  wor- 
shipped by  the  Romans  under 
the  name  of  Quinnus  [10,  287]. 

Ron.  The  name  of  King  Arthur's 
broad  spear  [400].  See  also 

RHONOOMYANT. 

Ronces  values.  A  defile  in  the 
Pyrenees,  famous  for  the  dis- 
aster which  here  befell  the  rear 
of  Charlemagne's  army  m  778, 
on  the  return  march  from  Sara- 
gossa  [651-652,  801-803]. 

Round  Table.  The  table  made 
by  Merlin  at  Carducl  for  Uther 
Pendragon.  Uther  gave  it  to 
King  Leodegraunce,  of  Came- 
liard,  who  gave  it  to  King 
Arthur  when  the  latter  married 
Guinevere,  his  daughter.  It  was 
circular  to  prevent  any  jealousy 
on  the  score  of  precedency;  it 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


943 


seated  150  knights,  and  a  place 
was  left  in  it  for  the  San  Graal. 
[396-397,  410,  467] 

ru'nic  characters  or  runes.  Al- 
phabetic signs  used  by  the  old 
Teutons  [350].  They  were  in- 
vented by  Odin  [330]. 

rural  deities  [166-168]. 

Ru  •  tu'li  •  ana.  An  ancient  people 
in  Italy,  subdued  at  an  early 
period  by  the  Romans  [276,  279, 
281-282]. 

Ry'ence.    King  in  Ireland  [401], 


Sa'bra.  A  maiden  for  whom  the 
Severn  River  was  named,  daugh- 
ter of  Locrme  and  Estnldis.  She 
was  thrown  into  the  river  by 
Ivocrme's  wife  and  transformed 
into  a  river-nymph,  poetically 
named  Sabrma  [174,  381]. 

Sa-brin'a.  Roman  name  of  tho 
modern  Severn  [382]. 

Sac'ri-pant.  In  Boiardo'a  and 
Ariosto's  Orlando  poems,  a  king 
of  Circassia,  in  love  with  An- 
gelica, vanquished  by  Hmaldo 
[674-676,  706-710]. 

Saf'fire,  Sir.  One  of  the  knights 
of  Arthur's  Round  Table  [510] 

sa'gas.  Norse  tales  of  heroism, 
composed  bv  the  skalds  [351- 
357]. 

Sa-  git  •  ta'ri-  us.  A  southern  con- 
stellation, partly  in  the  Milky 
Way,  representing  an  archer 
(Lat.  safjMarius,  "archer")  who 
is  identified  as  the  Centaur  Chi- 
ron, placed  after  his  death 
among  the  stars  by  Jupiter  [128]. 
Also  known  by  the  English 
name  Archer  [40]. 

Sag'ra-mour  le  De'si-rus.  In 
Arthurian  romance,  a  knight  of 
the  Round  Table  [432]. 

Saint  John.  In  the  legends  of 
Charlemagne,  Saint  John  acted 
as  Astolpho's  guide  [772-777]. 


Saint  Michael's  Mount.  Pre- 
cipitous pointed  rock-hill  on  the 
coast  of  Brittany,  opposite 
Cornwall  [410]. 

Sak  ya-sin'ha  (Sansk.,  "the 
lion").  Epithet  applied  to 
Buddha  [325]. 

sa-la  man'der.  A  sort  of  lizard, 
fabled  to  live  in  fire,  which, 
however,  it  quenched  by  the 
chill  of  its  body  [316-317]. 

Sara-mis.  An  island  of  ancient 
Greece  [79].  One  of  the  seven 
cities  contending  for  the  honor 
of  having  been  Homer's  birth- 
place [307]. 

Sal  mo'ncus.  A  legendary  king 
of  Ehs,  who  wished  to  receive 
divine  honor  from  his  subjects. 
To  imitate  Jove's  thunder  he 
used  to  drive  his  chariot  over  a 
biazen  bridge,  for  which  impiety 
the  king  of  gods  and  men  hurled 
a  thunderbolt  at  him  [269]. 

Sal'o-mon.  King  of  Brittany,  at 
Charlemagne's  court  [656]. 

Sam'hin.  "Fire  of  peace."  One 
of  the  two  great  festivals  ob- 
seived  by  the  druids,  the  other 
being  Beltane,  "fire  of  God." 
Samhin  was  held  on  Halloweve 
[359]. 

Sa'mi-an  sage.  Pythagoras  [288]. 

Sa'mos.  Island  in  the  Aegean  Sea 
[157].  Pythagoras  is  at  times 
called  the  Sage  of  Samos  or  the 
Samian  Sage  [288]. 

Sam  •  o  •  thra'cian  gods.  A  group 
of  agricultural  divinities,  wor- 
shiped in  Samothrace  [158]. 

Sam'son.  Hebrew  hero,  thought 
by  some  to  be  the  original  of 
Hercules  [3011. 

San -great,  see  GRAIL. 

Sapph'o.  Greek  poetess  who 
leaped  into  the  sea  from  the 
promontory  of  Leucadia  in  dis- 
appointed love  for  Phaon  [38, 
203]. 

Sa'ra  cens.  A  term  first  applied 
to  one  Arab  tribe,  later  to  all 


944 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Arab  followers  of  Mohammed. 
Their  expansion  into  Europa 
was  stopped  by  Charles  Mart  el 
in  732  through  the  battle  of 
Tours  and  Poitiers  [648]. 

Snr-pe'don.  Son  of  Jupiter  and 
Europa.  One  of  the  principal 
leaders  of  the  Trojans  [213].  He 
was  killed  by  Patroclus.  His 
body,  at  the  command  of  his 
father,  was  rescued  by  Apollo 
and  taken  to  his  native  Lycia 
[220]. 

Sa'turn.  A  Roman  deity,  identi- 
fied with  the  Greek  Cronus 
(time).  He  devoured  all  his  chil- 
dren except  Jupiter  (air),  Nep- 
tune (water),  and  Pluto  (the 
grave) .  The  reign  of  Saturn  was 
celebrated  by  the  poets  as  a 
"Golden  Age"  [4-5,  8-10,  276, 
280-281,  301]. 

Sat-ur-na'li  a.  The  Roman  fes- 
tival of  Saturn,  celebrated  the 
17th,  18th  and  19th  of  Decem- 
ber. During  its  continuance  no 
public  business  could  be  trans- 
acted, the  law  courts  were  closed, 
the  schools  kept  holiday,  no  war 
could  be  commenced  and  no 
malefactor  punished  [9]. 

Sa  •  tur'ni  •  a.  An  ancient  name  of 
Italy  [281]. 

Sa'tyrs.  A  race  of  immortal  goat- 
men  who  dwelt  in  the  wood- 
lands. The  most  famous  satyr 
was  Silenus  [9-10,  76]. 

scalds.  The  poets  and  historiog- 
raphers of  the  Teutons,  corre- 
sponding to  the  Celtic  bards 
[350]. 

Scal'i  •  ger,  Julius  Caesar.  Origi- 
nally Delia  Scala  (1484-1558). 
Italian  humanist,  philosopher 
and  practicing  physician. 
Among  his  numerous  works  are 
commentaries  on  Aristotle,  Hip- 
pocrates, Theophrastes,  and 
others  [313]. 

Scan  •  di  •  na'vi  •  a»  mythology  of, 


giving  account  of  Northern  gods, 
heroes,  etc.  [328-351]. 

Sche'ri-a.  A  mythical  island,  the 
home  of  the  Phaeacians  [247], 
visited  by  Ulysses.  It  was  iden- 
tified by  the  ancients  with 
Corcyra,  the  modern  Corfu. 

Schrim'nir.  The  boar,  cooked 
nightly  for  the  heroes  of  Val- 
halla, becoming  whole  every 
morning  [331]. 

Sci'o.  One  of  the  island  cities 
claiming  to  be  Homer's  birth- 
place [307]. 

Sco'pas.  A  king  of  Thessaly  who 
was  buried  under  the  ruins  of 
his  collapsing  palace  after  he 
had  chided  the  poet  Simonides 
for  having  praised  Castor  and 
Pollux  more  than  him  [202-203]. 

Scor'pion  or  Scorpio.  A  constel- 
lation, the  eighth  sign  of  the 
zodiac  [41,  43]. 

Scriptural  theory  of  the  origin 
of  mythology  [301J. 

Scyl'la.  A  sea-nymph  beloved  by 
Glaucus,  but  changed  by  the 
jealous  Circe  to  a  monster  and 
finally  to  a  dangerous  lock  on 
the  Sicilian  coast,  facing  the 
whirlpool  Charybdis.  Many 
mariners  were  wrecked  between 
the  two  [59-61,  243-245,  261]. 
Also,  the  daughter  of  King 
Nisus  of  Megara,  who  loved 
Minos,  besieging  her  father's 
city;  he,  however,  disliked  her 
disloyalty  and  drowned  her 
[98-101].  Also,  a  fair  virgin  of 
Sicily  [209-210],  friend  to  the 
sea-nymph  Galatea.  [59-61,  98- 
101,  209-210,  243-245,  261] 

Scy'ros.  The  realm  of  King  Lyco- 
medes  who  slew  Theseus  [154]. 

Scyth'i*a.  A  name  vaguely  ap- 
plied by  the  Greeks  to  the  whole 
north  and  northeast  of  Europe 
[31,  43,  129,  170]. 

sea  nymphs  [120,  209].  See 
NEREIDS. 

Sem'e-le.    The  daughter  of  Cad- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


945 


mus  and  Harmonia.  By  Jupiter 
she  was  the  mother  of  Dionysus, 
and  was  slain  by  lightning  when 
he  granted  her  request  to  appear 
before  her  as  the  God  of  Thun- 
der [8,  94,  160]. 

Se-mir'a-mis.  A  legendary  queen 
of  Assyria.  She  survived  her 
husband  Ninus,  built  the  city  of 
Babylon  and  its  hanging  gar- 
dens, resigned  the  crown  to  her 
son  Ninyas  and  flew  to  heaven 
as  a  dove.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  the  fish -goddess  Derceto  and 
a  Syrian  youth.  Abandoned  by 
her  mother,  she  was  nursed  by 
doves  [23J. 

Sen'a-pus.  A  king  of  Abyssinia; 
in  the  legends  of  Charlemagne, 
a  victim  of  the  Harpies,  deliv- 
ered by  Astolpho  [770-771]. 

Se-ra'pis.  An  Egyptian  deity, 
combining  the  attributes  of  Apis 
and  Osiris  [293].  The  temples  of 
Serapis  wore  called  Serapea. 
The  most  famous  Serapeum,  at 
Memphis,  was  the  burial  place 
of  the  sacred  bull  Apis  [295]. 

aerfs[371]. 

Se-ri'phus.  An  island  in  tho 
Aegean  Sea,  one  of  the  Cyclades 
[110,  202]. 

Ser'pens  or  Ser'pent.  A  north- 
ern constellation,  which  lies 
coiled  around  the  north  pole 
[42]. 

Ses'tos.  The  home  of  Hero,  be- 
loved of  Leander  [105]. 

Set,  see  TYPHON. 

Seven  against  Thebes,  Expedi- 
tion of  the.  An  expedition 
against  the  city  of  Thebes  by 
the  heroes  Adrastus  (the  only 
survivor),  Polynices,  Tydeus, 
Amphiaraus,  Hippomedon,  Ca- 
paneus,  and  Parthenopaeus 
[182}. 

Sev'ern.  The  second  longest  river 
in  England.  Its  name  corre- 
sponds to  the  Latin  Sabrina. 
According  to  legend,  the  name 


is  derived  from  Sabra,  who,  to- 
gether with  her  mother  Estrildis, 
was  thrown  into  the  river  by 
Queen  Guendolen  [382]. 

Se'vi'nus.  In  the  story  of  Huon 
do  Bordeaux,  a  Duke  of  Guienne 
[825]. 

Sha-lott',  the  Lady  of  [441  ff.] 

Sha  •  tri'ya.  One  of  the  four  great 
castes  of  Hinduism  [324].  It 
bears  the  name  of  the  warrior 
issued  from  Brahma's  right  arm 
[323]. 

Sher'as'min.  In  the  story  of 
Huon  do  Bordeaux,  the  brother 
of  Guire,  Mayor  of  Bordeaux 
[846]. 

sib'yl'  Any  of  a  number  of  proph- 
etesses whose  special  function  it 
was  to  intercede  with  the  gods 
on  behalf  of  human  supplicants. 
The  most  famous  is  the  Cu- 
maean  Sibyl  whom  Aeneas  con- 
sulted before  descending  to 
Avornus  [265-275]. 

Si-chae'us.  In  the  Aeneid,  the 
name  of  Queen  Dido's  husband 
[262]. 

Si'ci-ly.  Island  of  tho  Mediterra- 
nean; colonized  by  the  Greeks 
beginning  in  the  8th  century 
B.C.  [55-58,  61,  195,  209,  260- 
261,  264]. 

Siege  Perilous.  The  chair  of 
purity  at  King  Arthur's  Round 
Table,  fatal  to  any  but  him  who 
was  destined  to  achieve  the 
quest  of  the  Sangreal.  It  was 
safely  occupied  by  Sir  Galahad 
[488]. 

Sieg'fried.  Young  King  of  the 
Netherlands,  husband  of  Kriem- 
hild;  she  boasted  to  Brunhild 
that  Siegfried  had  aided  Gun- 
ther  to  beat  her  in  athletic  con- 
tests, thus  winning  her  as  wife, 
and  Brunhild,  in  anger,  em- 
ployed Hagen  to  murder  Sieg- 
fried. As  hero  of  Wagner's 
"Valkyrie,"  he  wins  the  Nibe- 
lungen  treasure-ring,  loves  and 


946 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


deserts  Brunhild,  and  is  slain  by 
Hagen  [352-355,  356-357]. 

Sieg  •  lin'de.  Wife  of  Handing, 
mother  by  Siegmund  of  Sieg- 
fried [355-357]. 

Sieg'mund.  Father  by  Sieglinde 
of  Siegfried  [355]. 

Sig'tryg,  Prince.  The  betrothed 
of  King  Alef's  daughter,  aided 
by  Hereward  [642]. 

Si-gun'a.  Wife  of  Loki.  She 
nurses  him  in  his  cavern.  When 
she  carries  off  the  poison  which 
the  serpents  gorge,  a  portion 
drops  on  the  god,  and  his  writh- 
ings  cause  earthquakes  [347]. 

Si*le'nus.  In  classic  myth,  son  of 
Pan,  chief  of  the  sileni  or  older 
satyrs,  the  foster-father  of  Bac- 
chus the  wine-god.  He  is  de- 
scribed as  a  jovial  old  toper, 
with  bald  head,  pug  nose,  and 
pimply  face  [46]. 

Sil'uTes.  At  the  time  of  the  Ro- 
man andAnglo-Saxon  conquests, 
a  people  living  in  what  is  now 
South  Wales  [375,  394]. 

Sil-va'nus  or  Syl-va'nus.  In 
Roman  mythology,  the  divine 
protector  of  woods,  fields,  cattle, 
etc.  His  characteristics  were 
very  much  the  same  as  those  of 
the  Greek  Pan  [76,  166]. 

Silver  Age.  The  second  ago  of 
man  before  the  flood,  between 
the  Golden  Age  arid  the  Brazen 
Age  [14]. 

Sil'vi-a.  The  daughter  of  Tyr- 
rheus,  king  Turnus'  herdsman, 
whose  favorite  stag  was  killed 
by  the  Trojan  lulus,  an  incident 
leading  up  to  the  outbreak  of 
war  between  Aeneas  arid  his 
hosts  in  Italy  [277]. 
Sil'vi-us.  The  grandson  of  Ae- 
neas, who  was  accidentally 
killed  in  the  chase  by  his  son 
Brutus  [379]. 

Si-mon'i-des  (ca.  660  B.C.).  A 
Greek  poet  of  whose  work  frag- 


ments have  been  preserved  [201- 
203]. 

Si'non.  The  Greek  who  induced 
the  Trojans  to  receive  the 
wooden  horse  [230-231]. 

Si'rens.  Sea-nymphs,  whose  sing- 
ing charmed  mariners  to  leap 
into  the  sea,  passing  their  island, 
Ulysses  stopped  the  ears  of  his 
sailors  with  wax,  and  had  him- 
self lashed  to  the  mast  so  that 
he  could  hear,  but  not  yield  to, 
their  music  [242]. 

Sir'i-us.  Orion's  dog  which  was 
changed  into  the  Dog-star  [206]. 

Sis'yphus.  A  legendary  king  of 
Corinth,  condemned  in  Tartarus 
to  perpetually  roll  up  hill  a  big 
rock  which,  when  the  top  was 
reached,  rolled  down  again  [186, 
270]. 

Si'va.  Literally,  "the  blessed 
one."  The  third  person  of  the 
Hindu  trinity,  or  Tnmurti,  rep- 
resenting the  destructive  prin- 
ciple in  life  and  also,  as  in  Hindu 
philosophy  restoration  is  in- 
volved in  destruction,  the  repro- 
ductive or  renovating  power 
[320,  322]. 

skalds,  see  SCALDS. 

Skid-blad'nir.  The  miraculous 
ship  which  the  elves  gave  to 
Frey  and  which  had  room  for  all 
the  gods  although  it  could  be 
folded  together  and  put  into  a 
side  pocket  [348]. 

Skir'nir.  Frey's  messenger,  who 
won  the  god's  magic  sword  by 
getting  him  Gerda  for  his  wife 
[336]. 

Skrym'ir.  The  name  of  the  giant 
in  whose  shape  Utgard-Loki 
conducted  Thor,  Thialfi,  and 
Loki  to  Jotunheim  [337-339]. 
Skuld.  In  Norse  mythology,  one 
of  the  three  Norns  or  Fates.  She 
represents  the  future,  her  name 
being  related  to  the  word  shall 
[3301. 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


947 


Sleep.  Personified  as  twin  brother 
of  Death.  See  SOMNUS. 

Sleip'nir.  In  Scandinavian  myth- 
ology, Odin's  grey  horse,  which 
had  eight  legs,  and  could  carry 
his  master  over  sea  as  well  as 
land  [345]. 

So-bri'no.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando 
Ftirioso,  one  of  the  most  valiant 
of  the  Saracen  army,  called  "The 
Sage."  He  counselled  Agramant 
to  entrust  the  fate  of  the  war  to 
a  single  combat,  but  when  Agra- 
mant broke  the  compact,  So- 
brino  was  greatly  displeased, 
and  soon  afterwards  received  the 
rite  of  Christian  baptism  [693, 
7N 1-78/5,  789]. 

Som'nus.  In  classic  myth,  the 
god  of  Sleep,  the  son  of  Night 
(Nox)  arid  the  brother  of  Death 
(Mors)  [71-72,  220,  204]. 

Soph'o-cles  (495?-406  B.C.). 
Tragic  poet  of  Greece.  His 
works  include  Oedipus  Rex, 
Antigone,  Elrctra,  etc.  [235]. 

South  wind,  see  NOTUS. 

Spar'ta.  Capital  of  Lacedaemon, 
residence  of  King  Menelaus  and 
his  wife  Helen  [158,  212,  233]. 

Sphinx.  A  monster,  waylaying 
the  road  to  Thebes,  and  pro- 
pounding riddles  to  all  passers 
on  pain  of  death  for  wrong  guess- 
ing. She  killed  herself  in  rage 
when  Oedipus  guessed  correctly 
[122-124]. 

Spring.  Personified  as  attendant 
of  the  sun  god  [39]. 

Star  of  Arcady.  The  polestar. 
So  called  because  Callisto,  who 
was  placed  among  the  stars  as 
Arctos  the  Bear,  had  been  a 
huntress  in  Arcadia  or  Arcady 
[33]. 

statues  of  the  gods  [303-306]. 

Stone'henge.  A  prehistoric  mon- 
ument on  Salisbury  Plain,  Wilt- 
shire, England,  originally  con- 
sisting of  two  concentric  circles 
of  upright  stones,  enclosing  two 


rows  of  smaller  stones  and  a 
central  block  of  blue  marble 
(18  ft.  by  4  ft.),  known  as  the 
Altar  Stone.  It  was  fabled  to 
be  the  sepulcher  of  Uther  Pen- 
dragon's  brother  [397]. 

Stro'phius.  The  father  of  Py- 
lades  [234]. 

Styg'i-an  realm.    See  HADES. 

Styg'i-an  sleep.  It  was  sent 
from  Hades  to  Venus  shut  in  a 
beauty-box.  Psyche,  who  was 
to  deliver  the  box,  curiously 
opened  it,  and  was  plunged  into 
unconsciousness  [89]. 

Styx.  The  river  of  Hate  (Greek 
stugcm,  to  hate) — that  flowed 
nine  times  round  the  infernal 
regions.  The  five  rivers  of  hell 
are  the  Styx,  Acheron,  Cocytus, 
Phlegethon  and  Lethe  [160,  228]. 

Su'dras.  The  Hindu  caste  of 
laborers  [323-324]. 

Summer.  One  of  the  attendants 
of  the  t>un  god  Phoebus  Apollo 
[39]. 

Sur'tur.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  leader  of  the  giants  against 
the  gods  on  the  day  of  their 
destruction  [349]. 

Sur'ya.  In  Hindu  mythology,  the 
sun  worshiped  as  the  deity  of 
light  and  warmth  and  corre- 
sponding to  the  Greek  Helios 
[321]. 

Su'tri.  A  town  in  Italy,  north- 
west of  Rome,  where,  in  the  leg- 
ends of  Charlemagne,  the  Em- 
peror's daughter  Bertha  gave 
birth  to  Orlando  (Roland)  [656]. 

Sva  dil-fa'ri.  The  horse  that 
helped  the  mountain  giant  build 
a  residence  for  the  gods  of 
Asgard  [334-335]. 

swan.  Jupiter  approached  Leda 
in  the  disguise  of  a  swan  [109, 
158].  She  gave  birth  to  eggs 
from  which  sprang  her  children 
Helen,  Clytemnestra  and  Castor 
and  Pollux. 

Syb'a-ris.     An   ancient    city   in 


948 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


Italy,  near  the  Gulf  of  Taren- 
tum.  The  Sybarites  were  pro- 
verbially wealthy  and  luxury- 
loving.  Their  city  was  conquered 
and  destroyed  by  an  army  of 
Crotoniats  under  the  athlete 
Milo  [292]. 

Syl'va'nus,  see  SILVANUS. 

Sym  •  pleg'a  •  des.  Literally,  strik- 
ing together.  In  the  story  of  the 
Argonauts,  two  movable  rocks 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Bosporus 
into  the  Black  Sea.  Phinetis  ad- 
vised the  Argonauts  on  how  to 
pass  the  Symplegades  [131]. 

Sy'rinx.  An  Arcadian  nymph. 
Pursued  by  Pan  she  took  refuge 
in  the  river  Ladon,  and  prayed 
to  be  changed  into  a  reed.  Of 
the  reed  Pan  made  his  pipes  [30]. 


Tac'i-tus.  Cornelius  Tacitus 
(55?-?117  A.D.).  Roman  histo- 
rian and  legal  orator,  author  of 
Germania  and  other  works  [311]. 

Tacn'a  •  rus.  The  Greek  entrance 
to  the  lower  regions  [186]. 

Tal'ie  •  sin.  Ill-authenticated 

Welsh  bard  of  the  sixth  century. 
The  Book  of  Taliesin  t  a  collec- 
tion of  poems  assigned  by  legend 
to  him,  is  probably  not  older 
than  the  thirteenth  century 
[531-532].  His  name  signifies 
"radiant  brow"  and  was  given 
to  him  by  Elphin,  the  man  who 
found  him  in  a  leather  bag  in  his 
weir  [626-627].  When  Elphin 
boasted  at  one  time  about  the 
virtue  of  his  wife,  Taliesin 
helped  him  prove  the  truth  of 
what  he  had  said  [627-633]. 

Ta'na  •  is.  An  ancient  name  of  the 
Russian  Don  river.  It  dried  up 
when  PhaSton  drove  his  chariot 
of  the  sun  [44]. 

Tan'ta-lus.  Son  of  Jupiter  and 
Pluto  (daughter  of  Himantes) ; 


father  of  Pelops  and  Niobe.  As 
a  king  of  Mount  Sipylus  in 
Lydia,  he  revealed  the  secrets 
of  the  gods  and  was  punished  in 
Tartarus  by  having  to  stand 
under  a  loaded  fruit  tree  up  to 
his  chin  in  water,  the  fruit  and 
water  retreating  whenever  he 
tried  to  satisfy  his  hunger  or 
thirst  [112,  186,  270]. 

Tar'chon.  Etruscan  chief,  host 
of  Aeneas  [282]. 

Ta-ren'tum.  The  modern  Ta- 
ranto  in  Italy  [197]. 

Tar-pe'ian  Rock.  Originally  the 
Capitolino  Hill  in  Rome.  Later 
that  part  of  its  cliffs  over  which 
condemned  criminals  were  hurled 
[280], 

Tar'quins.  A  ruling  family  in 
early  Roman  legend  [275]. 

Tar' tar -us.  The  infernal  regions 
of  classical  mythology;  used  as 
equivalent  to  Hades  by  later 
writers,  but  by  Homer  placed  as 
far  beneath  Hades  as  Hades  is 
beneath  the  earth  [44,  53,  73, 
186-187,  269,  293].  It  was  here 
that  Zeus  confined  the  Titans 
[5,  52]. 

Tau'ris.  Grecian  city,  site  of  a 
temple  of  Diana  [214,  234]. 

Tau'rus.  A  mountain  range  in 
southern  Asia  Minor  [43].  A 
zodiacal  constellation  [40]. 

Teir'tu.  In  Celtic  mythology,  the 
owner  of  a  magic  harp  which 
plays  and  ceases  to  play  as  a 
man  desires  [618]. 

Tel'a*mon.  Son  of  Aeacus  [98] 
and  father  of  Ajax  [138].  With 
his  brother  Peleus,  Jason,  and 
Nestor  he  took  part  in  the  Caly- 
doriian  Hunt  [138-139]  and  the 
Argonautic  expedition.  [98,  138- 
139] 

Te  •  lem'a  •  chus.  The  only  son  of 
Ulysses  and  Penelope.  He  went 
to  Pylos  and  Sparta  in  search  for 
his  father  and  helped  him  on  his 
return  to  Ithaca  to  slay  Penel* 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


949 


ope's  suitors  [212,  233,  246,  254- 
257]. 

Tel'lus.  The  divine  personifica- 
tion of  the  earth,  by  whose  pow- 
ers plants  potent  for  enchant- 
ment are  produced  [134].  The 
Greeks  called  her  Gaea  or  Ge. 
Ten'e-dos.  An  island  in  the 

Aegean  Sea  [21]. 

Ter'mi  •  nus.  Roman  divinity 
presiding  over  boundaries  and 
frontiers  [10]. 

Terp  •  sich'o  •  re.  Literally,  one 
delighting  in  dance.  One  of  the 
nine  Muses,  the  especial  com- 
panion of  Melpomene  and  pa- 
troness of  choral  dance  and  dra- 
matic chorus  [8]. 
Ter'ra.  Goddess  of  the  earth 

1146]. 

Teth'ys.  A  sea  goddess,  wife  of 
Oceanus,  the  daughter  of  Heav- 
en and  Earth  and  mother  of  the 
river  gods  [32,  40,  59,  172,  174]. 
Teu'cer.  The  son  of  Telamon  and 
stepbrother  of  Ajax.  He  founded 
Salamis  in  Cyprus  and  became 
the  ancestor  of  Anaxarete,  the 
cruel  lady,  who  drove  her  lover 
Iphis  into  death  [78]. 
Teutonic  mythology  [351-352]. 
Tha-H'a.  Tho  Muse  of  comedy 
and  bucolic  poetry.  Thalia  is 
also  the  name  of  one  of  the  three 
Graces.  It  signifies  "blooming" 
[8]. 

Tham'y  •  ris.  Thracian  bard,  who 
challenged  the  Muses  to  compe- 
tition in  singing,  and,  defeated, 
was  bimded  [193]. 
Thaukt.  The  old  hag  who  alone 
refused  to  weep  for  Baldur  and 
thus  prevented  his  return  from 
Hel  which  could  be  accomplished 
only  by  the  unanimous  demand 
of  all  beings  and  things.  She 
was  suspected  of  being  Loki  in 
diguise  [346]. 

Thebes.  The  chief  city  of  Boeotia, 
Greece,  founded  by  Cadmus,  the 


Tyrian  [11,  92,  94,  111-112,  123- 
124,  161,  182-183,  192,  296]. 

The'mia.  A  Titaness,  daughter  of 
Uranus,  the  personification  and 
goddess  of  justice  and  law  [4,  7, 
9,  15n,  297]. 

The'ron.  One  of  the  dogs  pursu- 
ing Actaeon  whom  Diana  had 
changed  into  a  stag  (35J. 

Thefsi'tes.  A  deformed,  scurril- 
ous officer  in  the  Greek  army  at 
the  siege  of  Troy.  He  was  al- 
ways railing  at  the  chiefs. 
Achilles  felled  him  with  his  fist 
and  killed  him  [228]. 

Thes'ce-lus.  An  enemy  of  Per- 
seus, who  was  turned  to  stone 
by  the  sight  of  the  Gorgon's 
head  [121]. 

The-se'um.  A  temple  at  Athens, 
decorated  with  sculptures  from 
the  myths  of  Hercules  and 
Theseus  [154]. 

The'se  us.  The  chief  hero  of 
Attica;  son  of  Aegeus  and 
Aethra;  a  great  hero  of  many 
adventures  [130,  136,  138-139, 
147,  150-157,  158,  165,  177]. 

Thes'sa-Iy.  A  district  forming 
the  northeastern  division  of  an- 
cient Greece  [3,  69, 129-130, 132, 
170,  202]. 

Thes'ti-us.  Father  of  Althaea 
[140]. 

The'tis.  The  chief  of  the  Nereids. 
By  Peleus  she  was  the  mother  of 
Achilles  [173-174,  211-212,  216, 

"  221-222,  225,  228]. 

Thi-al'fi.  Thor's  servant,  who 
accompanied  Loki  and  his  mas- 
ter to  Utgard,  the  abode  of  the 
giant  Utgard-Loki  [337].  There 
he  lost  a  foot  race  to  Hugi,  one 
of  Utgard-Loki's  men  [340],  who 
actually  was  Thought  in  dis- 
guise [343]. 

This'be.    Babylonian  maiden  be- 
loved by  Pyramus  [23-26]. 
Thor.   In  Norse  mythology,  after 
Odin,  the  second  principal  god. 
He  is  the  son  of  Odin  and  Earth, 


950 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


the  god  of  thunder,  and  owns  as 
his  most  precious  possessions  a 
hammer,  a  belt  of  strength,  and 
a  pair  of  iron  gloves  [331-332]. 
The  giant  who  built  the  resi- 
dence for  the  gods  was  paid  by 
Thor  with  his  mallet  [334-335]. 
When  this  hammer  had  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  the  giant 
Thrym,  Thor  recovered  it  by 
dressing  himself  in  Freya's 
clothes  pretending  to  be  the  fair 
goddess  whom  the  giant  wanted 
to  be  his  bride  in  exchange  for 
the  hammer  [335-33G].  During 
a  viwt  to  Jotunheim  Thor  al- 
most lifted  the  Midgard  serpent 
off  the  earth;  he  almost  con- 
quered Kill,  old  age;  and  almost 
emptied  a  drinking  horn  which 
was  connected  with  the  ocean 
[337-343].  At  Ragnarok  Thor 
will  kill  the  Midgard  serpent  but 
die  from  its  venom.  [331-332 
334-343,  349,  352] 

Thrace.  A  region  in  southeastern 
Europe,  north  of  Greece,  but  of 
indefinite  and  varying  bounda- 
ries [31,  130,  258]. 

Thri-na'ki  a.  The  island  of  Hy- 
perion, where  his  daughters 
Lampetia  and  Phaethusa  tended 
his  cattle.  When  Ulysses'  men 
killed  some  of  the  cattle  for 
food,  their  ship  was  wrecked  by 
lightning  [244]. 

Thrym.  The  giant  who  buried 
Thor's  mallet  under  Jotunheim, 
insisting  that  he  would  return  it 
if  Freya  would  consent  to  be  his 
bride.  Thor  presented  himself 
disguised  as  Freya  and  slew 
Thrym  with  the  mallet  as  soon 
as  it  was  given  him  as  a  wedding 
gift  [335-336]. 

Thu-cyd'i'des.  A  celebrated 
Greek  historian  (471?-?401 
B.C.),  author  of  a  History  of  the 
Pfloponnesian  War  [98]. 

Tiber.  Italian  river  flowing 
through  Rome  [276,  299]. 


Tiber,  Father.    The  god  of  the 

river  Tiber  [279]. 

Ti'gris.  One  of  the  dogs  pursu- 
ing Actaeon  whom  Diana  had 
changed  into  a  stag  [35]. 

Tin-ta'del,  see  TIN-TA'CEL. 

Tin-ta'gel  Castle.  Residence  of 
King  Mark  of  Cornwall  [450]. 

Ti-re'si-as.  A  Theban  seer.  He 
had  seen  Minerva  bathing  and 
was  blinded  by  her.  Relenting, 
but  unable  to  withdraw  the  pun- 
ishment, she  compensated  him 
by  giving  him  the  gift  of  second 
sight  [183]  After  his  death 
Ulysses,  at  the  request  of  Circe, 
consulted  him  in  llatles. 

Ti-siph'o-ne.  One  of  the  Furies 
[0]  Aeneas  saw  her  in  the  in- 
fernal regions  apply  her  whip  of 
scorpions  to  offenders  whoso 
guilt  had  not  been  revealed  dur- 
ing their  life  on  earth  [1?G9]. 

Ti'tans.  A  race  of  primordial 
deities,  children  of  Heaven  a,  id 
Earth  [4],  finally  overcome  by 
the  thunderbolts  of  rebellious 
Jupiter  [5]  who  banished  them 
to  Tartarus  [52]  where  they  lie 
prostrate  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pit  [269].  According  to  the  old- 
est accounts  there  were  twelve 
Titans,  six  male  and  six  female: 
Oceanus,  Coeus,  Crius,  Hype- 
rion, lapetus,  Cronus;  Theia, 
Rhea,  Themis,  Mnemosyne, 
Phoebe,  Tethys.  [4,  5,  13,  18, 
52,  172,  269] 

Ti-tho'nus.  Trojan  prince,  son 
of  king  Laomedon  arid  father  of 
Memnon  by  the  goddess  Aurora 
[207]. 

Tit'y'u«»  One  of  the  race  of 
giants  who  warred  against  the 
gods.  He  was  the  father  of 
Europa.  Having  assaulted  a 
goddess,  he  was  killed  and  sent 
to  Tartarus  where  his  body 
covers  nine  acres  [122,  269]. 
Tmo'lus.  A  mountain  range  in 
Asia  Minor  [43].  The  mountain 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


951 


god  who  acted  as  umpire  when 
Pan  challenged  Apollo  [47]. 
Tortoise.  The  second  incarnation 
or  avatar  of  Vishnu,  which  is 
called  the  Kurma  [321], 
tournaments  [371-372]. 
Tours.  In  the  battle  of  Tours  or 
Poitiers,  which  is  one  of  the  de- 
cisive battles  of  the  world, 
Charles  M artel  defeated  in  732 
the  Sarucen  invader  Abd-er- 
Rahman,  thus  rescuing  North- 
ern Europe  from  Mohammedan 
conquest  [649-050]. 
Tox'e-us.  The  uncle  of  Meleager, 
by  whom  he  was  slain  when  he 
snatched  from  Atalanta  the 
limiting  trophy  which  had  been 
awarded  to  her  by  Meleager  at 
the  successful  conclusion  of  the 
Caledonian  Boar  Hunt  [139]. 
triad.  A  form  of  gnomic  litera- 
ture, cultivated  by  medieval 
Welsh  bards  and  consisting  of 
sets  of  three  short  aphoiisms 
strung  together  in  one  sentence 
[532-533]. 

Tri-mur'ti.  Sanskrit,  having 
three  forms.  In  Hindu  mythol- 
ogy, the  threefold  impersonation 
of  the  Supreme  Spirit:  Brahma, 
the  creator;  Vishnu,  the  pre- 
server; Siva,  tho  destroyer  [320]. 
Trip'tol'e-mus.  Son  of  Celeus 
and  Metamra,  whose  kindness 
to  Ceres,  bewailing  the  loss  of 
her  daughter  Proserpine,  was 
rewarded  by  the  goddess  through 
a  gift  to  Triptolemus  who  be- 
came the  teacher  of  men  in  the 
use  of  the  plough.  He  founded 
her  worship  in  Eleusis  [57]. 
Tria'tram.  One  of  Arthur's 
knights,  husband  of  Isoude  of 
the  White  Hands,  and  lover  of 
Isoude  tho  Fair  [449-466,  468- 
478]. 

Tri'ton.  The  son  of  Neptune  and 
Amphitnte,  represented  as  a  fish 
with  a  human  head.  It  is  this 
sea  god  that  makes  the  roaring 


of  the  ocean  by  blowing  through 
his  shell  [16,  60,  173-174,  262]. 

Troe'zen.  Greek  city  of  Argolis 
[150]. 

Tro-ja-no'va.  The  capital  built 
by  Brut,  the  great-grandson  of 
Aeneas.  Now  it  is  called  Lon- 
don, England  [381 J. 

Tro'jans.  Inhabitants  of  Troy, 
whose  adventures  under  the 
leadership  of  Aeneas,  after  the 
fall  of  their  city,  form  the  sub- 
ject matter  of  Virgil's  Acneid 
[216,  259-264,  269,  277]. 

Tro'jan  War.  The  legendary  war 
sung  by  Homer  in  the  Iliad  as 
having  been  waged  for  ten  years 
by  the  confederated  Greeks 
against  the  men  of  Troy  and 
their  allies,  in  consequence  of 
Paris,  son  of  Priam,  the  Trojan 
king,  having  carried  off  Helen, 
wife  of  Menelaus,  king  of  Lace- 
demon  (or  of  Sparta).  The  last 
year  of  the  siege  is  the  subject 
of  the  Iliad;  the  burning  of  Troy 
and  the  flight  of  Aeneas  is  told 
by  Virgil  in  his  Acneid.  [138, 
174,  1S4,  211-227] 

Tro  •  phon'i  •  us.  With  his  brother 
Agamedes,  architect  of  the  tem- 
ple of  Apollo  at  Delphi  and  of 
the  treasury  of  king  Hyrieus. 
He  killed  his  brother,  who  had 
stolen  part  of  the  king's  treas- 
ure, for  fear  of  being  implicated 
in  the  crime.  He  was  swallowed 
up  by  the  earth  and  had  an 
oracle  in  a  cave  near  Lebadeia  in 
Boeotia  [297-298]. 

trou'ba-dours.  Minstrels  of  the 
south  of  France  in  the  llth, 
12th,  and  13th  centuries;  so 
called  from  the  Provencal  verb 
trobar,  to  find  or  invent.  They 
wrote  in  the  langue  d'oc,  prin- 
cipally on  love  and  chivalry 
[374]. 
trou-veurs'.  Poets  and  minstrels 

of  Northern  France  [375]. 
Troy.  City  in  Asia  Minor,  held  to 


952 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


bo  identical  with  the  Greek 
Ilium.  In  Greek  legend,  the 
capital  of  King  Priam  and  ob- 
ject of  the  Trojan  War  [206-207, 
212-214,  218,  224,  227-232,  236]. 

Tur'nus.  Chief  of  the  Rutulians 
in  Italy,  the  unsuccessful  rival 
of  Aeneas  for  Lavinia  [276-279, 
281-282,  286-287]. 

Tur'pin,  Archbishop.  A  famous 
figure  of  medieval  legend,  one  of 
the  paladins  of  Charlemagne's 
court.  In  historical  reality  he 
was  a  contemporary  of  Charle- 
magne, Archbishop  of  Rheima 
from  753  to  794  [652-653,  656, 
806-813]. 

Tur'quine,  Sir.  A  great  knight, 
foe  of  King  Arthur,  who  was 
slain  by  Sir  Launcelot  [428]. 

Twins,  see  GEMINI. 

Ty'phon.  A  fire-breathing  mon- 
ster [52],  the  father  of  the 
Sphinx,  the  Chimaera,  anfl 
other  monsters.  He  is  often 
identified  with  Typhoeus,  a  son 
of  Tartarus  and  Gaea,  who  be- 
got the  unfavorable  winds  or, 
according  to  other  stories,  is 
himself  one  of  them  [261].  As  a 
hundred-headed  giant  he  warred 
against  the  gods  [52]  and  was 
banished  by  Jupiter  to  Tartarus 
under  Mount  Aetna.  Typhon  is 
also  the  name  used  by  the 
Greeks  for  the  Egyptian  Sot,  the 
god  of  evil,  who  killed  his 
brother  (or  father)  Osiris  [293- 
294]. 

Tyr.  In  Norse  mythology,  the  god 
of  battle,  one-handed  since  the 
day  when  he  put  his  hand  in 
Fenris's  mouth  as  a  pledge 
which  the  other  gods  did  not 
redeem  [333]. 

Tyre.  Next  to  Sidon,  the  most 
important  city  of  Phoenicia. 
Cadmus,  the  founder  of  Thebes 
was  a  Tyrian  [92],  and  so  was 
Queen  Dido  of  the  Tyrian  col- 
ony of  Carthage  [262]. 


Tyr'rhe  •  us.  A  herdsman  of  King 
Turnus  in  Italy.  The  slaying  of 
his  daughter's  stag  arouGed  the 
war  upon  Aeneas  and  his  com- 
panions [277]. 


U 

U'bcr'to.  The  son  of  Galafron 
[665]. 

U'lys'ses.  The  Roman  name  of 
the  Greek  Odysseus,  hero  of 
Homer's  Odyssey,  and  a  promi- 
nent character  in  the  Iliad  [60- 
61,  76,  184,  212-213,  217,  219, 
228-230,  232-233,  236,  257,  261]. 

u'ni-corn  (Latin  unum  cornu,  one 
horn).  A  mythical  animal,  rep- 
resented as  having  the  legs  of  a 
buck,  the  tail  of  a  lion,  the  head 
and  body  of  a  horse,  and  a  single 
horn  in  the  middle  of  its  fore- 
head. The  oldest  author  that 
describes  it  is  Ctesias  (400  B.C.) 
[315]. 

U-ra'ni-a.  The  Muse  of  astron- 
omy and  celestial  forces  [8,  126]. 

U'ra-nus.  A  personification  of 
Heaven.  The  son  of  Gaea  or 
Earth  and  by  her  the  father  of 
the  Titans  [4]. 

Ur'dur,  see  URTH. 

Urth.  One  of  the  three  Norns 
(Fates)  in  Norse  mythology.  In 
the  earliest  conception  Urth  was 
the  only  Norn  and  her  name  was 
often  identified  with  Death  or 
Hel.  When  two  additional 
Norns  were  added  [Verthandi, 
Skuld],  Urth  came  to  represent 
the  past  [330]. 

Usk.  Celtic  for  "water."  A  river 
in  South  Wales  and  Monmouth- 
shire, England.  On  it  is  situated 
Caerleon,  the  traditional  seat  of 
King  Arthur's  court  [406,  534, 
553]. 

Ut'gard.  In  Norse  mythology, 
the  abode  of  the  giant  Utgard- 
Loki;  scene  of  Thor's  unsuccess- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


953 


ful  match  with  old  age  and  the 
Midgard  serpent  [337-338,  343] 

Ut'gard-Lo'ki.  In  Norse  myth- 
ology, the  chief  of  the  giants. 
Disguised  as  Skrymir  he  con- 
ducted Thor,  Thialfi,  and  Loki 
to  Jotunheim  [337-339].  There 
fire,  disguised  as  Logi,  ate  faster 
than  Loki;  thought,  disguised 
as  Hugi,  ran  faster  than  Thialfi; 
old  age,  disguised  as  Elli,  was 
stronger  than  Thor;  etc.  [339- 
342].  When  Utgard-Loki  had 
told  Thor  about  his  tricks,  he 
escaped  the  god's  wrath  by  van- 
ishing [342-343]. 

U'ther.  A  legendary  king,  or  pen- 
dragon,  of  the  Britons.  By  an 
adulterous  amour  with  Igerna 
(wife  of  Gorlois,  Duke  of  Corn- 
wall) he  became  the  father  of 
Arthur,  who  succeeded  him  [389- 
390,  394,  396-398]. 

U-waine'.  One  of  the  knights  of 
Arthur's  court  [432-434]. 


Va-is'syas.  Hindu  caste  of  agri- 
culturists and  traders  [323]. 

Val-halla.  Literally,  the  hall  of 
the  slain.  One  of  the  mansions 
of  Asgard  [330],  built  (in  Wag- 
ner'1* Ring)  for  Odin  (or  Wotan) 
by  the  giants  who  were  paid,  in 
place  of  the  goddess  Freya  at 
first  agreed  upon,  with  the  treas- 
ure of  the  Nibelungs  [355].  In 
Valhalla  Odin  feasts  with  heroes 
fallen  bravely  in  battle  on  mead 
and  boar's  meat  [331].  It  is  a 
hall  with  540  gates  from  which 
the  warriors  go  out  each  morn- 
ing to  return  at  night  for  an- 
other banquet  with  the  Valky- 
ries as  servitors.  [330-331,  344, 
348,  354-356] 

Val-kyrie.  Armed  and  mounted 
warlike  virgins,  daughters  of  the 
Norse  gods,  Odin's  messengers, 


who  select  slain  heroes  for  Val- 
halla and  serve  them  at  their 
feasts  [331,  347,  354,  355]. 

Ve.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 
brother  of  Odin  and  Vili.  The 
three  made  the  world  out  of  the 
dead  body  of  the  giant  Ymir. 
When  the  first  human  couple 
was  created,  Ve  contributed 
senses,  expressive  features,  and 
speech  [329-330]. 

Ve'das.  Literally,  "knowledge." 
The  four  sacred  books  of  the 
Brahmins,  comprising  (1)  the 
Rig  or  Risk  Veda\  (2)  Yajur 
Veda;  (3)  the  Sama  Veda;  and 
(4)  the  Atharva  Veda.  The  first 
consists  of  prayers  and  hymns  in 
verse,  the  second  of  prayers  in 
prose,  the  third  of  prayers  for 
chanting,  and  the  fourth  of  for- 
mulas for  consecration,  impreca- 
tion, expiation,  etc.  [320-321, 
324]. 

Ve-ne-do'ti-a.  The  realm  of 
King  Cadwallon,  whom  King 
Arthur  invited  to  court  at 
Caerleon  [407]. 

Ve'nus.  In  Roman  mythology, 
the  goddess  of  beauty  and  love. 
Originally  of  minor  importance, 
she  became  through  identifica- 
tion with  the  Greek  Aphrodite 
one  of  the  major  characters  in 
classical  myths.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Jupiter  and  Diono. 
According  to  another  view  (in- 
fluenced by  association  with  the 
Greek  term  aphros,  "foam")  she 
had  sprung  from  the  foam  of  the 
sea  at  Cyprus  [6].  Jupiter  gave 
her  in  wedlock  to  Vulcan.  She 
was  the  mother,  by  Vulcan,  of 
Eros  and  Anteros  [6-7] ;  by  Mars, 
of  Harmonia  [94];  by  Auchises, 
of  Aeneas  [264-265];  etc.  She 
wore  a  magic  girdle  which  en- 
abled its  wearer  to  arouse  love 
in  others  [6,  218].  She  plays  an 
important  part  in  many  legends 
and  stories:  she  gave  beauty  as 


954 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


a  gift  to  Pandora,  the  first 
woman  [13];  she  fell  in  love  with 
Adonis  and  after  his  death 
changed  his  blood  into  the  ane- 
mone [65-67];  she  first  objected 
and  finally  consented  to  her  son 
Cupid's  (Eros')  love  for  Psyche 
[80-891;  she  had  Atalanta  and 
Hippomenes  changed  into  lions 
[66,  142];  she  consoled  Ariadne 
and  gave  her  Bacchus  as  her 
husband  [165];  she  competed 
against  Juno  and  Minerva  for 
the  apple  of  discord  and  was 
given  the  prize  by  Paris  [211- 
212J;  she  destined  Helen,  the 
wife  of  Menelaus,  for  Paris  and 
caused  thus  the  Trojan  war 
[212J;  she  sided  with  the  Trojans 
against  the  Greeks  and  enlisted 
the  help  of  her  admirer  Mars 
[216];  etc.,  etc.  [6,  7,  11,  13,  53, 
65-67,  76,  78,  80-82,  86-89,  94, 
123,  142,  165,209,  211-212,216, 
218,  232,  264-265] 

Venus  do*  Medici.  A  statue  in 
Parian  marble  of  Venus  holding 
both  hands  before  her  body. 
Found  in  Hadrian's  villa  at 
Tivoli  and  brought  to  Florence 
by  Cosmo  de'  Medici  IV  about 
1680.  It  is  in  the  Uffizi  Gallery. 
The  signature  of  Cleomenes  (ca. 
200  B.C.)  is  considered  a  for- 
gery. The  statue  is  clearly  a 
Greco-Roman  work  [305]. 

Ver-dan'di,  see  VEHTHANDI. 

Ver'gil.  Publius  Vergilius  Maro 
70-19  B.C.).  Famous  Roman 
epic  and  idyllic  poet.  Author  of 
the  Aeneid,  which  relates  the 
adventurer  of  Aeneas  after  he 
left  Troy  [212,  266,  273,  275, 
307-308J. 

Ver'than  di.  In  Norse  mythol- 
ogy, one  of  the  three  Norns  or 
Fates.  She  represents  the  pres- 
ent, her  name  being  related  to 
German  werden,  "to  grow,  be- 
come" [330]. 

Ver-tum'nua.   Literally,  he  who 


changes.  In  Roman  mythology, 
a  deity  of  gardens  and  orchards 
and  of  spring  and  the  seasons  in 
general.  He  won  Pomona's  love 
by  telling  her  the  sad  story  of 
Iphis  and'Anaxarete  [76-79}. 

Ves'ta.  In  Roman  mythology, 
one  of  the  chief  divinities,  corre- 
sponding to  the  Greek  Hestia. 
She  was  the  virgin  goddess  of 
the  hearth  and  presided  over  the 
central  altar  of  family,  city, 
tribe,  and  race.  The  vestals 
were  her  priestesses  [10]. 

ves'tals.  Six  stainless  virgins,  who 
watched  as  priestesses  over  the 
sacred  fire  in  the  temple  of 
Vesta.  The  fire  had  originally 
been  brought  to  Rome  by  Ae- 
neas. When  it  went  out,  it  was 
rekindled  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun  [10]. 

Ve-au'vi-us,  Mount.  A  famous 
volcano  near  Naples,  Italy  [2(56]. 

Vig'rid.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 
battlefield  where  at  Ragnarok 
Loki  and  his  kin  will  kill,  and  be 
killed  by,  the  gods  and  where  the 
world  will  be  devastated  [349]. 

Vi'li.  In  Norse  mythology,  one  of 
the  brothers  of  Odin.  With  Vef 
the  third  brother,  they  slew 
Ymir  and  formed  the  world  out 
of  his  body.  When  the  first  man 
and  the  first  woman  were  made, 
Vili  gave  them  reason  and  mo- 
tion [329]. 

villains  [371]. 

Vir'gil,  see  VERGIL. 

Vir'go.  Constellation  of  the  Vir- 
gin, representing  Astraea,  god- 
dess of  innocence  and  purity 
[15n]. 

Vith'nu.  The  Preserver;  the  sec- 
ond member  of  the  Hindu  trin- 
ity. He  has  had  nine  incarna- 
tions, or  Aoatara  and  there  is 
one — Kalki — still  to  come,  dur- 
ing which  Vishnu  will  at  the  end 
of  four  ages  destroy  sin,  the  sin- 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


955 


ful,  and  all  the  enemies  of  the 
world  [320-321,  325). 

Viv'i-ane.  A  lady  with  magical 
powers,  who  allured  the  sage 
Merlin  and  imprisoned  him  in 
an  enchanted  wood  [390-392, 
424,  460,  521]. 

Vol'scens.  Rutulian  troop  leader 
who  killed  Nisus  and  Euryalus 
[2841. 

V61'sun*ga  Sa'ga.  In  Old  Norse 
literature,  the  mythical  story  of 
the  Volsungs,  which  formed,  to- 
gether with  the  Nibelungenlied, 
the  main  source  of  Wagner's 
Ring  [354]. 

Vor'ti-gern.  Usurping  King  of 
Britain,  defeated  by  Pendragon 
[389-390,  397]. 

Vul'can.  A  son  of  Jupiter  and 
Juno,  husband  of  Venus,  god  of 
fire  and  the  working  of  metals, 
identified  with  the  Greek  He- 
phaestus, and  called  also  Mul- 
ciber,  i.e.,  the  softener.  His 
workshop  was  on  Mount  Etna, 
where  the  Cyclops  assisted  him 
in  forging  thunderbolts  for  Jove 
[4,  6,  10,  39,  41,  94,  123,  151, 
182,  205,  222,  287,  301]. 

Vya'sa.  Hindu  sage,  to  whom  is 
attributed  the  present  arrange- 
ment of  the  Vedas  [320]. 


W 

Wain.  Short  for  Charles'  or 
Charles's  Wain,  that  is  the 
wagon  of  Charlemagne.  The 
constellation  Dipper  or  Ursa 
Major.  Also  called  Bear  [3]. 

water  deities  [172]. 

Well-gun'da.  In  Wagner's  Ring 
(not  in  actual  mythology),  one 
of  the  three  Rhinedaughters 
guarding  the  Nibelungen  Hoard 
[354]. 

Welsh.  Language  and  literature 
[531].  Bards  [531-5321. 


Western  Ocean.  Location  of  the 
Isles  of  the  Blessed  [273]. 

winds  [176]. 

Winter.  Attendant  of  the  Sun 
[39]. 

Wo'den.  The  chief  god  in  the 
Norse  mythology,  Anglo-Saxon 
for  Odin  [330]. 

Wog'lin'da.  In  Wagner's  Ring 
(not  in  actual  mythology),  one 
of  the  three  Rhinedaughters 
guarding  the  Nibelungen  Hoard 
[354]. 

Wooden  Horse.  It  was  filled  with 
armed  men  and  left  outside  Troy 
as  a  pretended  offering  to  Mi- 
nerva when  the  Greeks  feigned 
to  sail  away.  It  was  accepted  by 
the  Trojans  and  brought  into 
their  city,  but  at  night  the  hid- 
den Greek  soldiers  destroyed  the 
town  [229-232]. 

wood  nymph.    A  translation  of 

DRYAD      and      HAMADRYAD      [76, 

167]. 

Wotan.  The  Old  High  German 
form  of  Odin,  chief  of  the  Scan- 
dinavian gods.  This  is  the  form 
used  in  the  operas  of  Wagner's 
Ring  [351-352,  354-356]. 


X-Y-Z 

Xan'thus.  A  river  in  Asia  Minor, 
on  which  was  situated  the  city  of 
Xanthus,  now  called  Giinuk.  It 
dried  up  when  Phaethon  drove 
the  chariot  of  the  sun  [44]. 

Ya'ma  (Sanskrit,  ?  a  twin) ,  Hindu 
god  of  the  infernal  regions  [321]. 
He  is  the  deification  of  the  first 
mortal  to  die  and  reach  the 
realm  beyond. 

Year.  Phoebus  Apollo,  the  sun 
god,  surrounded  by  Day,  Month, 
Year,  and  Hours  [39]. 

Ygg'dra-sill  or  Yg'dra  sil.  Lit- 
erally, the  horse  of  Yggr  or 
Odin.  In  Norse  mythology,  the 


956 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


"Tree  of  the  Universe,"  which 
sprang  from  the  body  of  Ymir. 
It  is  an  ash  tree  and  has  three 
roots.  One  extends  to  Niflheim 
with  the  well  Hvergelmir  where 
lies  the  dragon  Nithhogg  gnaw- 
ing away  its  substance.  The 
second  extends  to  Jotunnheim 
and  the  well  of  Mimir,  which  is 
the  source  of  all  wisdom.  The 
third  extends  to  Asgard.  By  it 
lies  the  well  Urtharbrunn  whose 
waters  the  Norns  use  to  preserve 
Yggdrasill  from  decay.  The 
squirrel  Ratatosk  runs  up  and 
down  the  trunk  carrying  strife. 
Four  harts  feed  on  Yggdrasill's 
foliage.  An  eagle  and  a  hawk 
are  sitting  in  its  branches  [330]. 

Y'mir.  In  Norse  mythology,  a 
primeval  giant,  the  Norse  equiv- 
alent of  Chaos,  who  was  killed 
by  Odin,  Vili,  and  Ve,  who  made 
of  his  body  the  world.  His  blood 
was  the  sea,  his  skull  the  heavens 
[329],  etc.  The  maggots  arising 
in  his  dead  body  became  the 
black  or  night  elves  [348].  Ygg- 
drasill, the  "Tree  of  the  Uni- 
verse," grew  out  of  Ymir,  and 
when  he  tries  to  shake  off  its 
weight,  the  earth  quakes  [330]. 
See  also  under  MIMIR. 

Yn'ywl,  Earl.  Host  of  Geraint, 
father  of  Enid  [568-564]. 

York.  Visited  by  King  Arthur 
[405], 

Y-se-ro'ne.  Niece  of  Arthur, 
mother  of  Caradoc  [418]. 

Y»'pa  da  d«n  Pen'kawr.  Fa- 
ther of  Olwen  [609,  612,  614, 
617-618,  625-626]. 

Za-ra-thua'tra,  see  ZOROASTER. 

Z«nd-A-ve«'ta.  Literally,  Avesta 
and  interpretation.  The  sacred 
writings  of  Zoroastrianism.  The 
major  parts  of  the  Avesta  now 
extant  are  (1)  the  Yasna,  a  col- 
lection of  hymns  and  liturgical 
fragments;  (2)  the  Vispered,  a 


liturgical  collection;  (3)  the  Ven- 
didad,  a  collection  of  laws  and 
rules;  (4)  the  Yashta,  mythical 
fragments  about  angels  and  va- 
rious lesser  deities  [318]. 

Z«ph'yru».  A  personification  of 
the  west  wind;  the  gentlest  of  all 
the  sylvan  deities.  Also  known 
as  Favonius.  He  fans  the  in- 
habitants of  Elysium  [273]  and 
is  the  lover  of  Flora  [176].  When 
Apollo  played  at  quoits  with 
Hyacinthus,  Zephyrus  was  jeal- 
ous and  drove  the  missile  Apollo 
had  pitched  so  that  it  killed 
Hyacinthus  [68].  He  bore  Psyche 
from  her  lonely  mountain  refuse 
to  the  flowery  dale  where  Cupid 
was  waiting  for  her  [82]  and  also 
brought  her  sisters  [83]  to  see 
her.  [68,  82-83,  85,  176,  273] 

Zer-bi'no.  In  Ariosto's  Orlando 
Furioso,  a  famous  knight,  son  of 
the  king  of  Scotland,  and  inti- 
mate friend  of  Orlando  [742, 
744,  749-751,  753,  759]. 

Ze'tes.  A  son  of  the  north  wind 
Boreas  and  the  nymph  Orithyia 
[176].  With  his  brother  Calais 
he  accompanied  the  Argonauts 
as  a  winged  warrior  [133]. 

Ze'thus.  Brother  of  Amphion, 
son  of  queen  Antiope  of  Thebes 
and  Jupiter.  With  Amphion  he 
killed  the  usurping  king  Lycus 
and  his  wife  Dirce  [192]. 

Zeus.  The  Grecian  Jupiter.  The 
word  means  the  "living  one" 
(Sanskrit,  Djaus,  heaven)  [4]. 
See  JUPITER. 

Zo  •  ro  •  as'ter  or  Za  •  ra  •  thus'tra. 
Founder  of  the  Perso-Iranian 
national  religion,  flourished  early 
in  the  first  millennium  B.C. 
Zoroastrianism  was  dominant  in 
Western  Asia  from  about  550 
B.C.  to  about  650  A.D.,  and  is 
still  held  by  many  thousands  in 
Persia  and  India.  It  is  funda- 
mentally a  dualist ic  system  in 
which  the  course  of  the  universe 


DICTIONARY  AND  INDEX 


957 


is  understood  as  &  relentless  war 
of  Qrmazd,  the  principle  of  light 
and  goodness,  against  Ahriman 
and  his  evil  spirits.  In  the  end 
Ormazd  will  prevail,  partly 


through  the  help  of  man  whom 
he  created  to  strengthen  his 
forces.  The  sacred  literature  of 
Zoroastrianism  is  the  Zend- 
Avesta  [318-320].